Page 14 of Taming the Bad Boy

Hot.

“Maybe I am.” I tilt my eyes so he knows I’m teasing. “Or maybe I just wanted to see how long you’d let him hit on me before you did something.”

Slate arches an eyebrow, a sly smile twisting across his lips. “You sassy little–”

Before he can finish, a stern voice cuts through the air.

“Slate.”

I know before I look.

Saxon, the leader of the Bastards. He’s glaring at us from a few feet away, his eyes hard and lips thin. He’s clearly pissed.

I know there’s a long history between these two, but I don’t know the details. But when Slate sighs and lets go of my arm, I can tell that this is not a conversation he’s looking forward to having.

“My office,” Slate says. “Now.”

Slate turns to me and whispers, “Be right back.” He smiles with his eyes. “Don’t let me catch you with anyone else. Understand?”

I smirk, fighting the urge to plant a kiss on his lips. “Gotcha.”

My stomach twists as I watch as he and Saxon walk to the office. It doesn’t take a fortune teller to figure out what this is about.

Me.

I knew it was a mistake to come here tonight. I tried to resist, but neither of us wanted to be away from the other, so we decided I’d just show up as Slate’s guest and do some mingling.

My encounter with Zane put an end to that plan.

I know I should stay where I am–try to just blend in and avoid any more conversations–but I can see Saxon and Slate through the office window, and I just can’t help myself.

I creep over, doing my best to look like I’m just walking casually, interested in the patches hanging from the wall. When I get closer, I can hear their voices through the thin wall.

“What did I say, Slate?” Saxon asks, clearly not happy. “Ivy isoff-limits!”

My heart leaps. My pulse skyrockets. Slate doesn’t respond right away. The tension is like a knife sliding down my back.

“She’s not a child, Sax,” he finally replies, his voice steady and calm. “She can make her own decisions.”

“She’s Frank Calloway’s daughter!” Saxon snaps. “Frank works with us because he trusts us. You screw with her, you screw us all over, Slate.”

Silence. Then Slate, his voice like hot steel. “I’m not screwing with her, Saxon.”

“No? What are you doing then?”

A second pause. Longer this time.

The tension is so high I feel like I’m going to pass out.

“I love her, Saxon.” Slate’s words send a shiver through me, and I have to brace myself against a chair to keep from falling to my knees. “She’s mine.”

I wasnotexpecting that. I mean, I had my suspicions, and I was hoping to hear it one day. But directly from him. And not so soon.

He really feels that way about me?

I don’t know why I’m having such a hard time with this. Maybe it’s because deep down, I know I feel the same way about him.

When Slate’s gone, it’s like the world is somehow duller. Like it’s lost its intensity. Its vibrancy. And all I can think about is seeing him again. This big, brawny, biker man completes me.

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