Fuck that noise.
“We could be beneficial to each other, Mr. Hunt.Da? Get in, we discuss.”
Again, he ignored the man and crossed over the street, to listen to the sound of the man laughing, “Ah, soon then, my friend. We have much to converse and help each other.”
Not fucking likely, man.
Not at all.
Because of the confrontation with Capone and then the crap with Grigori, he about took the door off when he stormed into his place and scared the color out of Poppy’s face.
It didn’t stop his mood from violently raging either when he banged doors and stomped around as he got ready for the day.
“What’s up your butt, moody biker?”
She was hovering behind him, bringing her good girl sweet smell with her, making him crazy, making him hard, making him want to climb on his bike and get the hell out of there.
He owned his place outright; she could live there rent free if she wanted to.
She didn’t need a protector. Certainly not a guy who only wanted to peel her out of her clothes and taste what was beneath.
He ached to find redemption in her tight little body.
Why then as soon as he put the thought into his head did a growl of refusal gurgle up his windpipe?
“Not moody,” he answered finally when she didn’t stop her hovering even when he moved around the kitchen filling the water jug in the fridge.
“You look pretty moody. Is it me? Have I outstayed my welcome? Should I pack my grocery bag and hit the bricks?”
Coming out of her well cultured mouth, those words made him grin against his better judgement and yeah, his bad mood lessened some.
“You’d be back within five minutes, it’s cold out.”
“Fine, I’ll stay until the spring, the summer at the latest.” He didn’t mistake her muttering a date under her breath that was twenty years from now.
It only put more fire in places that had no right to get fucking hot.
It didn’t help that she came up behind him and wrapped both of her arms around his waist and rested her face into his spine.
He about vibrated out of his skeleton with how good it felt.
* * *
“Why are you so angry, Tait?”
She felt his sigh through his back.
“Had another run in with Capone.”
Because he didn’t shove her away, she went right on holding him, loving how solidly he felt against her body. He was seriously ripped in all the places a man should be ripped. She’d seen his belly and chest bare, all those lovely bumps and valleys that headed into the waist of his sweatpants.
“And?” It was like pulling blood from a turnip to get words out of him that wasn’t a grunt. She asked while she nuzzled her nose into his back, smelling his clean masculine fragrance.
All her boyfriends, and there’d been a fair few, that included the fiancés, all used expensive colognes that made them smell like cheap hookers.
That was her whole problem. She never once spoke up about anything.
About the clothes her mom advised her to wear.