Page 92 of Savage

He grins, and nods. “Yes, she did. It was awkward as fuck.”

I smile, because if there’s anything I know about Tank, it’s that he likes sex as hard and dirty as I do, so I know he’s not lying about it being awkward. Feeling marginally better, I let him take my hand and lead me to a quaint little chocolate shop. The smell hits me before we’ve even entered.

“Tank, what’s happening, man?” A hipster-looking guy with jet black curls and an olive complexion greets us.

“Louis,” Tank says gruffly, thrusting out his hand to shake. He’s not pissed or anything—this is just how he talks to everyone who doesn’t have a vagina. Tank and Louis talk for a bit about why he hasn’t dropped by recently and I watch on in interest. Mostly to hear what he says about what’s been keeping him busy, but also because aside from the brothers at the club, I’ve never seen Tank with friends. I didn’t know Tank had friends.

Louis looks around Tank’s huge frame and says, “Oh hey, shit. Sorry. I didn’t see you there. Can I help you?”

He glances back at Tank with his eyebrow raised and a smile so wide I’m afraid his face might split.What are we back in high school?Do men not realise we know when they’re signalling their mates that there’s a hot girl within a three-foot radius of their junk?

“She’s with me,” Tank says, and Louis pales.

“Shit. Sorry, man,” he says and extends his arm for me to shake. “I’m Louis, welcome. It’s so nice to meet a friend of Tank’s.”

“Ivy,” I say, shaking his hand, and then I add, with a mischievous grin, “Friend and fuck buddy.”

Louis laughs and turns to Tank. “Jesus fucking Christ, are you one lucky bastard?”

“Louis, could you quit hitting on the biker’s old lady?” a woman’s voice, young and yet equally stern, shouts from behind the counter, and a mop of wiry red curls pops up. She’s cute and freckle-faced, and her little button nose is covered in flour. She doesn’t look a day over eighteen.

“Hey Tank,” she says, brushing the flour from her face. She follows the trail down to her apron-covered chest and blows a bright orange curl out of her eyes. “We haven’t seen you in a while.”

“Been busy,” he replies.

“I can see that,” she says, and I’m beginning to feel like some kind of lab rat who jumped through their hoops and finally reached the cookie at the end of the maze with the way these two are studying me.

Tank is clearly aware of it too, because he shakes his head, throws an arm around my shoulder and leads us over to a table by the window. He pulls my seat out and waits. I just stare at him.

“What? I can’t be chivalrous?”

“You know what chivalry means?” I tease, but I sit down and allow him to push in my chair. Tank takes the seat opposite, and Louis arrives with menus before Tank can hit me with some witty comeback.

“So, the usual?” Louis asks.

“Yeah.” Tank intervenes by knocking Louis’ arm away when he tries to hand me a menu.

I glare at the obnoxious arse. “I don’t get to decide what I want?”

“Nope.” He smirks, and it’s quite possibly the millionth one I’ve seen today. “I know exactly what you want. You just need to trust me.”

“Okay then,” Louis says. “Coffee?”

“Yes,” I practically shout. “The strongest you have.”

Tank shakes his head. “Get her a latté.”

I swear if looks could kill, Tank would be burnt to a char right about now. No one takes my coffee from me and lives to tell about it.

“Your system doesn’t need any more stimulation.”

“It’s caffeine, Tank, not cocaine,” I argue. “I’m pretty sure I’ll be okay.”

He shrugs, and Louis glances nervously between us again. He looks as though he wants to flee. Tank has that effect on a lot of people. Then again, it could be the fact that I just admitted to being a junkie and at any second he’s expecting me to break out my stash and start snorting lines off of his fancy table. Louis says, “Okay, so latté it is then.”

“No, I want—”

“I’m sorry, sweetheart, but your man is too scary to say no to.” He backs away from the table, shouting, “But don’t you worry, it’ll be the best latté you’ve ever tasted. You just sit tight.”

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