Page 238 of Outlaws of Tulsa

“Yes.” Cove’s tone is icy and filled with fury. At me. I don’t give a fuck. “Take a walk with me.”

I pull away from Bizzy, giving him a fiery warning glare that I hope he remembers next time he decides to open his stupid mouth.

Whirling around, I stalk my prey. Cove’s face is bright red from humiliation, but he’ll get over it. I prowl toward him, my heart rate skipping beats as he slowly tries to escape me.

There is no escape.

He unleashed the dragon. There’s no putting him back inside his cage.

“Cove,” Copper mutters. “Let’s talk later.”

Cove nods, swallowing hard. He walks backward out of the conference room, eyes locked on mine. I match him step for step, but growing closer to him with each one because of having longer legs. He’s nearly in the kitchen when I finally catch up. The conference door slams shut behind us. Koyn is probably pissed, but he’ll get over it. Maybe he can punish Bizzy for once in his fucking life for being a dumbass.

“Hungry?” Cove asks, his voice tight.

“Fucking ravenous.”

His face sours. “Not for me.”

A wicked grin curls my lips up. “Then no.”

He rolls his eyes and turns to walk into the kitchen. Big mistake. You don’t turn your back on the predator. I grab his shoulders, pressing his body against the stainless-steel refrigerator, and rub my erection against his ass. My lips find his ear and I nip at the lobe.

“You going to feed me?”

“Dragon, I barely want to talk to you after the shit you just pulled.”

Despite his furious words, his breathing becomes ragged and he writhes in my arms, rubbing against my cock. I suck on his neck just below his ear.

“Shouldn’t have given me a taste, Baby Prospect. Now I’m addicted.”

“You’re fucking crazy is what you are. Dick drunk.”

A laugh bubbles out of me. “Dick drunk, hmm?”

“Completely wasted.” He sighs. “Let me go.”

“I can’t.”

His body loses some of the tension and he melts in my arms. “How about a truce?”

“Mmm?”

“Let me cook you something to eat. After, we can, uh, go back to my room to, uh, blow off some of this steam.”

“How domestic of you, wifey.”

“See, you really piss me off when you say shit like that.”

“I think it gets you off to be mad at me.”

He doesn’t answer, which is the only answer I need. It’s true. Cove, despite his bitchy behavior, enjoys my touch and words and the pleasure I offer. Feeling is fucking mutual. Minus the bitchy behavior on my part.

I pull back and smack his tight jean-covered ass. “Make me breakfast, lover.”

“I fucking hate you. You know that?”

“I think, for you, Baby Prospect, hate is synonymous with love.”

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