Page 97 of Queen Of WildCards

Thatdid it.ThefuckingKingswere as unstable asSpadeon his worst days.

Ithad been two days since the incident at the ring, and we were all still on edge about it.Acecouldn't walk outside without panicking that a new homeless person had taken up residence on our block.Andheaven forbid a strange car happened to ride by us more than once.

Wewere all on edge, each for our own reasons.

Jokerknew if they found out he was the one who'd done the heist, his life would be forfeit.Spadewas still seething over his loss at the hands of their brawler.I'dhacked into the gym's security system and made it a point to watch their every move, and still, somehow, their ghost had outwitted me, looping useless footage under my watchful eye.

Acewas just . . . well,Ace.Ithink he took it as a personal affront that his prize had been snatched up right beneath his nose.

Rightnow, we were scattered in the house—Spadein his torture room, beating the fuck out of aKingsinformant he picked up on the docks;Jokerin his room, washing off the dirt from a day of working amongst the trash heap of the underworld;Acewas holed up in his office, perusing who knew what.

Thatleft me andMallory.AndIhad a hankering for more of her touches.

Theretraining therapy she had me on was great—Iheld her longer and longer each time, and her touch no longer made me recoil in disgust.Itwas slow going for a while, but the way she looked at me whenIpushed past my discomfort and got out of my own head long enough to touch her, well, it was worth all the mental agonyIworked up.

Fuck.

ThesemiIsported behind my sweats was becoming a common occurrence, not that she seemed to mind, always with that little smirk and a wink as she sashayed away from me in shorts too obscene for her to wear out of this place, or the so-called innocent caresses of her own body when she knewIwas watching.

Shecould make a killing as a torturer if she could make all her victims fall in love with her first.

Love.

Istopped in my tracks, unable to move a step further as the realization jolted through me at breakneck speed.Atsome point in all of this, baring our souls to each other, saving her from near death, her steadfast determination to return the capabilities of a normal man to me, she'd managed to worm her way into my soul, and damned if scraping her out would be more like torture than a rescue at this point.

"Mal,"Icalled out, seeking her like a sunflower seeks the sun each day, aching to have her light shine on me, cleansing me and making me whole again. "Mal?"

Isearched every fucking room in the damn place—bedrooms, kitchen, bathrooms, even the fucking office, but found nothing.Still,Iknew she was here; it was just a matter of figuring out where she could possibly be hiding—

"Mal?"

Ipoked my head in the garage and peered around, pleased when my eyes fell on her shapely backside bent over a car's open hood, earbuds in her ears, her hips wiggling to the music only she could hear.Iached to wander over and put my hands on her while she was unaware, soIgave into my baser urges and snuck up on her, moving like a shadow, the distance between us closing with every step.

Thesecond my hands slid around her hips, she yelped and jumped a good foot in the air, her fucking adorable crop top riding higher on that flat expanse of skin.Ilet my thumbs graze it as she spun in my arms, and her shock turned to a playful scowl.

"Jonah!"

Herswat at my chest was like a fucking fly landing on me, andIlaughed at the tickle, my eyes sparkling with a lightnessIhadn't felt in years.Mylips drifted forward and danced across hers, just for a second, but it was enough to trigger her usual response—first, she froze, then she melted into it, letting me lead this dance as our lower halves melded against each other.

Ibroke away first, as usual, my eyes blown wide, pupils dilated, no doubt, panting with need.

"Youknow, with that music so loud, anyone could have snuck in and kidnapped you, and you wouldn't have a chance to even scream."

Shetwined those oil-stained fingers behind my neck and leaned her ass against the edge of the car. "Well,Iguess it's a good thingI'mkeeping my current kidnappers close," she quipped, letting one of her hands trail down my chest, smearing us both with oil and grease. "Doany of you men believe in basic car maintenance?Acehasn't changed his oil in years, it looks like."

Ilifted a shoulder in a half-assed response, my mind elsewhere. "Jokerkeeps his bike maintained, at least."

Shescowled at me as ifIwas somehow less of a man for never bothering to take my car in for an oil change.

Ihad more important things on my mind usually.Likenow, for existence.

Iwas painfully aware of how close to herIwas, andI'dstake my life on it she could feel the hardness in my sweats, aching for her.

NotthatIknew how to use that on her.

"Jonah," she whispered, her head cocked to the side, eyes at half-mast, those long lashes drawing me in like the sweetest taste of an addicting drug. "You'reall dirty now."Hereyes trailed over the grease spots she'd left on my skin, a faint worry line forming on her brow.

Iwanted to open my mouth and taunt her with suggestive innuendos, likeJokerandSpade.Iwanted to roll my hips likeAcedid to her when she got too close, showing her the thingsIplanned to do to her body.Hell,I'dsettle for half-cocked honesty at this point.ButIwasn't any of them, andIwasn't sureIcould work up the words building in my chest.

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