Page 87 of Maddox
She eyes the money and licks her lips before pulling out a beer and sliding it my way.
Nodding, I take a sip of the beer as she leans in and says, “She was with some preppy fucker. Young. Wore a hoodie.”
Pushing the money toward her, I keep my fingers pressed against it as I say, “Got a name?”
Shaking her head, she waves to another customer before saying, “No, but he knows people.”
“Who?”
When her eyes narrow, I release the money but once she reaches for it, I grab her hand and she huffs, “Cops. Seen ‘em around the neighborhood.”
After that she snatches her hand away and pockets the money before moving down the line just as Romeo appears at my side.
When I nod, he follows me toward the door.
If this fucker really is affiliated to cops somehow then that’s a whole new ballgame.
Our only option is to hang out and see if any assholes appear and I’m about to push through the door when a flash of light brings me around.
Squinting into the darkness, I watch as my fucking sister passes down a hall, easy to spot because of the sparkly combat boots on her feet.
“Fuck,” I growl and stomp that direction.
If she’s here, does that mean Delaney is too?
Delaney
I wake to a thunderstorm in my head and turn to my side, groaning.
What the hell?
My belly hurts and my throat burns.
Was I sick?
I try to remember anything leading up to this but it’s spotty. I fought with Joey. Draven picked me up and took me to a warehouse. I danced. Micah was there.
After that, I don’t remember shit.
I’m not in my room though and glancing to my right, I find Maddox asleep beside me.
My heart thumps at the sight of him in repose and I turn quietly, hoping not to wake him.
His bare chest rises and falls in a deep cadence, and I roll my eyes over his form, starting with the arm he has flexed behind his head.
The beautifully savage tattoos covering his skin provide a glimpse into this biker’s soul and I curl my fingers to keep from tracing the artwork of skulls, mysterious symbols, and tribal images, showing a darkness to his thoughts with a sprinkling of whimsical on the side.
I would think any man who selects his art so carefully must have more below the icy layers.
His smooth, well-defined pecs twitch, and I glance up at his face, my core pulsing at the sight of his lips relaxed, soft and no doubt warm.
I want to trace my finger over the ridges of his abs and feel the crisp hair leading into the band of his boxers.
When I spy his dick hardening beneath the sheets, my cheeks warm and I relive what we did in this room not too long ago.
My fingers tingle at the thought of reaching over and smoothing them over his skin but my savagely pounding head takes precedence.
Still, my curiosity grows as I take in his beautiful form and when Maddox stirs, I glance up to find him watching me with a tiny smirk.
