Page 32 of Savage in the Streets
“What are you ‘yeahing’ me for? I’m telling you right now that I’m not gay.”
“You sound awfully offended.”
“It’s not that I have a problem with gay people, but I rather dislike being misidentified.”
“When’s the last time you had a girlfriend?”
It’s been ten years. Ten painful years since I learned a lesson that scourged my heart and left me hollow and empty: life is best traveled alone.
“Why would I date when I can ride for free?” I reply back.
Her brow narrows. “Did you look up biker slang to impress me?”
I feign offense. “Impress you? If my slang impresses you more than my penthouse, your standards are pretty low.”
“I’m not impressed by trust fund babies that throw money around.”
There it is again. She’s going to use every opportunity she can to throw my family’s success in my face when I’ve worked damn hard for what I’ve achieved.
But…I suppose I was bragging. Usually, I try hard not to act like an arrogant asshole, but some part of me wants to show off for Bailey. It makes no sense. She barely has the means to make her life work. Correction: she doesn’t have the means to make her life work, and yet…
You want to show off to her so she’ll like you. So she’ll want you. So you can kiss those sweet lips of hers again.
I desperately want to be wrong, but that would be a lie. Bailey Savage is smokin’ hot, witty, and brazen as any woman’s ever been in a delicious little package that I’m itching to unwrap.
Which is completely unethical in my position as her lawyer. In fact, the rules are pretty clear when it comes to having sex with your client: don’t!
Time to rebuild the wall.
“Maybe I’ll just cover myself in tattoos and poor life decisions to earn your respect.”
Her cheeks redden. Good. I want her to be angry. I need to build this wall sky high.
Time to throw gasoline on the fire.
“Or maybe just rob a retirement home.”
The look on her face tells me I’ve gone too far. It’s not of fury, which I had hoped to ignite. It’s of shame.
“So you don’t believe me,” she says quietly, her green eyes locked onto mine.
The thing is—I do believe her. I don’t think she swindled those gray hairs out of their retirement.
But this woman is way too good at making me feel things, and by that, I don’t just mean my cock. I barely know her, but she has this way of getting under my skin, and when she does, all that exists is her.
“Let’s just say I’m not in a hurry to introduce you to my dear, sweet granddad.”
Pain. Anger. Resentment. She doesn’t even try to hide her feelings from me.
And the only feeling that touches me is hatred. For myself.
But this is how it has to go.
To make my point clear, I get up from my seat and leave the room, feeling like a complete and total bastard.
Chapter 9
Bailey
