Page 17 of Enemy
I don’t know why I’m glad, since I’ve come here to gut him. Maybe I’m the one with the death wish.
His eyes narrow as he pins his gaze to me, and his right hand dips to the knife sheath I’ve never seen him without, the one always wrapped in a faded old bandana. “Easy there, Blue Eyes. We both know that’s not what we want out of this,” he says softly.
I’m so confused I slash at him again, because I want his knife out. That, I understand. Compliments from a man? From fuckingRoadkill? That leaves me confused, and when I’m unsure about something, I prefer to punch first, think later.
A curse falls from his lips, but when I jab forward again, and the blade tears a hole in his jacket, he finally understands that this is for real, and steel glints in his right hand.
“And they tellmeI’m messed up,” he growls as we both circle one another in the lit-up space between our bikes.
How wrong is it that seeing him like this only makes me hornier? I was never into cute and soft guys. It’s what got me in trouble in the first place. And now I’m back at square one, about to either kill or die.
“You’ve wanted to be rid of me for years. Now’s your fucking chance,” I say to distract him right before I aim my knife for his hand.
Road snorts, changing direction and coming a bit too close for my liking. He’s moving like a cobra, and I know the muscles that make his body so unbelievably tempting might flex and propel him toward me at any moment. “I wantyour clubgone. Not the same as wishing you were dead, Blue Eyes.”
He’s never called me that before. Not in a mocking way, not ever. This new focus on a physical trait of mine is fucking with my head and getting under my skin. Because… is he saying he likes my eyes? Or is he trying to distance my looks from who I am? Most of all, why do I care what he likes? Road is trash. A fucking lowlife from nowhere who lives solely to impress his buddies.
When I meet his gaze, he winks at me, and I fucking lose it.
I launch myself at him in a vicious attack and a roar of fury tears from deep in my chest. He pulls in his stomach, but I still manage to slash through his T-shirt and I swear I must have cut him at least a little too.
But anger is my downfall. Too focused on his knife, I don’t anticipate the punch to my wrist coming, and it’s so hard my knife falls from my hand. As I dip after it, Road kicks my legs from under me, and I collapse to the cracked asphalt. Pain spreads from my hipand shoulder. As I’m about to roll away to get my bearings and find the dagger, a heavy body smelling like my forthcoming doom lands on top, knocking the air out of my lungs.
His face looms over mine, dark eyes focused, teeth digging into his lower lip, and when I try to raise my head, Road slams it back down, and I shiver at the sudden nip on my neck.
His eyes widen.
“Keep the fuck still,” he says and shows me a knife he must have held against my throat. I catch a glimpse of blood before he presses it to my flesh again.
Did he just… save me from getting my own throat cut?
I stare at him, defeated. I don’t know what to do with my hands, so I pat the asphalt, but my knife isn’t within reach.
I’m so confused at his closeness that it strikes me we’ve always fought in public. Either in town, or with some of our club brothers around. But here, we’re all alone in the darkness, and his heart thuds against my chest. I can smell him. Sweat, blood, cherry tobacco, but also soap and fresh laundry. His closeness shouldn’t give me such a thrill. I should see him for what he is—a threat.
If I punch him, the blade is going into my throat, but if I do nothing, I’m as good as dead.
I swallow against the blade. “Do it,” I dare him, looking straight into his eyes. I want this madness to end, the beast gnawing at my insides each night gone.
He licks his lips, and is it just me, or did his breathing get faster? He’s already sporting a tan despite it only being May, yet I can still see the flush blooming on his features as he swallows. His fingers slide into my hair and he untangles my knot in a caress that sends jolts of electricity all the way to my balls. Who the fuck reacts like this to a simple touch?
I’m so damn broken, but my mind becomes a desolate desert somewhere in space when Road responds by pushing his knee against the inside of my thigh to spread my legs. The blade that was meant to end my life flies off and clatters against the asphalt, and the hand still sweaty from holding it pushes my wrist down.
What is happening?
I stiffen, out of breath, and I don’t know if I’m terrified or horny. I could fight. He’s thrown away his knife, and I’m not the scrawny boy I used to be. I could take him. I’ve learned to be vicious and unyielding so I’m never again at the mercy of some predatory fucker.
Instead, I make the tiniest moan I didn’t intend and raise my hips ever so slightly to rub my rock-hard cock against him. Because yeah, I got hard in seconds. And I want him to feel it.
The relief flooding my chest feels as if someone took a combat boot off my neck after keeping it there for years. He’s hard too.
Chapter 9
Road
Intenseheatweavesthroughmy muscles, making them tense and ready when I sense the hard erection lined up with mine.
Knife-fight, my ass. Blue-eyed boy came here forthis, no matter what lies he’s been telling himself to rationalize it, but this isn’t the moment to call him out. The wordless truce between us is fragile and could be shattered by a single wrong word.
