Page 38 of Beautiful Defiance

“Crap.”

“Better, thank you.”

“Back to the foreplay.”

“Back to the driving.”

We spoke at the same time. He smiles. I do too. The thick tension in the room fades.

“You first,” I say.

“I’ll table the foreplay for now, but one of these days, I’ll save your life again, and that’s what I’ll be asking for—a taste of you.”

Seven’s mouth on mine? His tongue circling my nipples? His dark head of hair between my legs? I haven’t been properly kissed on the mouth, but I’m not clueless or a prude. I watch porn. I touch myself. To have someone . . . No, not “someone,” but to have Seven touch and taste me . . . My panties dampen. I bite down on the moan lodged in my throat.

It’s a bad idea, having these sinful thoughts. And the mental images . . . The temptation to offer my body to him is as close as on the tip of my tongue, the word “yes” like an aphrodisiac. I slide away from his sculpted shoulders, the patch of chest hair, and the sinful strip of hair disappearing below the waistband of his boxers. He must be feeling my heat too. He scoots closer to the edge of the bed and slides back under the covers.

“The driving, Leigh?”

“Not your problem. I’ll figure it out. It’s not like I have a car, though jacking Malice’s GT-R would get him indebted to me.”

“You will not steal his baby. And you won’t ever get in a situation where you owe him, Leigh. When a Sterling digs their claws in you and claim you as theirs, you’re done for. Them Sterlings are a possessive, jealous bunch. Promise me?”

“I’ve dealt with guys worse than him. Case in point, there’s you.”

“Ha-ha. Not. Promise, Leigh?”

“Fine.”

“Pinky swear.”

“Seven.”

“Come on, give it to Daddy, right here.”

He gets all up in my personal space and points at the corner of his mouth.

“I will, but don’t refer to yourself as ‘Daddy’ or ever make me call you that.”

“Too pervy?”

“God, yes.”

He laughs. I drop a quick kiss on the corner of his mouth. He lingers on mine, his arm curving over my hip in this possessive but gentle way.

“Seven, we should call it a night. Or more like morning. I’m working tomorrow.”

“Where at?”

“I start my new job at Queenie’s Diner.”

“You working for Miles Sinclair’s family?”

“Yes. Miles is nice. Made sure to give me my own blender so strawberry chunks don’t get into it and I go into anaphylactic shock.”

“Your allergy is that bad?”

“Packing double EpiPen bad.”

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