Page 34 of Lawless
Two men on motorcycles rode around in figure-eight patterns, revving up their engines and pumping their fists in the air. They drummed up the crowd, feeding their bloodlust with the roars of their machines.
Jandro was the first to step into the circle, peeling off his cut and tossing it to someone in the crowd. Forgetting myself, I stared thirstily as he swaggered back and forth in search of an opponent.
He was the shortest and stockiest of Reaper's men, but still a full head taller than me and built like a brick house. He flexed those thick arms and people cheered—mostly women. As he turned around, I spotted the SDMC skull tattooed on his ribs, along with a portrait of a woman on the other side. I didn't get a close look, but she had colorful face paint in the style of Day of the Dead skulls.
I was too busy staring at the muscles upon muscles of Jandro's back, his arms, and his chest, that I didn't notice him stopping right in front of me until he spoke.
"Marrriposa," he grinned, moving closer until he stood directly in front of me. "How about abesitofor good luck?"
Jesus. Why did he smell so good?
"No."
His hazel eyes widened for the full puppy-dog effect as he pointed to his cheekbone.
"Not even just a little one?"
I didn't want to open that door of intimate contact, not even a crack. Reaper's massage had already been too much. I'd been craving his hands on me all day, even though I was barely sore anymore. I hated the feeling of wanting anything from these men.
But I also knew Jandro wouldn't go away until he got something.
So I leaned in, reaching on my tiptoes, and brushed a soft kiss against his cheek.
His arm locked around my waist the moment my lips touched him, pinning me to his bare chest with the strength of an ox.
And goddamnit, he felt so warm and his skin was surprisingly soft.
Then I felt his lips on my neck, the exposed side from my leaning in to kiss him, and the gentle suction followed by a flick of his tongue.
It was over before I realized what had happened. He released me, walking backward into the circle with that infuriating grin by the time my brain caught up to what he did.
My hand slapped to my neck, my pulse racing.That motherfucker. My skin was still wet from his tongue.Oh, Christ. Did he give me a hickey?
I felt hot enough to burst into flames. I could still feel the pressure of his arm braced against my lower back, the beating of his heart against mine.
My eyes remained glued to him as he looked over the crowd, his panty-melting smile now turned predatory.
Suddenly, I really wanted to see him fight.
"Do I have any volunteers?" His voice rose crisply into the night sky, hands spread out to his sides. "Whoever's wanted to land one on your vice president, now's your chance!"
Soft murmurs traveled through the crowd, but no one seemed eager to jump in the ring with him.
"Anyone?" he taunted, licking his lips. "I'll even let you take the first swing!" When no one stepped up, he shook his head as if disappointed. "All right, then I'm picking—"
"Me!"
Everyone turned to look at a guy in his early twenties with a similar height and build as Jandro, but not nearly as muscular. He didn't look terribly confident in himself, but seemed determined. Like the other club members, he too wore a cut, but his didn't have any patches.
"Prospect," Jandro purred delightedly, beckoning the young man forward. "Come here."
The guy swallowed and clenched his fists at his sides as he stepped into the circle.
"What makes you want to fight me tonight, Prospect?" Jandro asked innocently.
The guy swallowed again and took a deep breath. "For that thing you did in the shop."
"And that was?" Jandro pressed. "Let it out, kid. This is the night to get all that shit off your chest."
