Page 46 of Bullet

Steele sighed. “She’s only had those about three months.”

“If she’s wearing them like shoes, they won’t last long. Maybe let her wear the old ones and have her keep her new pair to use when she’s in ballet class.”

Steele’s jaw ticked, and his hand curled into a fist on top of the bar. “I’ll talk to Heather.”

“If it’s a problem, don’t worry about it. She’s little. Her feet will be fine.”

He pushed his beer aside. “I’ll get her the shoes for Tuesday. I think I’m going to crash.” He slid off the stool.

Bullet entered the room. Steele gave him a two-finger wave and disappeared down the hall.

“You good?”

I leaned against the bar. “I’m hungry.”

“Me, too.” He reached in and brushed away a curl clinging to my lashes. The touch of his fingertips sent a flare of heat through me. For the beat of myheart, I forgot to breathe. A knowing smirk twisted his lips. “Burgers or tacos?”

I swallowed the extra spit in my mouth. “I’m easy.”

He chuckled. “Brown eyes, you’re anything but. Come on, let’s go.”

“Go where?”

“Out.” He pulled his bike keys from his pocket.

I threw the towel into the sink and scampered around the bar. “Really? Is it safe?” He had me walk in front of him. “I guess that’s a stupid question. Probably not, but we need to eat. Maybe we should bring Rogue with us.” I glanced over my shoulder. “You know, he’s terrifying.”

He didn’t laugh, just hooked an arm around my shoulders, tugged me close, and kissed my temple. “That mouth.”

My heart skipped a beat.Friends, I reminded myself, even though every part of me relished the closeness. He opened the door for me but kept his palm curled around the nape of my neck.

“Maybe I should get my knife. It scared methhead Billy.”

“Do I want to know about methhead Billy?”

“Seeing as you like violence, probably not. He was my neighbor at the motel. He’s sort of an entrepreneur.”

“Did he touch you?”

Bullet’s thumb ran along my flesh. I shouldn’t want him to touch me. I shouldn’t want his teasing and his attention. But I hadn’t felt safe in a long time. With Bullet, I did. And with the pinch in his brow, he was considering ways of hurting Billy.

“No. I would’ve stabbed him. If I had a gun, I would’ve felt safer walking home.”

Bullet growled. The playfulness between us thickened into a darker heaviness. His tone mired me in wants. He was the most dangerous kind of drug. A taste would become a craving and then a relentless, unescapable slide into addiction. It would be too easy to become corrupted by him, his abrasiveness, the grit and danger.

Friends teased. Lovers were possessive and protective.

I gave him a flirty smile, disarming the brutally beautiful man who’d plagued my nights for months.

“Maybe I should get a gun. You have a gun.” Breaking the burn of his touch, I pivoted and faced him, then took a step backwards. “Rogue has a gun.”

“Mine is bigger.”

I stumbled in my steps.

“Nothing else to say?”

“I didn’t get a good look at his gun,” I mumbled.

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