Page 55 of No Romeo
My heart rate ticked up.
That idiot had actually tried to use Lola—the chick he had referred to as “my girl,” the one I beat the shit out of him over—as a witness.
No way he was that stupid, and whatever ulterior motive he had, it wasn’t going to fly with me. Mess with me all he wanted, try to screw with her…I settled back in the seat. “Might need two tanks, Wolf.”
Fifteen minutes later, some sick-ass rap blasted from Wolf’s speakers while I flicked the flint of a lighter. I was amped up, more than ready to set that cocksucker’s car on fire. He thought he had some balls to report me; I’d roast his nuts on an open thirty-thousand-dollar fire.
The speed of the truck slowed just before I noticed the massive plume of black smoke rising above the treetops.
When we rounded the curve of the highway, and the Barrington High parking lot came into view, Wolf let off the accelerator. “Holy shit.”
One of the cars in the parking lot was on fire. A piss-stain yellow one.
“Looks like someone beat you to it.” Wolf hummed the tune to “Lola” as a firetruck whizzed past, sirens blaring.
He was right.
The only person who would do some crap like that outside of me, him, Bellamy, or Zepp, was Lola. She had this Harley Quinn vibe about her, and the Joker side of my personality thrived on it.
If I hadn’t been in love with her since I was four, that incinerated Camaro sure as hell would have sent me hurtling my stupid ass off lover’s leap. I’d always had her back. She’d always had mine. And wasn’t that the entire point of being in love with someone? Trusting them. Knowing they were your ride-or-die…even if they screwed up.
Wolf continued down the highway toward Dayton’s city limits, and I spent that entire ride imagining Lola dousing a tank of gas on Ethan’s ugly sportscar, then tossing a match to it. All because that Barrington dickhead had tried to get me arrested. My dick couldn’t have been harder if I’d popped ten Viagra.
Wolf hadn’t come to a complete stop in my drive before I was opening the door and trying to climb out with a hard-on from hell.
He cocked a brow when I turned around. “You’re going in there to fuck her, aren’t you?”
“It’s the only real way to say thank you in the case of arson, Wolf.” Then I slammed the door and jogged toward the house.
He could call me a hypocritical fuck for ten weeks straight because the nut I was about to bust would be worth it.
As soon as I stepped inside, the clang of water running through the old pipes greeted me.
My attention went straight to the closed bathroom door. The image of her naked, arsonist body had me climbing the steps two at a time and snatching a condom from my bedroom.
Fuck boundaries and fuck her lines.She wanted lines. She damn well knew better than to set fire to Ethan-fuckface-Taylor’s car.
I shoved open the door just as a very naked Lola put one leg over the edge of the old, porcelain tub. I got an eyeful of tits and trimmed pussy before she yanked the plastic shower curtain in front of her. Like I hadn’t had my cock and face buried in it a few days ago…
“What the hell, Hendrix?”
I shut the bathroom door. “You set fire to his car?”
“Yeah, I fucking did.” Her jaw set. “Asshole.”
That was all I needed.
I pointed the condom packet at her. “Fuck your lines, Lola Stevens.” I was going to fuck the absolute shit out of her until she wouldn’t be able to sit down without remembering exactly why us beingjustfriends would never work out.
I got into the shower, fully clothed, then grabbed her jaw and shoved her back against the tile while hot water drenched my clothes. “You know what fire does to me.” I searched her eyes for the slightest bit of hesitation, and when I didn’t find it, I slammed my lips over hers. Hard. Her body went limp in my hold. “Oh, you know.” I kissed her deeper, nipping at her lip as I plastered myself against her. “But just friends, right?”
“Yes,” she breathed, her hands gripping my shoulders. “Friends…”
I slipped my hand between her legs, skimming a finger over her wet pussy. “That’s sure as hell not what this feels like.”
Her teeth skimmed my lips on a moan. “No, it doesn’t.” Then her hands slipped underneath my shirt, peeling the wet material over my head before she reached for my belt. “We should stop.”
“Yeah.” I sunk my fingers inside her pussy, then groaned because, damn, she was wet. “We should. Shouldn’t we?”
