Page 72 of Roses Are Dead
KC balled up his fists.
He didn’t pull his punch, but it barely glanced off my face. He stepped back, waiting to see what I’d do. I motioned for him to come closer.
A shake of the head. “Gotta catch me.” His cocky grin was too cute.
I faked a right and while he twisted to block it, I came in with my left. His core was wide open, but I aimed higher. His arm managed to fling into place, giving just a modicum of resistance. I held my knuckles against his temple, proving that if I hadn’t pulled the punch, he’d be dead.
“Consider yourself caught.” I smiled and tapped his eyebrow. Then, with my other hand, I socked him right in the name patch where Wolf and Coop had nailed him.
He doubled over, wheezing. “Fuck, that hurts.”
I helped him stand straight. “You good?”
He grinned as he panted. “When Griz and Hollywood get back, do they get shots at me?”
As much as being the bearer of bad news sucked, I let him down as gently as I could. “That’s the rules.”
He groaned, stretched, and looked around. His sights landed on one of the girls who wasn’t claimed. “You.”
She giggled and shot forward.
Wolf slapped him on the back as he slipped upstairs.
My private reserve came down from the top shelf.
I glanced at Rose, checking if she was going to throw a fit. Her mouth twisted into a half frown. She lifted her fingers and quietly asked for two glasses.
I tugged her close. The shot glasses were clean, the liquor straight out of the bottle and I poured both. As I lifted the glass, I spoke quietly so no one else except Rose heard me. “Remember last night?”
Her eyes widened. “I doubt you do.”
“I owe you a debt.” I tapped my glass against hers. “Anything you want tonight. Anything.”
Her gaze didn’t stray from the laser lock she had on my eyes. I drank the shot down, and she followed suit, barely lifting her chin to let the whiskey slide down her throat.
I kissed her. If only to taste the liquor on her lips.
Her breath was heavy when I finally let her go.
“Anything?”
“That’s a vow.”
17
Roishin
Vow or promise, we were finally alone. The raw desire to touch my skin against his skin burned brighter now that we didn’t have an audience. We left my coat, boots, and both of our shirts just inside the door. The jeans I’d been in for almost two days stayed on as I sashayed up the stairs with the hastily-wrapped bag of money in my hand.
I was tempted to break open the stacks and drop the Benjamins like bread crumbs. Instead, I laid the bag on Bear’s dresser before tugging off the pants that clung to me like leeches.
My struggling caught his attention. His low laughter was at my expense.
“Getting rained on sucks.” It didn’t, really. I’d been almost too warm later in the day. And the leather chaps kept the wind at bay much better than my clothing ever would. But the moisture and ride made the exposed denim stick in place.
He picked me up and tossed me on the bed. “Lift.” He pulled my leg toward him and tugged.
The material let loose, and he got one leg free. The other side released much easier, and I could finally breathe freely. I panted and let the cool air of his house dry my skin. “I need a shower.” A hot one. And maybe a soak in the tub.
