Page 19 of False Start

Slow and intense, he might as well have reached out with a finger and danced it over every single sensitive place on the points in between.

I wanted to cross my arms, but I wouldn’t. Fuck him. I wouldn’t let him put me on the defensive. He was the one with the tattered reputation in this town. I just needed to make sure he didn’t taint mine while he was back here doing whatever the hell he was doing.

“Why do you even care?”

“Hell if I know. Come on.” He took my arm, the heat from his palm reaching through the thin cotton to my skin.

The rough way his fingers curled around me should have pissed me off. I should have yanked my arm away, but no. After the way he eye-fucked me before, my inner lusty bitch betrayed me and leaned into the pressure while wondering what it would be like to feel the same grip on my hips, my breasts, the inside of my thigh—he was too close. Too much.

Too fucking much.

Letting me go, he tossed his jacket over the cold metal and wrapped it around the railing three times before taking both of my arms. One step at a time, eyes on mine, he backed me right up to the worn leather. The clean scent of his morning shower teased my nose and despite the heap of reasons it was the worst possible thing to do, I caught myself leaning in for more.

“What are you doing?” he asked, giving me a hard look, a whole lot like the one he shot me the night before while I was stuck to the concrete.

“Just waiting for you to show off your skills so I can get back to work. You think you can hurry it up? I don’t want to clean up bloodshed in there. Scooter doesn’t pay me enough for that.”

“I’d love to. Now, lean back,” he said, lining me up with his jacket. “Does that feel like it’s hitting the spot?”

I rocked back and forth. “Ummm, maybe?”

He cocked his head and blew out a breath. “You don’t know?”

“Well, it’s hard to te—hey!”

Stepping into me, invading every last inch of my space, he reached around, his palm landing on my lower back. “I’ll work my way up, you tell me when I find it,” he said, his voice full of impatience and vibrating against my temple.

Thank fuck he wasn’t looking me in the eye right now because my body had decided to take complete leave of all sense and zero in on the heat radiating from him, the pressure making tracks along the edge of my spine, and the sound of his breath way too close to my ear.

All I had to do was remember the way he owned that chair last night, sitting like a man giving zero fucks, spoiling for a fight. Abrasiveness rolling off him like the rumble of a Harley roaring to life.

Flaming asshole, flaming asshole, flaming asshole.

“Ow!” I hopped away from the pain, my back arching, but with Priest wrapped around me, it meant practically climbing into him.

Chest to chest, hip to hip, the force making him wobble back enough he darted his hand out and curled it around my waist.

“Easy,” he said, his voice low and gravelly. “Now move with me. I’m going to line you up. Good, right there.”

Everything he said, the rumble of his deep words, his grip on me—washed over me. Directions in a voice coated with sex, igniting dirty fantasies, making me want to suck the lingering scent of black coffee on his breath straight from his mouth.

I’d lost all ability to say anything. The deep breaths necessary to form words meant my breasts pressing harder into his chest. With the way my body betrayed my simmering rage at the fucker, my nipples would be carving our initials over his heart in three seconds flat if I let them.

With his feet turned slightly out so the tips of my toes rested against his instep, his hands dropped to my palms, his fingers curling around mine and bringing them to my chest.

“Cross and keep your fingertips on your shoulders.”

“Is this going to hurt?” You know, besides the painful throb of my clit screaming at me to grind against him. My mother had a thing for assholes, and it looked like I might have inherited that quirk of the DNA.

“Not at all.”

“You’re fucking lying to me, aren’t you?”

“Language,” he warned, the corner of his mouth tipping into a grin.

Don’t fall for it. Flaming asshole, flaming asshole, flaming asshole.

My new mantra on repeat, it echoed a reminder to my lusty areas to sit the fuck down already. I had a date with my vibrator tonight. I hope he had a safe word. He was so going to need it.

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