Page 6 of Addicted to the Bad Boy
Sandy laughs, and does so on my behalf. “No, tell me.”
The man starts blinking rapidly, trying not to laugh at his own joke.
“Wow, that’s a good one,” Sandy groans. “But we’re kind of having a girl talk right now, so if you wouldn’t mind?”
The guy frowns. His leather jacket makes me think of Finn. There are a few motorcycle gangs in this area, and I’m betting Finn is in one of them. Not whatever one this guy’s in, though. I can’t see the two of them ever getting along. Finn is strong, dominant, and sparse with his words. This guy’s grinning like a boy who just had his first beer and thought it would be fun to try a cheesy pickup line on a girl.
Like a movie flashback, our moment back in the closet comes rushing back to me…
His rough hands pulling me through the door, pinning me up against the wall and snatching my hair in his tight grip. He commanded me, spoke like he owned me, and had me tingling all over before he even got my pants down. And when he touched me…it was the most incredible sensation ever. I’m getting wet again just thinking about it and what else he could do to me.
What would his enormous cock feel like inside me? I’d never even had fingers in me until his. I wonder if it would hurt. Or would the pleasure just override everything else? From the look of his arms, I bet he has the most muscular physique ever, built from a hard life of riding and fixing motorcycles. I bet his abs are insane and his lips feel like—
Wow, what am I doing? This isn’t like me.
I never have thoughts like this. Never fantasize. Now I’m a flaming ball of red-hot horniness, just itching for more Finn.
Sandy nudges me under the table, and I realize I’ve just been spacing out completely, day-dreaming a whirlwind of dirty thoughts.
“Come on,” the guy says loudly. “That was a good one! Gimmie a chance for God’s sake.”
Before I can react, the man slides into the booth beside me and slips his sweaty, gross arm around my shoulders. My nose puckers. Clearly no one has told him about deodorant. He stinks like cigarettes and swampy salt water. I have to fight back a gag reflex as I try to struggle out from beneath him.
“Get your fucking hands off her!” Sandy snaps, God bless her.
“Relax!” The gross guy chuckles, pulling me closer. “She don’t mind, do you, sweetie?”
I open my mouth to speak, but before I can, I see Sandy’s eyes go wide again. This time, I’m not even able to turn aroundto see what she’s looking at. What I do see is her jaw drop like a young Brad Pitt just walked into the bar.
“Holy shit…” she mutters.
The bar goes quiet, and all I hear is the sound of heavy boots approaching, thudding across the old hardwood floor. They stop at our table, and a familiar voice growls, “Get your goddamn hands off her.Now.”
My heart skips a beat.
Holy shit.
Finn.
3
FINN
Jayne’s is prettypacked tonight, and I can feel everyone’s eyes on me. I ignore them and glare down at the scumbag with his arm around my woman. All I care about right now is her.
Mira Coolidge.
My cop buddy ran her plate an hour after she left. I wasn’t shocked to find out who her parents were. It made perfect sense given the Benz, the watch, and the wardrobe. What doesn’t make sense is how this bastard in front of me thinks he has the right to put his arm around her.
This princess belongs to me.
“Get your hands off her,” I repeat, my voice lower this time.
The prick looks up at me, and I recognize him immediately. His name is Stan, from the Smoke and Skulls, a biker gang that was almost completely wiped out by mine, The Heartless Bastards, a few years back.
“The fuck did you say—?” he starts to snarl but stops when he sees the patch on my jacket. His face hardens, and he lifts his arm off Mira. My heartrate slows slightly, but I’m still tense, my fists clenched and ready.
“That’s right,” I growl. “Get up and get lost.”
