Page 38 of Outlaws of Tulsa

I settle for agitated and focus on his full, pink lips and the dark facial hair that’s grown in some along his jaw. From beneath his arm, I see the mottled scarring on his face. I’m curious as to how he came to get a giant “X” permanently gouged into his skin. It’s creepy, but also kind of sad. Stormy said his family was murdered. Did they try and murder him too?

I notice the moment he wakes because he tenses. His arm remains over his eyes, but I can feel him taking in his surroundings. He doesn’t speak. Just continues to hide as though he didn’t crawl into my bed last night. To test him, I brush my fingertips between his pecks, marveling in the way his nipples harden, before walking my fingers down the groove between his abs right toward his—

“Stop,” he growls, his hand gripping my wrist almost painfully.

“Stop what?”

“Whatever the fuck you were about to do.”

His arm slides away just so he can glower at me. In the morning light, he seems extra grumpy.

“Jack you off,” I taunt.

He clenches his jaw. “I need a smoke.”

Rolling away from me, he gives me a prime view of his muscular back and tight ass. For being an old guy, he’s fit as hell. Even Junior wasn’t cut like this. I don’t miss the semi he’s sporting in his boxers and stare unabashedly until he disappears from the room.

Now that he’s gone, the bed feels cold again.

Lonely.

Whatever.

I jump out of bed and stalk over to the shower to wash his manly scent off me.

Fucker.

“I’m bored.”

Stormy sits back, recaps her mascara, and frowns. “What do you want to do?”

“I don’t know,” I grumble. “Not this. Not while they have their closed door meetings and we do nothing.”

“Want to watch a movie?”

“Ugh, no. I want to…explore.”

She shakes her head. “Not gonna happen.”

“Why not?”

“Because you’ll run away.”

I roll my eyes and let out a huff. “I’ll die of boredom before I could ever even dream of leaving.”

“We could go swimming,” she offers.

“It’s November, dummy.”

“The pool’s heated, asshole.”

“Skinny-dipping?”

“Hell no, PG. I’d get shot for allowing that to happen.”

“For a biker bitch, you’re awfully conservative.”

She flinches at my words but then laughs. “My bikinis sure as hell aren’t conservative.” She digs around in her drawer before producing two. “White for the innocent, virginal young bitch. And black for the queen.”

---