Page 30 of Prince Charming

She was freaking crazily attracted to him.

Eye-stalking him, she let it build in her, as her eyes roamed over the stretch of his t-shirt across a muscled back. The dexterity of his fingers gripping his own cup, resting a hip to the counter.

He smiled and Marianna swallowed too hot coffee.

Attraction.

It had a damn nerve turning up now when she had no time for a man.

And not one like Tag.

A man who had the capabilities to smash her heart.

“Friends.” She mumbled and found him grinning.

She could be friends with this man. Needing a friend, desperately, in fact.

And nothing more.

TEN

“Is he really a monk if he’s not silent?” - Tag

Preacher was looking to get thumped.

“I can hear you, fucking clowns.” He complained, as the boys cackled like a bunch of gossiping bitches.

It was typical when they latched onto a piece of gossip.

No doubt one of them would be on the phone tonight, passing it along to Lawless.

“I meant you to. You gonna answer?” This from Grinder, Preacher’s second wife.

Having sparred with Rider, the pair bumped fists.

Tag couldn’t let loose completely, not with the prez saying hisI Do’ssoon. Zara would strip his skin from his bones if anything happened to Rider.

Still feeling tense, he needed a hard-all-consuming fuck until his body drained of energy, but he’d settle for strenuous exercise to tide him over.

Ever since he’d left Marianna’s apartment the other morning, he couldn’t get her off his mind. He hated making her cry but holding her all night—feeling how she climbed into his skin and calmed to a hiccupping whimper as sleep claimed her. He wasn’t sorry about that. He’d continued to stroke her back long after she fell asleep, touching her like a fucking creep.

She was driving him insane.

Sexually insane.

There was no way a woman so closed off knew how much she affected him. Everything she did was precise and methodical. He’d love to see her lose her shit laughing.

Now she knew his intentions.

Jumping down from the boxing ring in the club gym, he wiped off and grabbed a shirt to go running.

“Come on, brother. We’ve hardly seen you, and then Reaper catches you strolling out the little Russian’s apartment early the other morning.”

“Reaper’s a fucking gossip. You’re all gossips.” He half-grinned. “The ghost doesn’t say shit for three years, and now he’s running to you all to yap about my life.”

Like jackals, they started pestering him about Marianna. Passing him a bottle of water, Preacher’s paw landed on his shoulder. “Having an office romance, brother?”

“Don’t work in an office, funny boy.”

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