Page 2 of Torqued Off

Do women hit a wall with their libido?

I’m so inside my head that when I round the corner that I don’t see him, until I my eyeballs are plastered to his barrel chest.

“Ummph,” I mumble against him. “Shhhiiit.”

“Hello to you, too,” his rumbling voice sends a zip and zing through my body, landing squarely where it tingles most.

I back away quickly, my fingers scrambling across his midsection and brushing over what’s below his belt.

Holy fuck!

I mumble, “Hey…Hi…”Shit, get it together. It’s just a guy, not an alien.

I’ve never been one who can’t speak to men…or women. It’s my superpower.

But this man is kryptonite.

And that’s why I need to keep moving on.

I slide to the side and he does the same. Our backs pressed up against the walls.

And then we just stare at each other. Our eyes locked. My chest burning. My fingers remembering every bulge and bump they explored of their own volition.

At least that’s what I’m telling myself.

He’s a stunning example of a man. Hulking. Mohawked. Tatted to the hilt. I’ve seen him before from afar, and thought he was attractive, but up close, I see he’s in possession of the most brilliant hazel eyes I’ve ever seen. They’re a combination of green and gold and copper and just a touch of sapphire blue, a combination creating a cosmos of swirling heavens.

My mouth opens in a small pant.

“You okay?” he asks softer than I expected and it pulls me from my gaping.

Stop it! You’re not a feline in heat.

“Yeah, just…fine.” I have to swallow between words to wet my mouth.

The absence of anything between my legs—other than my B.O.B.—has me on high alert, but this is like I’m caught in a dick-tractor beam. I don’t have to imagine that the man is packing some meat that would make me rocket into the skies. I felt it. It’s a goddamn surface-to-surface guided missile.

He steps closer. “You sure?” His knuckles rock along my cheek and I flinch for the briefest of moments and then steady myself. “Who hurt you?”

And that snaps me out of my libido-coma.

“And why would that be any business of yours?” I cross my arms, making him back up.

“You’re right, it’s not. But I’ve seen that move before and I want to know whose ass I need to kick for you.”

I roll my eyes. “How very chivalrous of you. But I can kick ass myself.”

“I bet you can.” He chuckles. “But I’m at your service, Bree.”

Service? I’d like to be serviced in one or more ways.

My mouth dries again when he says my name. “How do you know my name?”

“I’ve asked around.”

He asked around?

Now, that can be good and that can be bad. Some men are a little…intimidated…might be the right word…with my sexual prowess and insatiable appetite for hard…long…girthy…

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