Chapter 3
CHAPTER THREE
I pat my thigh and smirk. “C’mon, Storm. Lap’s free real estate.”
She hesitates, chin tilting like she might sass me, but then slides onto my lap. Bold. Small but sharp, like holding a blade in my hands. My palms settle at her waist, fingers pressing just enough to say mine, even if we both know it’s fake.
I drop my chin to her shoulder, inhaling deep. Perfume cuts through beer and smoke. It coats my tongue, gets in my head. Goosebumps ripple down her arms.
“You always sniff women like dogs, or am I just special?” she murmurs, sass wrapped around nerves.
I chuckle against her skin, low. “Special. Don’t flatter yourself too much—I don’t sniff what I don’t wanna bite.”
She shifts, testing, and I let my cock press against her ass. She goes stiff, then relaxes, like she chooses to lean into me. Fuck.
The door opens and a guy in dark jeans and white shirt walks in. The moment she clocks him, her whole body goes rigid in my lap.
I brush my lips across her neck, casual as sin. “Relax, Storm. Boyfriend’s here.”
She exhales, shaky, presses down harder like she’s hiding in the role. Then, she grabs my jaw and kisses me first. Tongue, teeth, the kind of kiss that tastes like defiance and need all at once.
I grin into it, then break away, leaving her lips parted, chasing me. That craving look? Fuck, I’m addicted already.
“Who’s bothering you?” My thumb drags higher on her thigh.
She doesn’t answer.
“Six o’clock,” Colt mutters. “White shirt.”
I don’t even look back. “Your ex?”
She shakes her head.
“Your brother?”
She rolls her eyes. “Try a creep who can’t take no for an answer.”
My jaw tightens. “Did he hurt you?”
“Oh, please. He’s just everywhere I turn, breathing up my neck. I told him I had a boyfriend.”
I squeeze her thigh harder, voice dropping. “You sure do. For two hours, I’m all yours, Storm.”
Her lips curl into a smirk, fire flashing. “Then get rid of him, and maybe I’ll give you a bonus.”
Colt whistles. “Lucky bastard.”
I laugh, leaning in close. “You got me curious, Storm. Is your mouth as good around my cock as it is when you talk?”
She jolts, eyes widening, sass colliding with heat. “Tick tock, big boy. Who knows, you might choke on the answer.”
Fucking hell. She gives back. Not just sass—teeth. My blood roars hotter.
I throw my voice across the bar. “Hey, you!”
Everything stills. The creep freezes mid-step, eyes locking on her like she’s already in his pocket. Wrong fucking move.
“You lost?” I ask, grin sharp as a blade, “or something?”
“Or something,” he mutters, sliding his glasses off.
I lean back. “Stop glaring at my woman unless you wanna learn how dark the dirt is underground.”
A ripple of dark chuckles rolls through the bar.
He raises a hand like peace. “Relax. Just here for a beer.”
“Frost,” I call without looking.
Frost slides a bottle across the bar with a smirk. “Here, man. Twenty bucks.”
The guy blinks. “Twenty?”
“Don’t forget to tip,” Frost adds, deadpan.
I down the rest of my beer, set the bottle hard on the counter, then tip her chin back toward me. I kiss her like the world’s ending—rough, deep, claiming—while he stands there, burning holes in us. She melts into me, breathless, moaning quiet into my mouth.
When I break the kiss, I stand, lifting her off my lap like she weighs nothing. I sling an arm around her waist, steer her toward the door. As I pass him, I squeeze his shoulder hard enough to make the bottle slip in his hand.
“No one looks at my woman and breathes long enough to blink,” I murmur, voice dark. “Take it as free advice.”
Outside, the air’s cold and sharp. She leans on her little red Fiat, coat undone, cheeks flushed, lips swollen from my kiss. I look at the car, bark out a laugh.
“That’s your ride? What are you, five?”
Her chin jerks up, sass crackling. “Don’t knock the Fiat. It gets me places. Probably faster than your dinosaur of a bike.”
I stalk closer, trap her against the car, hands braced on either side of her. My mouth grazes her ear, voice rough. “Careful, Storm. You keep flappin’ that bratty mouth, I’ll find new ways to shut it.”
Her breath hitches, but her eyes stay locked on mine. “Maybe I like the sound of that.”
Fuck me. She means it.
“You don’t play fair, do you?” I murmur, dragging a finger down her throat, slow enough to make her swallow hard.
She grins, sharp, daring. “Why should I? You don’t.”
It hits me then—she’s not just reacting. She’s feeding it, giving back every ounce of heat I dish out. Not like the others who burn bright and fade. This one? She makes me greedy.
I lean closer, lips brushing hers but not kissing. “You’re trouble.”
“Damn right,” she whispers. “And you look like a man who likes trouble.”
My laugh is raw, hungry, already planning the ruin. “Storm, you have no idea.”