Page 21 of One Love

Fuck.

A letter. A fucking letter.

When I got my bike back, there was a triangle scratched on the tank except, it wasn’t a triangle, was it?

D.

“You motherfucker.” I scream out those two words and, in the distance, I hear the faint sound of a chuckle that makes my entire body buzz with excitement. It could be sexual but, also, it’s probably just the anticipation of violence.

Folding the paper in two and sliding it inside the back pocket of my leathers, I walk around the table and begin his game.

“Dmitry, Dmitry, Dmitry. Did you have fun stalking me?”

With one finger, I peek around a piece of red tarp, noticing the area behind it is lined with intermittent candles giving me enough light to see where I’m going. How fucking gentlemanly of him.

“Does Zavier know how much time you spend not working?” As I speak, I use the barrel of my gun to pull away the sailcloth, ready to stab him if I have to.

A creak sounds just to the right of me and instead of turning toward the noise, I crouch, making myself smaller, less visible. Although, I have a feeling this entire space is set up to his advantage, and despite this little game of hide and go seek, none of the hairs on my body are freaking out and telling me to run.

Just below one of the tarps, I don’t miss the quick come and go of a shadow, making me grin like a dog on a full belly. I could taunt him again, see if I can get him to move, but as I take a step back to look under the crinkly barrier, I feel the presence behind me.

I don’t hesitate, moving on instinct alone. My arm swings around, ready for impact as I hit something solid with the back of my elbow. The grunt thathmphsout of him is like a fresh shower after a good kill.

With both of my hands occupied with the gun and the knife, I’m not quick enough to push myself off the floor to a standing position before he’s caught me by the back of the hair, pulling me to the nearest wall.

I don’t fight him, that would only waste my energy. I just let him drag me up to standing as he reaches for my knife.

We both know I’m not going to shoot him, he’s not an enemy…yet.

But I might see how far I can bury my blade in him…somewhere less important so he’s maimed but not dead.

Just as he thinks he’s got me where he wants me, I drop the gun, drop to my knees, and flip around until his hold on me is ripped away.

We’re standing mere feet away, the large space echoing our loud breaths as we size each other up.

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re sexy when you’re stabby?” Jesus, who is this guy?

“I recall someone calling me a Stabby Queen. Maybe you know him? Six feet what…four inches? No balls, big on stalking. Likes to hide in the shadows and…” I look up at the ceiling like I’m trying to find the words. “Oh yeah, cut himself shaving so…no hand-eye coordination.” I raise my brow at the scar that runs down from his brow to the top of his cheek, flashing him a fake smile, teeth and all.

Dmitry doesn’t even flinch, bringing two fingers to his eye and tapping his index twice. “You forgot the green eyes.” Leaning a few inches toward me, he stage-whispers. “They got me laid on more occasions than I’d like to admit. Especially whenI’m wearing my black-rimmed glasses.” His cocky grin says otherwise; he loves to admit it.

I shrug. “Pity fucks don’t count.”

My eyes catch on my gun, still lying on the floor, as my breaths begin to calm. Bending at the knees, I take my eyes off him to pick it up. I realize my mistake as soon as the gun is at my fingertips.

Never take your eyes off your opponent. Devon Quinn taught me that and if he were here, he’d kick my ass for such a rookie move.

I don’t even fight the hold Dmitry gets on me as he slams me against the wall again, but this time, his entire body is pressed tightly against mine. Hard cock and all.

“You know, we need to stop meeting like this,” I say, tone bored, even if my body is nothing less than on fire from the heat of him. “I’m going to start thinking you’re a sex fiend. Might have to report you to the appropriate authorities.”

“Hmmm.” Dmitry’s nose runs up along my exposed neck then across my clenched jaw and I feel every one of his breaths like I feel my pussy throbbing for something. Anything. “You could call me out for so much worse than just a hard dick anytime you’re within a mile of me. So. Much. More.” He accentuates his last three words with a nip of his teeth on my heated skin. “Yet, you choose to focus on that. On the part that’s most interesting to you.” I scoff at his words but the air gets stuck in my throat as his leg fights its way between mine, rubbing at my pussy and creating a desire that I’m going to need to alleviate.

Guilt assaults me but I push it down. This isn’t about love or about forgetting Murphy. This is business. And, well…I work better after a good orgasm.

“Less talking, more rubbing.” My intention is to sound unaffected but really…my ache is real and the things I want himto do to me are multiplying in my mind like horny rabbits on a rampage.

Dmitry’s fingers wrap around my wrist, pressing on my nerves at the base of my palm until my hold on my knife disappears. The next thing I know, he’s got the tip of the blade at my neck and his mouth is slowly sliding across my lips, whispering, tempting, teasing me.

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