Page 32 of The Biker and the Loner
"If you don't make a move about that shit soon, I will," he threatens.
Through clenched teeth, I hiss, "It'snone ofyourbusiness."
I attempt to pull away from him, but he locks his muscles around me and keeps me in place. “You haven’t been paying attention, Ley? Youaremy business."
In the next second his tongue is rubbing against mine as he kisses me into submission. Helpless against him, I melt and sigh into his kiss, desirous heat stinging me all over. I love his taste, his lips, his confidence, the dominance of his kiss. I love the way my stomach flutters when he touches me, how heady his kisses make me.
"Ahem."
We break apart, heads whipping to the open front door.
Cookie stands over the threshold with three Tupperware containers. "Five years later,” she says as she strolls inside and sets the containers on the breakfast bar, “and this is finally happening."
Scrambling up off Scratch’s lap, I stand and straighten my blouse. "What?"
"You’ve always had it for each other.Bad," she explains. "I'd wondered if it would ever happen. Then this one went off to war and I thought, ‘guess not.’"
Really?
Scratch jumps up and beelines to the bar, popping the lids of the Tupperware. "Food," he groans with appreciation. Then unwraps the cutlery and digs in, moaning at the first bite.
For the umpteenth time today, I roll my eyes at him. He’s too damn extra.
Cookie glances around. "You've got nowhere to sit."
"We—um, Scratch bought a couch set today. It's being delivered in a few days."
"And what else?"
"A TV-stand and coffee table."
She ambles around the empty space, assessing. "I've got a bunch of things in storage collecting dust. If you aren’t too proud, I can give you guys some barstools for the breakfast bar, a table set for the dining room, area rugs, side tables…"
She glances over at Scratch who's too busy stuffing his face to care. "Yo, Soldier Boy, round up two prospects to come get some stuff from my storage container tomorrow."
Scratch gives a thumbs up without even bothering to look up from the food.
Cookie shakes her head with a snort and gives me a look. "Good luck tryna feed that one. I saw him eat an entire bucket of fried chicken by himself once."
I follow her through the dining area and out the French doors that lead to a backyard with a large patio and garden. A full wrought-iron patio set’s been left behind as well. There’s a covered hot tub, a small drained pool, a built-in barbecue and grilling station.
"You're moving in?" she asks me.
"Oh, no. No. I'm just helping out."
With a scoff, she turns to face me. "Why'd you fake it for so long with Grunt when the brother you really wanted was Scratch?"
I've heard about Cookie. That she's not only blunt, inquisitive, and all up in everyone’s business, but also seems to “know” or “see” things that others don’t.
We've never had an actual conversation before. Although it feels somewhat good to finally be acknowledged by her, I’m also wary.
"You've never spoken to me before," I blurt.
"Because I didn’t trust you," she says easily. "You showed up out of nowhere claiming you wanted to be a Club Cat, but I could smell the virgin innocence on you. You followed Grunt around like a lost puppy but looked at Scratch like you wanted to rip his clothes off. Get it now?"
Well, when she puts it that way... I snicker. "Yeah." I comb my fingers through my hair. "He was a sleep-around. I couldn’t…"
"And still you waited for him," she points out.
