Page 15 of Cold Foot Revenge
“I like it fine,” she snapped, feeling defensive. “It’s what I do, it’s what I’ve done for years, it’s my job.”
“But you have resumes out at a bunch of places around town.” He arched his blond eyebrows higher. Shit he was annoying, calling her out like this.
“Point is, you’re real good at what you do. I saw you dancing. It was super-hot. I jacked off to it last night just like probably a thousand other guys have done during your time at the Rabbit Hole.”
“You jacked off to me?”
“Focus,” he said in a deep voice. “I saw frustration though, and sadness. You seemed drained at moments. That’s not a dream job, Roxy the yote shifter. It’s a steppingstone job.”
“Yeah, well I can make a ton of cash in one night if I need it,” she uttered.
“Then why are you four days late on rent?”
“Because…” Fuck she hated this. “Coming here was a mistake,” she gritted out, standing. She yanked the door open to leave, but Dylan’s palm pushed on it, and the door handle slipped from her grasp.
Angry, she rounded on him to cuss him out, but the fire in his eyes was abundant in the split second before his lips crashed onto hers.
She was shocked into frozen stillness, and neither of them moved. It was a harsh kiss, his lips rigid on hers, and then he pulled back with a soft smacking sound, and hovered there, right in front of her face, searching her eyes.
“I don’t want to argue,” he rumbled in a gritty voice.
“We aren’t arguing,” she whispered.
“You’re angry.”
She swallowed hard and tried to remember what she’d been angry about. Nothing came to her blank mind. Roxy cleared her throat. “Is that your move? When you piss a woman off? You just kiss her without warning?”
He inhaled deeply and said, “It wasn’t my move until you.”
She crossed her arms over her chest, unsure of how to feel. He was Dylan Hoffman. He was one of the targets. He was here on borrowed time, and he should’ve been well on his way back to Wreck’s Mountains if he wanted to avoid the hell that was coming for him.
But…even rigid, the kiss was…something.
Inside of her, little flutters consumed her stomach and gave her this giddy sensation she didn’t understand.
“Still angry?” he asked, testing, and now there was this little smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.
He was so close to her, and he smelled so good. “A little. I think.”
He inhaled deeply and stood straighter, squared up to her and slipped his hand to the back of her neck. “What about now?”
This was the part where she was supposed to run. This was the part where she was supposed to save him and chase him out of town.
But she didn’t. Couldn’t maybe. She was too selfish. Instead, she said, “I’m still feeling a little…frustrated with you.”
The smirk on his lips stretched to a smile and then faded. He leaned down and kissed her lips, this time much more gently. It was a soft sip, like he was tasting fine whiskey. Just a few seconds, and then he eased back again. This time, she’d closed her eyes. This time, she’d leaned into it. This time, she’d been ready.
Roxy opened her eyes, feeling drunk as she swayed. Dylan kept his grip on the back of her neck firm, and he slid his other hand to her waist to steady her.
“Still mad?”
She swallowed hard again and shook her head. “I think I’m okay.”
His smile was the best one she’d ever witnessed. It was perfect, white teeth, and masculine lips, and faint dimples barely visible through his two-day facial scruff.
Dylan leaned down to just an inch from her lips, and whispered, “Good girl.”
Chills rippled up her forearms, and when he released her, she staggered forward, unsure if her legs could even hold her weight anymore.
