Page 92 of Falling in Reverse

“I haven’t been impressed with what I’ve seen so far.”

Torin’s expression lifts in tandem. “Really? Do I need to work out more?”

Silently, I sigh, because what’s the point? He has an answer to everything, ladies and gentlemen.

“I want you to kiss me,” he professes under his breath. “You kiss me, and I give you the number.”

“For someone who wants me out of the picture, you sure do have a fucked-up way of acting.”

“I want to remember if you still taste the same.”

“I do,” I reply. “I’m sweeter.”

His heavy gaze falls to my lips. “I was thinkin’ more sinful.”

I smile. “You’d know all about that, wouldn’t you, Pretty Boy?”

“I’m not going to bitch if you wanna kiss me, Wildfire.”

“Who the fuck said anything about kissing?”

He nods at me. “Your breathing. And I just did. That is…if you want the number.”

“We’re here,” Hot Rod announces, thank fuck, and I pocket my gun before glancing around at where we are.

The shipping docks.

We’re in South Shore.

“Damn, Pretty Boy,” I muse through the cockiness still stifling the air. “Looks like you’re more fucked than you thought.”

He takes that moment to observe what’s outside the window and the back of his head hits the padded seat.

Checkmate.

“You’re seriously going to leave me in here with no clothes?” Torin asks me that question as though I’m supposed to have some sort of empathy for his situation.

I don’t.

Especially when he hasn’t given me a number to call and only creates more work for the guys to get the word out to his butt buddies.

“That’s correct,” I say at the end of the red shipping container he’s in. “Sleep well.”

“I’d advise not to deliver a frozen corpse to Cairo or Reeve. They’re not going to be very happy.”

“Then we’ll match, because I’m extra pissed that you took it upon yourself to jump my boy.”

I see half his face twist from the lack of light inside the metal container. “Your boy? I never once heard on the streets that you belonged to Wallace.”

“Then your sources suck as much balls as you do.”

“Baby, I’ve gotten my hands on you once before…”

He has. I hate that he remembers that.

I loathe that I recall it just as much, because Torin Wildes was exactly what his last name portrays. He had me in the palm of his hand, and he didn’t give a fuck what the consequences were going to be for me, just that he’d get what he wanted.

“I want you.” His warm breath against the column of my throat sends my body through a flurry of panic and need. I shouldn’t be here. I should have screamed when his hand reached out for me and pulled me in between two tents to speak to me. “Why are you still with him, when you know he’s never going to end up with you?”

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