Page 8 of Felonies are Forever

A body with just the right amount of bulk and lean, with shoulders that look like they could handle the weight of the world? Check.

Not to mention, a gleaming motorcycle parked outside the front window. Black and chrome and bright yellow.

And what the fuck is he wearing? Not biker leathers. Oh no. Because that would be far too predictable, wouldn’t it?

No, what he’s wearing is only the most beautiful suit I’ve ever seen on a man, with just the right amount of sheen and all the right amount of fit. How could he have ridden here on that bike and still look like he just walked out of a London tailor?

Dr. Shit-son’s footsteps come up from behind and I hear him take a breath before speaking. “Who’s here?” he grunts.

Why he’s questioning who’s here when he’s the one that said we were waiting for his investors to come is just another in a long line of questions rolling around in my head right now. “Tell them we’re…Who’s this?”

The wall of man perfection hands me the bag and sidesteps around to extend a hand to Dr. Stinson.

“My name’s Thorne. I own The Sweet Spot where this lovely young lady picked up your order this morning.”

Owner?

As he holds his hand out and steps closer to Stinson, I see a shift in his eyes. They are not just blue, they are glowing, shocking blue. But they darken as he looks at Stinson, and he takes a long sniff before dropping his hand. The handshake offer is apparently off the table.

“I’m also her date this evening.” Man perfection stands up straight, staring down Stinson and daring him to speak.

Date?

“You ready to go?” Thorne eases a step back, looks down at me and licks his lips with a twinkle in his eyes. My own sort of sparkly twinges are growing between my legs. “You said to pick you up when I got out of the shop. So let’s go.” His eyes so warm until he shifts them back to Stinson with a look that shakes me down to my toes.

Out of the corner of my eye I see Stinson instinctively step back. This man, whoever he is, is dressed as impeccably as any fortune 500 CEO, yet he has brilliant colored ink crawling up his neck just above his white shirt collar. It extends down to his elegant long fingers and the backs of his hands, too. The energy he’s projecting right now has me absolutely terrified and at the same time wishing I could tuck myself under his arm and never leave.

I’m still processing what he’s just said when the look he’s giving Stinson shifts. His eyes regain the blue sparkle as he looks back down at me, leaning over just slightly, and the scent of what can only be sex appeal and dominance has me drawn into his force field. “Ready?” He winks at me and I think I just died. “Come on, babe. You know I’m greedy when it comes to my time with you.”

He smiles this time toward Stinson as I walk backward toward my desk. I don’t even hesitate. I just grab my purse and shrug inwardly. I am either incredibly foolish or incredibly lucky. But either way, there are some opportunities that are just worth the risk.

“I’m ready,” I announce and give Stinson an extra grin. “Sorry. I totally forgot I had plans tonight.”

When the magnificent, tattooed James Bond places his hand in the small of my back and opens the door for me, I’m placing all my bets on the lucky side of that equation.

FOUR

THORNE

When Lucy steppedin the back door at the shop at six o’clock I was losing my fucking mind. By 6:01, I was outside and on my bike with a bag of donuts, heading to the dental clinic. It was easy to find, one Google search and a couple miles and there she was.

Now I’ve got her in front of me, fitting her beautiful head with a helmet as she stands there letting me do it, and my balls are begging for release.

“Thank you.” She pulls her lips to the side as she volleys a weak protest. “But you don’t really have to take me anywhere. I’ll just walk to the bus stop—I can get the 7:20.” She raises her arm to point back toward the shop where the bus stop anchors the corner there.

I stifle a chuckle. No way, my little bird. If she thinks I’m letting her go anywhere without me, she’s the one who’s lost her mind. She’s never getting away, I know that for sure. Rational thought has left me and what’s in its place is pure instinct. Gut. Plain and simple.

And I always follow my gut. The times when I haven’t, that’s when my life’s gotten fucked up.

“Okay, tell me the truth. You want to get on the back of this bike with me? Or you want to take the bus?”

“I don’t even know you.” Her lips fight a grin and she juts one hip out.

I’m grinning because I can tell she only said what she thought she should say. Anyway, it wasn’t a ‘no,’ it was just a statement of fact. I can work with that.

She looks so fucking cute with the black helmet on, the tightness of the strap under her chin only accentuating the cherub roundness of her face. Her lips are as perfect as any fantasy I could have conjured. The dark waves of her hair splitting down the front and back of her shoulders as she clutches her purse to her ample chest.

I ponder her comment for another moment as I decide the steps I’m going to take to bring her to me in every way. She’s mine and nothing makes more sense than to convince her of that fact right now.

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