Page 23 of Unwrapped

“What? Payback’s a bitch. Eh?”

Her answer is an icy smack across my cheek.

“A ‘thank you’ would’ve been more appropriate.” But I’m not even mad. I adjust my pea coat because the wood I’m sporting could jackhammer an iceberg. Fuck this woman covered in fur and slush is making me so damn hard. I want to pin her wrists over her head. Bite the pulse hammering in the side of her throat while pumping my dick in and out of her overpriced pussy.

I groan, cupping myself as I load the chain back in the truck. She made me harder than Isabella ever did. Maybe there is something to this hate-sex-thing after all.

She backs away, as my fists clench and I stalk closer. She falls on her ass in the snow. I bend down, take her hand and yank her the fuck to me. Her full, pretty pink lips part as I let my coat fall open to cushion her body against mine. No doubt she can feel what I have going on even between her soggy coat. Her pretty eyes are scared as they bore into mine. “What are you even doing out here?”

“None of your business.”

“Look,” I speak slow and even, attempting to be nice. “There’s worse things in these woods besides me. Wolves. Rapists. Bad things… You got that fur baby?”

She jerks free from my hold. “I can handle myself.”

“Really?” My head nods over to her car. I slide her ruined coat off her and replace it with my warm one.

“I don’t want it.”

“Take it,” I demand.

“Fine,” she snaps.

“Where are you headed?”

“Springdale.”

I lower my eyes. Well shit. This Christmas just got interesting.

“Where are you going?” She finally asks.

“To hell.”

“Can hardly say I’m surprised!”

“How long are you going to be in Springdale for?”

“As long as it takes…”

“For what?”

“To find something, I’ve been looking for.”

“In Springdale?” I snort. “Good luck with that.”

I watch as she gets in her car and pulls out. I wait five minutes, knowing she’d be too busy staring into her mirror at my headlights if I pulled out right behind her to pay attention to the road. I let out my breath as I reach the town limits. The old wooden “Welcome to Springdale sign,” is covered in garland. I followed fur baby’s tire tracks the entire way. It’s a small town. No doubt, I’ll run into the hellion again. I slowly roll through the main street all the way to the back side of town.

I pull into the bar slash restaurant co-owned by my old friend Roger and the former Prez of Creed, Duke.

Heads turn as open the thick wooden door bringing snow and a blast of cold air with me.

A dozen men wearing leather cuts over thick plaid shirts turn their heads. A few gape. “Shut your mouth, before someone sticks a dick in it,” I grumble to the first man I pass. I nod at the few familiar faces hunched around the bar.

“Well look who the snowstorm dragged in,” Rog bellows and he comes from behind the bear and envelops me in a bear hug. My fist beats on his back. He pulls back.

“Don’t you fucking dare, “I warn. A he lifts his big bear paws close to my cheeks. I love him like an uncle, but I have a rep to maintain. Having Rog pat my cheeks like a baby would ruin any street cred I have left.

“I thought you were bullshitin’ me when you said you were coming home.”

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