Page 68 of Red My Lips

I never expected it to be easy. Up until now, men have been nothing but disappointments in her life. But I’m nothing like her abusive ex, pathetic excuse of a father, or her leech of a brother. Jill is mine to protect, to care for, and baby. She just needs to realize it.

For months, I planned and fantasized about how I would win her over once I got the chance. And now that it’s working, I have no intention of stopping.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Jill

“Come with me tonight, the game’s gonna last until tomorrow. I don’t like being away from you that long.” Gage steers the car with one hand, the other resting on my upper thigh as he drives us across town towards the Halfway House. His thumb traces mindless circles in my skin, sending tingles between my legs.

We’re meeting up with a few of Gage’s friends at the bar, and he’s already spent the entire drive trying to convince me to ditch my plans for tonight to join him at The Raven for a big poker game. But I’m not having any of it.

“I have plans with Lana. I’ll be sleeping over at her place tonight,” I remind him.

“You really need another girl’s night?” he counters. I flash him a look of disapproval.

“I’ve been having these girls’ nights for a long time. Don’t think I’ll start ditching Lana for you just because we’re together. I’m not one of those girls who forgets about her friends for some guy.”

“I’m not some guy, little devil. I’m yours.” His grip on my leg tightens, his fingers digging into the ample flesh as his fingertip press closer to my wet pussy. “And you’re mine.”

“Are you gonna hit me over the head with your club and drag me back to your cave next?” I ask flatly, unamused.

“You want my club? I’d like to pound you into submission, and I know just how good your head is.” Turning into the parking lot, he uses one hand on the wheel to whip into a spot. It’s fucking hot.

“I’m going to strangle you.” Irritation mixes with the desire swirling through me.

“Oh yeah?” He grins at me like the devil. “What else?”

I lean closer to him, stopping over the center console. Crooking my finger, I gesture for him to come closer. “Come here,” I murmur. Gage obeys without hesitation, stopping less than an inch from me. I cup his face in my hands and pull him closer until his lips are just barely brushing mine, his facial hair tickling my chin.

“You piss me off,” I say softly, my eyes flickering to his lips.

“You turn me on.” He matches the softness of my tone, his eyes gazing at me deeply.

“We’re going inside the bar now, and I want you on your best behavior.” His brows jump, his expression darkening. “Pretty please.”

“Since you asked so nicely.” He pushes closer to press a soft kiss on my lips. Pulling back, his gaze touches every inch of my face tenderly. “I’m obsessed with you.”

“You’re going to give me space to socialize,” I state expectantly. “Right?” The edges of Gage’s face sharpen, his tender gaze on me turning intense. Predatory.

A thrill runs through me like a hit of dopamine, it’s intoxicating.

“Don’t forget who you’re talking to, Menace. If I can’t have my hands on you, there’s no escaping my eyes.” He stares at me for a long moment, watching my defiance war with my attraction. “Let’s get inside before I turn this car around and take you back home.”

The Halfway House is fairly busy for a Tuesday afternoon. Chained Saints and locals mingle at the bar and around the pool tables. Rock music plays from the old jukebox in the corner. When Gage and I enter, there’s a chorus of greetings, mainly for Gage.

Stevie stands with two other women on the other end of the bar. I recognize them from the barbeque—Alexis and Ruby. Stevie’s smiling and waving me over as soon as she catches my eye. Moving to peel myself away from Gage’s side, I don’t make it more than two steps before he catches me by the belt loop and tows me back in. When I turn around to face him, his hands wrap around me to plant firmly on my ass.

“So quick to run away from me,” he murmurs teasingly with a smirk.

“Best behavior, remember?”

My tone is casual, but my eyes dare him to misbehave. His smirk grows into a grin.

“I’ll let you go socialize,” he promises. “But not before this.” He leans down to kiss me soundly, our lips dancing in a passionate give and take. This kiss is more than a display of affection. It’s public branding—though I’m not sure of whom, him or me.

His tongue slips in to taste mine, making me moan softly.

Definitely both.

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