Chapter Nine #2
Simple. No point lying. I try to stay away from club whores. Learned enough from my ex about mixing women and club life. Ain’t many women in town I give a second glance to. Twila caught my eye years ago.
She swallows. “How long?”
“Long enough.”
“How long is long enough?”
“Since before you noticed.”
The smugness fades. Something softer replaces it, which is dangerous in a whole different way.
“Why didn’t you do anything about it?”
“Your daddy.”
She smiles. “Knew it.”
“Not scared of him.”
“Sure.”
“Don’t flatter him.”
“Then why?”
“Badge.”
“What about it?”
“Club.”
“Badge and club ain’t an explanation.”
“Kid.”
She stops.
Wren. That one she understands without me explaining.
“Life,” I say. “I got enough shit without having Sheriff Dix’s daughter in my bed.”
“Your bed?” Her eyebrows rise.
I look at her standing between my knees in Mama’s basement after I tackled her, handcuffed her, kidnapped her, and dragged her down here against her will.
“Now I clearly make terrible fucking decisions.”
She laughs again.
I shouldn’t enjoy that sound so much. I do.
Her cuffed hands settle on my shoulders. “What if I told you I’m not trying to get your keys?”
“I’d call you a fucking liar.”
“What if I told you I don’t care about them right now?”
That gets dangerous.
I sit straighter as my cock doesn’t believe in lies. “Twila.”
“What?”
“You wanna use me to get loose, don’t.”
Her smile fades.
“I’m not trading your freedom for pussy.”
Her eyes flash. “That’s crude.”
“I’m a biker.”
“Right.”
“I mean it.”
Her hands remain on my shoulders while I keep mine to myself.
Barely.
“You want me because you want me, say it. Otherwise sit your ass back down.”
Silence settles between us. For once, Twila doesn’t have some smartass answer waiting.
Her eyes search mine before her chin lifts. “You scared?”
“No.”
“Then kiss me.”
Heat goes straight through me.
“That an order, Deputy?”
“Consider it a test.”
“Bad fucking idea.”
“Probably.”
I give her one last second to move.
She doesn’t. So I rise up and kiss her.
Fuck.
I’ve thought about this more times than I’m admitting, and none of them got it right.
Twila’s mouth is warm and angry and tastes faintly like sweet tea and barbecue. She makes a small surprised sound against me, like she didn’t expect me to actually do it, then kisses me back hard enough to wipe every smart thought out of my damn skull.
Her cuffed hands slide behind my neck.
That’s when mine finally move.
One catches her waist while the other cups the back of her neck. She opens for me when my tongue touches hers, pressing closer until there ain’t enough room between us for another bad decision.
Then she bites my lower lip.
I pull back. “Goddammit.”
Her eyes are bright. “You complaining?”
“Always this violent?”
“You like it.”
“Yeah.”
I drag my thumb across her mouth. “That’s the fucking problem.”
She kisses me this time. No warning. No test. Her body presses into mine, and my hand slides lower to her hip before I can stop it. Twila shifts between my knees, her cuffed hands tangling in my hair as the chair creaks beneath us.
Then she climbs onto my lap.
Jesus Christ.
“Thought you wanted my keys,” I mutter against her mouth.
“Shut up.”
“Definitely your plan.”
She kisses me harder.
One of my hands settles at her waist while the other moves slowly up her back. Her hips roll against me, slow and deliberate enough that I groan into her mouth.
Twila pauses just long enough to know exactly what she did. Then does it again. The chair legs scrape across the concrete when my boots brace harder against the floor.
Little shit.
“You like that?” she whispers.
“No.”
“Liar.”
“Yeah.”
Her mouth travels along my jaw and down my neck. Every inch makes it harder to remember why this is a bad idea, especially when her teeth scrape lightly over my throat.
I tighten my grip on her waist.
“Twila.”
“Mmm?”
“Don’t.”
She pulls back enough to see my face. “Don’t what?”
“Make this something it ain’t.”
Her expression hardens slightly. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You started this for the keys.”
“Maybe.”
“Yeah.”
“So?”
“So now you ain’t thinking about them.”
She opens her mouth, then stops.
There.
Caught her.
I lean back enough to see her properly. “You forgot why you started.”
“That’s arrogant.”
“That’s true.”
“Fuck you.”
“Was headed that direction.”
Color climbs into her cheeks.
I smile. “See?”
“You’re an ass.”
“You’re still sitting on my dick.”
She glances down before snapping her eyes back up. “Your jeans are between us.”
“Ain’t helping much.”
A quiet laugh escapes her, but she doesn’t move.
Neither do I.
My hand slides along her waist until my fingers reach the bottom edge of her shirt.
Then I stop.
Twila notices immediately.
“You stopped.”
“Yeah.”
“Why?”
“Because I ain’t fucking you while you’re my prisoner.”
The playfulness leaves her face.
“I didn’t ask you to.”
I look pointedly toward her hips. “Your hips sent a different memo.”
She shoves my shoulder, and I steady her automatically before she can tip backward.
“Asshole.”
“Yep.”
“I thought bikers were supposed to take what they want.”
“Some do.”
“You?”
“Can’t.”
That changes something in her face. Small, but there.
I keep my voice low. “You wake up tomorrow pissed at yourself, that’s your business. You wake up tomorrow wondering if I took something because you were trying to get out, that becomes mine. I have a daughter.”
She studies me for a long moment. “You think I’m that confused?”
“I think you’ve had a hell of a day.”
“You dodged the question.”
“I think you wanted my keys.”
She nods once. “Started that way.”
“Knew it.”
“I know you knew.”
“Was obvious.”
“Shut up.”
“Couldn’t resist.”
Her fingers toy with the hair at the back of my neck now, not seductive so much as absent and almost intimate.
Worse.
“I didn’t keep kissing you because of the keys,” she says.
Fuck.
That hits different.
My hand tightens slightly at her waist. “Yeah.”
“Yeah what?”
“Figured that part out when you stopped checking my pockets.”
Her mouth opens. “You noticed that?”
“Blondie, you had your hand halfway down my back pocket.”