Page 85 of That Girl is Trouble

“The Slam,” I repeat, my memory jogging.

All the shit leading up to that night is a blur. It had been months since I’d dared to set foot inside the clubhouse. I didn’t want to think about any of it. Jesse, the blood, pale skin, eyes open. Axe, that night in his bed, when I asked him to make me forget. And after, in the church. His cold, biting words.

I’d distanced myself from the club, but with that distance came this… emptiness. That night, I needed to feel something. Excitement running through my veins. The kind of shit that makes my heart pump and my skin buzz. Nothing could have kept me away. Not even Axel Donovan.

I hadn’t intended to volunteer as the tournament prize. It just kind of happened. One minute I was flirting with a big biker twice my age, and the next, I was being thrown over his shoulder after agreeing to… well, I knew what I was agreeing to. The Sinner Slam honey pot isn’t just a prize. It’s a promise. Of pussy, mostly. Still don’t know what the hell I was thinking.

“Maybe it’s a good thing you don’t remember,” Rooster says as he huffs out a small laugh. “Took a pretty big hit. Would hate you seeing me like that, girl as pretty as you.”

I grin, my face heating. “I remember. You won almost every fight.”

He chuckles. “Yeah, except the one that mattered. Let me take you out,” he says again. “Been working myself up all night trying to figure out how to talk to you.” When I don’t answer him, he says. “Girls say I’m sweet.”

I lean back against the bar, and Rooster shuffles with me, the distance between us near closing, the subtle scent of his cologne drifting into my nostrils. It’s clean, fresh like Irish Spring. “Maybe I don’t like sweet.”

“Okay. Then girls say I’m a real dick.”

I laugh. “Well, maybe I don’t like that either.”

“Then what do you like?” He drags a finger down the drawstring of my hoodie, but as he slides his hand lightly around my bare waist, the skin at the back of my neck prickles, and I scan the room, searching.

A heavy stare. The feeling of being watched. I don’t have to guess who’s got his sights on me.

Axe’s eyes are a storm of fury and possession. Jaw set, muscles tense, fists clenched. His focus is on the hand at my waist, on Rooster, who keeps inching closer. But behind the anger, there’s a dare. It’s swimming in his hard eyes. It’s the game we’ve always played, pushing, testing. The caveat? When Axe issues a challenge, there’s always this underlying threat. Fuck around and find out. I always want to find out.

“Come on,” Rooster says, that dimple on his cheek deepening. “You got a boyfriend or something?”

Heat builds under my skin, my heart dancing in my chest, Axe’s eyes on me setting my nerves on fire. “I—well, no… not exactly,” I stutter.

Rooster drops his lips to my ear. He whispers something, but I can’t make it out. I’m too focused on him, on the beat of my heart that’s gotten too loud.

Axe cocks a brow, a dangerous smirk curling up at the edge of his lips, and a well of heat pools between my legs.

Rooster wants to know what I like? This. A man who can get my heart beating just by looking at me. A man who can make me wet from across the fucking room.

I clear my throat and step back. “Let me think on it.”

“Breakin’ my damn heart, Kitty Kat,” Rooster says, though his smile doesn’t falter. He lifts my chin with two fingers, rubbing his thumb over my skin gently. It’s careful, nice, sweet. “I’ll be finding you later.”

Rooster releases me and heads back across the clubhouse. I’m mildly aware of the pitcher of beer Moxy drops in front of me, but it’s impossible to concentrate when Axe is looking at me like that. I need to cool my skin, quiet my heart.

Abandoning the pitcher, I take off towards the back exit and push into the stairwell. Air. I need outside air. I’m about halfway to the exterior door when the heavy one behind me clicks open. I freeze. It’s him. I can feel him. Taste that indignation. My heart kicks up another notch.

He only stops when his body is pressed into mine. “Kitty,” he growls out, his voice a thrum on my bones.

“Axe,” I rasp.

He weaves his fingers into my hair, thrusting my head back, forcing me to look at him. A whimper escapes my mouth, and he smiles. This. This is what I want. A little pain. A little hurt.

Pulling me taut to his chest, he slides his hand down my stomach and into the waistband of my jeans. He doesn’t stop until he’s slipped into my panties. He dips between my legs, his whole body tensing at what he finds. “Fuck,” he murmurs, his grip on my hair tightening, making my scalp tingle from the delicious pain. “This better be for me and not the kid who’s been eye-fucking you all night.”

I scoff out a laugh. “And how the hell would you know who’s been doing what all night? You only just got here.”

“I always know what you’re doing, Kat. Answer my fucking question,” he snarls. “Who’s got your cunt all wet like this?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

He laughs darkly and rips his hand from my pants, jerking his head to the wooden door ahead of us that leads to where Moxy keeps enough of a supply of liquor to keep a few dozen Sinners hydrated on the regular.

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