Page 124 of Outlaws of Tulsa

I’d loved the way his heavy body pressed into me, pinning me like I belonged to him. His rough, yet reverent touches sent me spiraling. It woke something up inside me that’s better off sleeping. I have no business getting turned on by a man like Copper.

He fucking spanked me.

I’m burning with rage over that fact, but even more angry because I liked it. I liked how after, he held me down and made me come. The soft, sweet way he brushed a kiss over my lips.

Unlike the men before, Copper feels. He’s not a cold bastard like the rest. I’m not a body to sink his dick into. No, Jeremy fucking Koynakov is affected by me and isn’t afraid to act upon it. He’s no gentleman like I’d originally thought.

I need to get my head out of the bedroom and into the game. There’s no way I can outsmart someone like Copper—an equal as far as occupation and personality go—if I’m swooning over him.

Yuck.

I hate that motherfucker.

Those thoughts fade away like the steam from my bath when he returns. This time, he’s changed into a pair of gray sweatpants that hang low on his hips, revealing cut V muscles on his bare torso that even someone like Dragon can’t achieve. Some men were born with good genes and Copper grabbed every single damn one up. Tattoos cover his chest and arms, but it’s the smattering of chest hair between his pecks and the dark trail leading below his waistband that have me damn near drooling.

I’ve seen all of the Royal Bastards in some various state of undress having had to live with them for so long, but Copper was always elsewhere. When he did visit, he was fully dressed. I’ve never seen him like this. It chases away all my resolve. All I can do is stare at the way his abdominal muscles flex and tighten with each step.

“Ready to talk?” His brows are furrowed as he places his hands on his tapered hips, once again drawing my attention to his delicious V. The cock that had been rubbing against me is visible beneath the fabric of his sweats—thick and long, even when not hard.

“I’m thirsty,” I blurt out, unable to keep from licking my lips or even looking away from his stupid tempting cock.

“Unbelievable.”

He stalks out of the bathroom, taking all my crazed hormonal need with him. I gulp in a lungful of air, swiping through the sweat on my brow from the hot bath. My body thrums with need, but I’ll be damned if I ever ask Copper to fulfil that need.

I try to think about the way I felt with Filter. It was always just sex. Good sex, but almost robotic. The emotions were never there for either of us. Filter kept his guard up and me essentially out, and he was always a means to an end for me. So, yes, we orgasmed plenty, but he never truly looked at me—seeing all the parts of me both good and bad.

Copper, when he had me trapped beneath him on the bed, saw it all. He saw me at my worst. In the slaughterhouse when I fucked it all up. When I broke down in front of the dogs. How pitiful I was in the forest, injured and freezing. And, finally, when I came from his touch.

I’ve always prided myself on being strong and unstoppable—like a storm. With him, I feel like a soft breeze, barely blowing through a field of wildflowers. Weak and uneventful. I’m nearly in tears of self-defeat when he returns. As soon as I see the bottle of icy cold vodka, I perk up. He unscrews the lid and offers me the bottle. My fingers brush against his strong ones. I yank the bottle back, trying not to be affected by his touch.

He rolls up one leg of his sweats and sits on one corner of the tub. His foot sinks into the hot, bubbly water beside me. A thrill shoots through me when it brushes against my hip. I don’t move away from it like an idiot and revel in the way my nipples harden. Like we’re lovers and we actually like one another, his foot caresses me in an absent way.

In another world, I could have been with someone like Copper. Had we met on the job and gotten to work together I know I would have fallen head over heels for the confident, sexy older man. I have no doubt he was good to Krista when they were married. And seeing how he looks at Nees, I know he was a good father too.

But this is our fucked-up world.

We didn’t meet taking down bad guys together. We met becausehe’sthe bad guy and I’m trying to take him down alone. Another twist in my crazy-ass life. It shouldn’t be a surprise considering the life I’ve lived. Though it’s not a surprise, it still sucks. I can’t ever catch a break.

Blinking back bitter tears, I swallow down the cold, burning liquid, seeking out the oblivion it offers.

He leans toward me, his bicep flexing in a way that makes me want to lick it, and takes the cold bottle from my grip. I shamelessly watch as his full lips part and wrap around the bottle. He tips his head back and swallows. My gaze fixates on the way his Adam’s apple bobs. I wouldn’t mind licking him there too. Dragging my stare from his throat, I run it down along his firm pecks and back to his abs that may as well be cut from stone they’re so hard.

A smirk tugs at his handsome mouth when he catches me staring. My face burns with embarrassment and I look away. His chuckle annoys me, but he hands me the bottle back, so I forgive him. I manage two long pulls from the bottle, loving the way the alcohol burns through my veins, numbing me from the inside out.

“Talk, little storm.” His toes rub along my ribs, making me squirm, and I shoot him a death glare. He lifts a brow. “Ticklish?”

“Fuck off, Copper.”

All playfulness fades and he scowls. “I’m tired of your shit. Talk to me.”

I let out a heavy sigh and shrug. “Vidal was cute. Hispanic. Dressed well. Charming. Collins was the older of the two men. Maybe your age. Salt and pepper hair but fit. Handsome. He was different than Vidal. There was a cold, calculating glint in his gray eyes. Like everything he does is with purpose.”

“You remember where the building was?”

“Downtown. Right at Second and Detroit. Not the nicest building but certainly not the worst. It was obscure and meant to blend in.”

“Any signs you can remember?”

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