Page 9 of GOAT

What a fucking brat.

Abbie looked fucking sinful in a black dress with lacy, full-length sleeves. The dress stopped at mid-thigh on her and hugged her curves, and those fucking heels… Christ, I wanted to bend her over our table and have her for dinner instead of this expensive ass meal I was going to be paying for.

“You look like you want to eat me,” Abbie mused once our waiter had delivered our appetizers and we’d ordered our main courses.

I leaned back in my seat as I chewed on the bite of my food. When I reached up to brush a crumb from my lip with my thumb, her pupils blew wide, her eyes widening the slightest bit. The left side of my lips quirked up the tiniest bit with the beginnings of a smirk.

I’ve got you right where I want you, little devil.

“Little devil, I’ve been sitting here thinking of laying you out over this table, spreading your thighs open, pulling that tiny scrap of a thong I know you’re wearing aside, and burying my face between your thighs…” I glanced to the table before glancing up at her again, “with those sexy fucking heels draped over my shoulders.”

A shiver raced down her spine, and her skin flushed, the red spreading down her neck and her chest before disappearing beneath her dress. Her breathing grew the slightest bit heavier, and she seemed lost for words.

Got you.

A deep chuckle sounded from my chest, and I finally released her from my stare, focusing back on my food. It was good—maybe needed a little more seasoning—but I was too hungry to truly care or ask for a different appetizer.

“Did you and your brothers all grow up in foster care?” Abbie asked suddenly. I looked up at her as I grabbed my drink.

“Yeah,” I told her with a shrug. “Grew up in the same home for a little while.”

She hummed. “And you all just decided to form a motorcycle club?”

I chuckled. “It was Shaw and Konrad’s idea, actually,” I told her. That was public knowledge, really. “That’s why they’re the President and the Vice President, despite Jax being the oldest of all of us.”

Her brows furrowed at the mention of Jax. “Jax… is his girlfriend… okay?” she asked.

My shoulders shook with silent laughter, a grin splitting my cheeks. Blakely tended to be covered in bruises and bite marks from Jax. Thankfully, I never had to hear them fucking like rabbits since Jax was decent enough to take Blakely to a hotel for the night when they planned to get really rough. I was pretty sure Blakely made him so they wouldn’t traumatize Blu and Grey. Jax wasn’t really the kind of man to make sure any of us were comfortable about their sex life.

“Blakely is definitely okay,” I assured her. “She… likes what Jax does to her.”

Abbie’s frown deepened at that news, and she stared at her food for a long few seconds before looking back up at me. “Your club—what do you guys do?” she asked.

I shrugged. “Charity runs, mostly,” I partially lied. It wasn’t the whole truth, but I mean, we did do charity runs sometimes, especially when it centered around foster kids.

“What kind?” she asked, cocking her head to the side the slightest bit.

“This and that,” I told her. “Whatever we feel like.”

She arched a brow at me, looking oddly pleased about something. “You’re being evasive, Cameron.”

I snorted. “Not evasive,” I lied smoothly, nothing giving me away. “We don’t like bragging about what we do. It’s rude, honestly. And is it really helping people if we’re so eager to just blurt what we do to help them?”

She jerked back then, her smug expression falling. I wanted to laugh. “Well, no, I guess not,” she muttered. “I’m sorry for prying.”

No, you’re not, little devil. But I didn’t say that out loud. Instead, I just moved my plate to the side as the waiter made his way over to us with our meals. I looked at Abbie once the waiter was gone again. “Tell me, little devil. What made you decide to become a cop?”

She sighed. “Family,” she said.

I smirked, amused. “Who’s being evasive now?” I teased, crossing my arms over my chest.

She rolled her eyes but still didn’t give me an answer. I snorted and picked up my fork to eat my pasta. She was sulking, but that was fine. She was still hot as fuck, even when she was pouting.

Abbie’s frustration was clear as I drove her back to the mobile home she lived in about ten miles from the clubhouse. Our dinner had gone about much of the same as it’d started—me flirting and surprising her with the filth I let spill past my lips, her asking questions and me being evasive, and me asking questions in turn I knew she wouldn’t answer because she was too busy sulking.

She was so fucking hot when she was pouting. It made me want to order her to her knees, bury my fingers in that luscious, pin-straight dark hair, and fuck my cock into her sweet, curious mouth and down her tight throat.

I pulled up beside her car in front of her simple, wooden porch and shifted my truck into park. She stared at her front door for a moment before looking over at me. “Do you want to come in?”

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