Page 26 of Bullseye
She stops short and looks down at the ground.
“It’s more like a what?” Bending down, I look into her eyes. “More like a warning?”
“Oh, who knows what I’m saying,” she mumbles, dropping her arms and letting them swing freely by her sides. Then, looking up at me, she flashes a big, bright smile. There’s no doubt she’s trying to distract me. “It’s late, and my adrenaline’s tanking.”
“Yeah, I think we could both use some rest. Let me just get your window boarded up, and we’ll hit the sack. Do you have anything we could use?” Looking around the apartment that she hasn’t bothered to unpack, I doubt she has a stash of tools and plywood hanging around. “Tools? Even something I can cover the window with?”
“No tools.” Shrugging, she chews the corner of her pouty lip. “I use Nick’s tools when I work on the bikes. I like to travel light, so I don’t really have anything here.”
“Yeah.” Why the hell does she travel light? “Seneca, where are you from?”
“What?” The look of surprise in her eyes… I’ve caught her off-guard.
“You heard me.”
Shrugging, she swallows hard. “What does it matter?” Deep in her eyes, I see the sincerity.
“Because when you don’t tell me, I think there’s a reason why. And I’d like to know.”
“And do I know everything about you?” she asks.
“No.” I see her point. She’s right. Actually, she doesn’t know shit about me, and neither does anyone else. Including Harry, my best friend.
Sighing, she answers, “Florida.”
“You’re from Florida?”
Glancing over my right shoulder, she nods.
She’s lying. But why?
“Makes sense,” I say. “Your tan skin, you seem to like the heat.”
“Yeah.” She shrugs. “It makes sense. So, how about a sheet? I have an extra sheet and a staple gun.”
“That’ll do.”
Smiling, she turns and walks to the linen closet. Bending down to reach in, she gives me the perfect view of just a sliver of her shapely ass peeking out of the bottom of my shirt. Oh, fuck.
My reaction sits straight in my groin again.
Standing up straight, she yanks down the T-shirt and walks to me with the sheet in her hand. She points to the kitchen. “Staple gun is in the kitchen drawer near the fridge. And I hope you weren’t staring at my ass.”
“What if I was?”
With a smirk, she turns, and looking over her shoulder, reaches down with one hand and flashes me her bottom. That’s it. Dropping the sheet, I rush forward and grab her. She squeals as I spin her around in my arms, and then gently toss her onto the bed.
My raging hard-on wants to take her right here and right now again, but my heart and brain know better. I want to get her someplace completely safe, and then spend the rest of the morning making love to her.
Hopefully, I can persuade her to go to the club later in the day. No one’s bike needs that much attention.
“Come on. Grab a bag,” I tell her. “We’re going to my place. None of the windows are broken there, so we won’t wake any of the neighbors when you moan and cry out.”
Raising an eyebrow, she tilts her head. “Pretty sure of yourself aren’t you, Bullseye?”
“Why, yes, ma’am, I am. Now, go. Before I have to put you over my knee and paddle your ass for making me wait. And then, I won’t be able to stand it. I’ll have to take you right here on your bed next to the open window. What will your poor neighbors think?”
Smirking again, she turns and grabs a bag, doing as I say.
