Page 31 of The Kings of Kearny

I blinked. “Huh?”

“In the outfit,” he clarified, stepping closer. His massive frame momentarily blocked out the nearby streetlight, dropping us into deep shadow. “You might have looked like a church mouse, but you were a highly fuckable one.”

My mouth popped open in surprise.

Jakob leaned down like he was going to kiss me but came to a shuddering standstill an inch away from my lips, like he’d stopped himself for some reason.

Fuck that.

I grabbed his jacket and pulled.

Our mouths collided.

My back hit the car door.

Jakob’s big body shoved against mine.

I let his jacket go and wrapped my arms around his neck, squeezing hard enough to pull him flat against me. Any tighter and I’d be choking him. One of his hands fisted into my hair and held me in place. His mouth bruised mine. I bit his lip and tasted copper on my tongue. I didn’t know if we were about to fuck or fight.

Jakob broke away suddenly, pushing off the car, and I was forced to let him go before I face-planted onto the pavement. I swayed where I stood, head spinning from lack of oxygen. Damn it, I forgot to breathe while he’d been kissing me.

His chest heaved like he’d forgotten to breathe too. “Call me tomorrow after you hear from Perez?”

I didn’t trust my voice to answer, didn’t trust myself not to invite him up, so I just nodded.

He stood there another minute, gaze raking over me, shoulders held in a stiff line like he was fighting some sort of internal battle. I was half-afraid that if he came at me again, I would tackle him and we’d end up fucking in my car in a well-lit parking lot where anyone might see us.

I opened my mouth.

“Tomorrow,” he said and turned away. With his voice gone low like that, it came out sounding like some sort of sinful threat.

Chapter Nine

Iwoke to the soundof my phone ringing. I’d been having a strangely lucid dream about paddling around a swimming pool filled with Grand Marnier with my childhood best friend while Mr. Rogers read us a Stephen King novel. The dream unraveled as I glanced at my bedside clock. It was nine in the morning. At least I’d gotten a few good hours of sleep.

I didn’t recognize the number on my phone, but it was local, and knowing Dr. Perez might be calling today, I answered. “Hello?”

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