Page 48 of Bullet

His gaze locked on mine. “The situation was fucked from the beginning. We had to get out from under the cartel. The Crawlers had a hit out on Blade and Rogue. We’d planned for months. I fucking shot Rogue to prove my loyalty to the Crawlers. Left my club, spit on my cut, and turned my back on my brothers.”

The woman hollered that our order was ready.

Bullet stubbed out his cigarette. “I’ll get it.”

My chest ached. I’d been focused on what that night had meant for me, I hadn’t considered what Bullet had been through. I didn’t need to know all the details to know he had scars.

He set the open cardboard box on the table. “White wrappers are the barbacoa, yellow are chicken.” He handed me a plastic fork. Styrofoam containers were filled with rice and beans.

I grabbed one of the chicken tacos. I took a big bite and moaned as I chewed. “Oh my god, this is good.”

Bullet paused, reached over the table, and gathered a drip of sauce from my lip. My tummy flipped as he sucked the flavor from his thumb. “Mmm.”

I swallowed hard and held the taco over the table between us. “Do you want a bite?”

Bullet leaned in, wrapped his hand around my wrist, parted those full lips, and ate half the taco in one bite. I stared at the remainder of my taco and laughed. “Remind me not to share with you.”

He smiled as he chewed and swallowed. He opened his second taco and offered me the first bite. I shifted onto my knees, braced my hands on the table, and leaned over. I opened my mouth as wide as I could and took a huge bite.

Barely able to close my mouth, I groaned and tried not to choke. Juices leaked from the corner of my mouth and trickled to my chin. I sat down, gathered the drip, and sucked my finger into my mouth.

“Yours is better.” I garbled the words as I chewed, trying not to let any taco fall out of my mouth. Tears filled my eyes as I tried not to laugh.

“I’m not going to let you eat in public.” He shifted on his seat, looked around confirming no one was nearby, and he slid his hand into the front of his jeans and adjusted his cock.

“Are messy eaters a thing for you?” I asked, swallowing the last of the bite and picking up the bottled water.

“I was wrong when I said your mouth was only good for bitching.”

My eyes widened.

“Suck your finger again and the ride back is going to be uncomfortable for me.”

I picked up the napkin and wiped my mouth. He dug into the rice and beans, but my appetite had morphed into a different kind of hunger.

“You’re thinking too much, brown eyes. I just meant your mouth is made for smiling. You have a nice laugh, too.”

“Oh.” I forced a chuckle, but I had to admit, that stung. I unwrapped the other chicken taco, but the image of Scarlett on her knees still burned in my mind. In that moment, I’d wanted to be her. But he was teasing, and I was still humming with pent up sexual energy. “Really?”

He shrugged. “No.”

“What?” I tried to laugh his comment off again.

“Fuck, Stormy. Yeah, you have a beautiful smile unless you’re directing it at Steele. Then I fucking hate it. Same with your laugh.”

“Probably how I felt about seeing your dick in Scarlett’s mouth.”

I’d mumbled the words, but he heard. He closed the container of rice and gathered up the wrappers. “That shit won’t happen around you again.” He stood and took the containers to the garbage. I finished my water, tossed it into the trash, and followed him to the motorcycle.

He threw his leg over the bike. I rested my hand on his shoulder. My stomach tumbled withregret. I shouldn’t have said anything. “I’m sorry,” I softly said as I settled in behind him.

“You got nothing to be sorry about.” The engine rumbled, and the bike rolled forward. “Last night was a mistake. I wanted you, and I used Scarlett.”

For the first couple of miles, his shoulders were stiff. I was careful to keep my hands still. Whatever progress we’d made seemed to have evaporated with one careless comment. Maybe he was waiting for me to make it okay between us.

A flare of anxiety stripped my confidence. I closed my eyes and rested my forehead against his back. It wasn’t as if our friendship could be any more difficult or get any more awkward. I splayed my hand and gently rubbed against the scallops of muscle on his stomach.

Bullet took his left hand from the bike and covered mine. He slid his fingers through the crevices of mine until they interlocked. A slip of relief heated my blood. I didn’t want to fight with him, not when I’d already fallen for him.

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