Page 15 of That Girl is Trouble

His voice is hopeful. Men like that. Fantasizing that maybe they’re my first—that no other hands have glided over my thighs, that I haven’t taken my clothes off, night after night, for strangers with money to burn and time to waste.

I’m not sure why they like it. But I’m happy to play into it.

“Um,” I say, dropping my eyes.

“It’s okay,” he coos.

I’ve got him. Another idiot buying into what I’m selling. A poor girl, pushed into the life—inexperienced, unsure, waiting for a strong man to show her what to do. Sometimes, when I play the game right, I barely have to take my clothes off. And that’s even more thrilling—getting one of them to pay up while I sit here and play shy.

Tonight looks like it’ll work out that way. Maybe he’ll add a few more songs. We’ll sit here together, and he’ll show me how to move my hips. He’ll tell me how sweet I am, that I don’t have to do this, that he can rescue me.

They always want to save me. But the thing these guys don’t know?

I live for this shit.

For the game, the thrill. For trouble. For all things wild. Everything I miss about being on Jesse’s arm, about being in Axe’s bed.

Except when the second the first song starts, I’m jerked back from the couch and pulled tight into a hard chest covered in leather.

6

“Still don’t fucking listen, do you, Kitty? Thought I said I didn’t want to see you here again?”

Axe’s voice is a low growl in my ear, the anger imbued in his tone sending a rush of goose bumps over my skin. The broad plane of his chest presses against my back, hot and heaving, and when I tip my head back, I’m staring up at a pair of dark, furious eyes that are locked on the man still seated on the leather couch.

Fucking. Axel. Donovan.

“And I said—”

“I know what you fucking said.”

“Hey, man…” Jake says, pushing up. “This is private.”

“Shut the fuck up and get out.”

“Axe,” I snap, shoving out of his grip and rounding on him. “Are you crazy? You’re gonna get me fired.”

“And what a shame that would be.” He glares at Jake, who suddenly looks small next to Axe’s large frame. “I said out.”

“I already paid—”

He grabs Jake’s collar and jerks him forward. “You know who I am?”

“I—you’re—” He takes in the leather jacket, the patch that reads Soldiers of Sin. “You’re a Sinner,” he sputters out.

“That’s right. A Sinner. Consider her services rendered. Now get the fuck out. And tell anyone I was in here, I’ll fucking kill you. You get me?”

“Yeah, all right, man. I get you.” He struggles, his voice growing strained as Axe tightens his hold around his collar. “We’re good. I’m gone.”

There’s a moment where I think he might not let go. That he might slam his fist into Jake the Jock’s face and beat him bloody. But after a very uncomfortable stare-down, he jerks Jake towards the curtain and pushes him out. Then he’s rearing his angry face back until he’s locked on mine.

And god, that face.

There’s something kind of beautiful about Axel Donovan. He’s all sharp edges and hard lines—the slant of his brows, the cut of his jaw, the angle of his nose. I swear even the curve of his mouth is an angle, always pressed into a slight frown. Always making him look just a little disappointed.

But it’s the other parts of him I find fascinating. The parts of him that aren’t so inhuman, that aren’t so sharp.

I clear my throat, itching to fill the silence that’s fallen over the small room. Axe doesn’t ease my discomfort. He lets the silence stretch, staring at me with those dark eyes, giving me the look he saves just for me. The one that tells me I’m in trouble.

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