Page 27 of Property of Tacoma
Her eyes close, and she sucks in a slow breath.
“Babe?”
She shakes her head, and slowly her eyes open, forcing a smile. “It’s okay.”
“No, Angel. It’s fucking not. I meant what I said, though. He’s always been an asshole, but he’s loyal as fuck. Once you break through, he’s got your back for life.”
She smiles sadly at me, and something in my chest tightens uncomfortably. I can’t explain it, but I have a sudden, overwhelming need to erase that sadness from her face. To slay all her dragons. To do whatever it takes to make her smile a real smile again.
What the hell is she doing to me?
Since when do I give a shit about a woman's feelings? Since when does anything beyond getting my dick wet matter?
"Let's ride," I say, not willing to examine these new feelings too closely.
Nodding her head, she struts across the alleyway. I follow behind her and climb on my bike, shooting Bane a look when our eyes catch. He’d better fix his fucking attitude before I fix it for him. Catching my look, he rolls his eyes.
I glance over at Foxy, and even with the full-face helmet she's put on, I can feel her eyes on me. I wish I knew what was going through her mind. Is she feeling this pull like I am? This tether?
“We going or what?” Bane barks.
I flip him off, then fire up my bike and pull out of the alley first. A heartbeat later, Foxy falls in beside me, with Bane bringing up the rear.
In no time we’re pulling into Dave's small parking lot. Foxy rode like she was born on a bike. It was perfect, all except for when we rode by King Crow Ink. Those horny bastards were standing outside smoking, and not a single one of them could take their eyes off her, tracking her every move like hungry wolves watching their prey.
I’ve never been the jealous type—not since Jennifer anyway—but seeing other men eye-fucking Foxy makes me want to put my fist through their fucking skulls.
I kill the engine, watching as Foxy gracefully dismounts her bike. She pulls off her helmet, and I nearly swallow my tongue as all that blonde hair tumbles free around her shoulders. Then, likeshe’s in one of those hot-as-hell shampoo commercials, she flips her head over and shakes out her long tresses.
When she flips back up, I can’t help but groan. Her cheeks are flushed pink from the Florida heat, and with all that wild hair framing her face, she has a freshly fucked look that makes my cock twitch.
“You’re totally screwed,” Bane mutters beside me.
Don’t I fucking know it.
“What?” Foxy asks, catching us both staring at her. She wipes at her face self-consciously. “Is my makeup crazy?”
“You’re beautiful.” The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them.
“I—” she blushes ten shades of pink and looks away. “Thank you. You’re not so bad yourself.”
“Seriously?” Bane grumps, but I’m hardly paying him any attention. I’m too enthralled by the woman standing in front of me.
I’ve never felt this kind of instant connection with anyone before. It’s like she’s got some kind of magnetic pull on me, and I’m powerless to resist.
“Fuck it,” I growl. Stalking around the back of her bike, I move right into her space. My hands go to her hips, and her breath catches.
I pull her close, and her lids droop.
Fuck yes.
She’s feeling it too. Slowly, giving her time to push me away if she doesn’t want this, I dip my head. “Gonna kiss you.”
“Okay,” she breathes.
My lips brush across hers, soft and sweet. She whimpers, and it’s my undoing.
Growling, I sweep my tongue across the seam of her lips, and she opens for me. My heart pounds against my ribcage like it’s trying to break free, and the taste of her—sweet like honey with a hint of mint—floods my senses.
