Page 69 of City of Salvation

Torque shook his head, throwing back a shot of something amber in color. “You two are the same type of chaos. We should all beveryworried,” he said.

Dex signaled for a beer while scoffing. “Please. Nikki and I are upstanding citizens,” he threw back.

The look Torque shot him spoke volumes. These two were adorable together. They reminded me a bit of…

“Hey.” Looking around the clubhouse, I searched for someone in particular. “Where’s Gunner? Shouldn’t he be here too?”

Torque was the one to respond. “Pres told him to go talk to Ryan about what we voted on.”

“Torque,” Dex said, a warning in his voice.

“It’s not like she’s not gonna know, Dex.” The look Torque gave me had ice taking root at the base of my spine, crawling up at an achingly slow pace, so I had to endure thepain of unease. “We need Los Muertos to partner with us in our war with the Reapers.”

“War? You guys are going to attack?” The words were barely above a whisper since I didn’t know if everyone was supposed to hear this shit.

“We’re retaliating, spitfire. For what they did to us in the car. They fucking shot at you.” Dex slammed his hand down on the bar top. The bang echoed through the bar and cut through the noise. His chest was heaving against my side, and I placed a hand on him.

He lowered his voice, his arm tightening around me. “We’re going to take care of it, okay? You’re going to be safe soon.” His pupils ate away at his irises, leaving nothing but black pits that swirled with fury. He was teetering on a knife’s edge, and the next person to make a misstep might end up dead.

He needed a release.

Pain radiated from my lip as I bit down on it hard, a coppery tang filling my mouth.

“Ouch, dammit.” I prodded the damaged flesh with my finger, noting the blood when I pulled the digit away. Dex’s hand wrapped around my wrist, his hold like a damn vice grip.

“I told you biting on your lip is a bad habit,” he said, daring me to look away as he slowly brought my finger to his mouth, sucking the blood off the tip. His warm tongue swirled around, and he hollowed his cheeks before pulling off with a pop.

“God damn it, Dex. I’m fighting tonight, and now I have to go beat off or think of kicking puppies or something,” Torque grumbled from beside us.

Ignoring him, I focused all my attention on Dex. “Youneed to release all this pent-up energy,” I said, licking my lips.

He hiked up a brow. “What makes you think that?”

Because despite all my best efforts not to get close, I know you, Dex.

I didn’t share those sentiments aloud. “Lucky guess. What do you normally do to fix this?” I asked, gesturing up and down his body with my free hand since he still held my other one near his mouth.

There was a beat of silence as he studied my face, as if he wasn’t sure he wanted to tell me. His throat cleared, and I expected him to break the eye contact we’d been locked in, but he didn’t.

“I have to either fuck, fight, or torture someone,” he answered truthfully, watching for my reaction.

Something in my gut told me how I responded was important.

I leaned in as close as I could without breaking our eye contact. “And which one do you want to do, baby? Because it sounds like there are going to be fights tonight, but you also have agirlfriendwho is willing to help you with fucking out the frustration.”

There was no mistaking the hardening of his cock under my legs, and I wanted nothing more than to straddle his lap and grind down on him while tasting his delicious mouth again. But this was all dangerous fucking territory because initiating sex with Dex felt like I’d open a door to something unknown.

Should I have even offered to help him find release through sex? Maybe I could help him without us having sex?

A lightbulb went off. I could definitely do that—I did that shit every day at work as it was. The thought left a sour tastein my mouth. Why did I want to give something different to Dex than I gave anyone else?

“Hey, where did you go?” He asked, his hand cupping the back of my neck and pulling me in so our foreheads rested together.

He had a thing for holding my face, and every time, I wanted to melt because it had me feeling like a treasure. How pathetic that so little meant so much.

“You don’t need to do anything for me, okay?” he said, probably mistaking my silence as hesitation.

We were drawn in together, our faces only inches apart, making clear the conversation was for no one else’s ears. For a man who’d never had a girlfriend, he was sweet. I gave a small nod.

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