CHAPTER 40
“Bee” Betty
Son of a crusty biscuit.
What a cheesy motherfucker. Walking out of the shadows, slow clapping.
But, he looked dangerously sexy doing it. I had to admit; it was working for me.
My lady parts quivered at the sight of him. He wore a hat on his head; the bill shadowing his face but for that fucking smirk across his rough-shaven jaw. His hair was messy, mid-length, and tucked behind his ears. Jesus, he looked like a vengeful god, and I just—
No.
I couldn’t.
My eyes trailed down over his dark Henley shirt, sleeves pushed up to his elbows exposing smooth corded forearms streaked with raised veins.
That stupid shirt looked perfect stretched over his chest; it was criminal.
And his jeans, with that fucking bulge at the zipper.
The long shadows and dim lighting stressed every part of him I knew way too well.
No.
Hell the fuck, no.
I reached for my taser.
Grayson clicked his tongue. “Buttercup, no need for that.”
His voice—shit, it was beautiful, tinged with a slight Italian accent. It disarmed me. Every. Single. Time.
Shivers rattled down my spine, but I pressed my chin up, holding my ground, activating the taser anyway.
I could hear Nash growling behind me like a feral raccoon. Why was he so good at that?
I flicked my hand at him to stop.
Nash was taller than Grayson, but Grayson was bulkier, and scrappy. Where Nash had formal finesse, Grayson had street sense and the innate will to survive. You didn’t excommunicate yourself from the mob if you weren’t capable of surviving it.
Stopping ten feet from us, he spread his large booted feet apart shoulder-width and crossed his arms, further accentuating his mouth-watering upper body strength. He didn’t seem at all bothered or worried by us.
“Is this your idea of flirting?” I teased, letting my voice hold a sumptuous, intimate caress. A flutter of femininity in his otherwise masculine-drenched presence.
A deep sound rumbled from his chest, and he hummed. “You’re here, aren’t you? I knew you wouldn’t be able to stay away.”
I scoffed, swinging my hips once from side to side in a slow figure-eight. He seemed to enjoy that, eyes fixed on the motion. “100-million dollars will do that to a woman.”
“Are you stalking me now? I could get used to this.” His head tilted, exposing more of his tanned cheek to the light.
“You should. I’m not the type to back down from a challenge.”
He nodded. “Good. I wouldn’t want you to.”
My eyes rolled, and I had a hard time hiding the smirk. I’d always dated the wrong men, so when I took a chance on Grayson, it spooked me how right he was. He was gentle, but dominant, in tune with my desire and responded to every sound.
I was far too comfortable having to tell men what I wanted—never fully satisfied unless I drew them a map to my vagina. Grayson didn’t need a map. He had built-in GPS, with a Wi-Fi setting pointing to Betty’s channel of O’s.
One foot in front of the other, I gestured to Nash one last time to stay out of this. His big-brother spider senses were palpable, and it was irritating. I could handle Grayson just fine.
My hands fell to my sides, the handle of the taser brushing against my thigh.
I sauntered right up to Grayson and stopped, unafraid.
He uncrossed his arms, hands clenched at his sides.
I could tell he wanted to reach out and touch me, but stopped himself.
Tilting my chin up to face him eye to eye, I arched my back and let my breasts brush against his pecks.
A breath hissed through his teeth at the contact, snarling. Actually, snarling.
With my taser-free hand, I reached up and pinched the bill of his hat before tilting it back and off his head.
His dark eyes were already on mine once the dim light revealed them.
He had thick, dark Italian eyelashes and brows, and his skin was a beautiful warm olive, tanned by the sun. He smelled of sea salt and tobacco.
The hat dropped to the floor with a hollow thud, and I let my red nails trail down his rough cheek. His jaw clenched, barely contained desire crossing his face. He wanted me, and he wasn’t being coy about it. My knees wobbled at the sight before I recovered.
Arching onto my toes, I came eye to eye with him. We were close enough that his breath fell across my lips, warm and steady. His attention fell, and I leaned as close as I could without letting our lips touch.
Neither of us blinked.
“Can I have the art back?” I whispered, letting my tongue trail across his upper lip. “Pretty please?”
I could feel his mouth curl into a smirk. “You can have anything you’d like, especially if you remember to say please.”
His eyes were hooded and glazed as I tilted my head.
My nose brushed against his. He snapped, stepping forward and latching his lips to mine, nibbling before diving deep into my mouth.
His thigh fit between my legs, and I couldn’t help but lean my core into it.
Our bodies aligned, and his arousal was apparent.
Despite his aggressive mouth and thigh, his hands remained at his sides, not daring to grab me.
I could smell him even more now, could taste him as he drew my bottom lip into his mouth.
I pulled back. He eagerly followed. A smirk was the only warning I offered before I plunged the taser into his side.
He buckled with a grunt, releasing his kiss. It followed with a pained chuckle as he sank to the floor. Despite his shock, there was a hint of pleasure in his reaction.
A flash of arm was my only warning as Nash stepped in front of me, landing a fisted blow across Grayson’s face. His head snapped to the side with a crunch of bone.
“Nash!” I yelled, annoyed. Grayson slumped to the ground, and I glared at my big brother. “You didn’t have to do that. I had it under control.” As much as Grayson annoyed me, I didn’t want to see him bleed.
Nash was huffing with anger, massaging his knuckles as he circled Grayson. “Yes, I did.”
Drawing in a long stream of air and closing my eyes for strength, I felt Sybil arrive at my side. Her slight frame shook with barely contained laughter. She had her sleeve-covered hand over her mouth to hide her glee.
Seeing her like that made me smile despite the violence. I was relieved it didn’t scare her. Seeing my best friend this happy felt good, even if it was at Grayson’s expense.
Especially at Grayson’s expense.
Nash dropped his duffel bag, pulling out zip ties. He dragged Grayson to a pole and let him slump against it. His beautiful Italian eyes were on mine again, a vindictive and amused smile that dripped with blood in one corner.
What a shitwhistle—albeit an adorable one.
The zip of the ties filled the room with sound as Nash secured Grayson’s hands around the pole behind his back.
I looked down at Nash’s bag of tricks, seeing a roll of duct tape.
Swiping it up, I sauntered over to Grayson on the floor before kneeling over his lap to straddle him.
I let the roll of duct tape hang around my wrist like a bracelet as I placed my hands on the pole above his head and leaned in close.
“Tag, you’re it,” I whispered in his ear, sucking his earlobe as his chest rumbled with another deep purr.
He bucked up into my core once. I leaned back, spreading my knees and pressing myself down onto the bulge beneath the zipper of his jeans.
I grabbed the ragged edge of the duct tape and yanked off a five-inch piece, placing it between my teeth and ripping it off. The sound cut through the silence.
With lips teasing his, he leaned forward as far as his restraints allowed.
He parted my mouth, devouring me with a hunger so delicious, I almost forgot where we were.
I moaned at his minty taste, tinged with the coppery hint of his blood.
He was shaking with adrenaline now, his tongue gentle as it stroked mine.
Acutely aware of every point of contact, I undulated my core in a tease before breaking away and fitting the duct tape over his mouth with a sweet pat. He breathed hard through his nose, eyes locked with mine.
Sybil and Nash were busy packing the paintings into a bag, pretending to ignore what I was doing. I kissed Grayson’s forehead and gave him one last saccharin sweet smile. Standing, his eyes roamed over me, a groan rumbling against the duct tape over his mouth.
His eyes filled with a million promises of retribution, and butterflies erupted in my gut. I hoped this was just the beginning, because this —
I needed more.