Page 28 of Riding the Edge
“Al,” she says. “What are you doing?”
Hand to God, I have no fucking idea.
Diverting my attention back to Lenny.
“Who the fuck are you?” he hisses.
“A friend,” I reply. “Now, here’s how this is going to go—”
Pressing a hand to my chest, Maria cuts me off and turns to Lenny.
“Lenny, why don’t you go back to your lane and I’ll catch up with you in a few,” she suggests.
Lenny glares at me for a moment before his gaze darts to her hand that is still laying against my chest. Huffing, he mumbles something inaudible before giving her a tight nod and stepping around her, retreating to his lane. Once he’s out of sight, Maria glances over my shoulder, towards the front desk. Calling out to whoever is behind it, she announces she’s taking her break before bringing her brown eyes back to mine. Dropping her hand, she places both on her hips.
“Let’s go, Wolf,” she orders.
Call me crazy, but I’ve always had a thing for a woman with fire in her veins and this one has a fucking inferno spreading wildly through her.
“Where we going, Lady,” I muse, feeling my lips twitch behind my beard.
“Somewhere quiet,” she spats.
“I usually have to take a woman to dinner first,” I deadpan.
“Now,” she hisses. Spinning on her heel, she sashays her hips and charges for the door, never bothering to see if I’m following her. Why would she? A woman knows when she’s got a man by the balls and I’m fairly certain Maria just twisted mine in a knot.
With another glance at Lenny, I follow the spitfire out of the bowling alley. In the parking lot, I shove my hands in my pockets and watch her pace in front of me. I don’t laugh, and I sure as fuck don’t tell her to relax. Everyone knows telling an angry Italian woman to calm down works about as well as trying to baptize a cat.
“I could’ve handled that,” she says finally.
“I don’t doubt that,” I reply, cocking my head as she gives me her eyes. “And you shouldn’t doubt a man won’t interfere when a piece of shit touches a woman who don’t want to be touched.”
“Lenny—”
“He your man?”
“No,” she replies, narrowing her eyes.
“You ask for his hands?”
“Well, no.”
“Then they don’t belong there.”
Arching one perfectly manicured eyebrow, she crosses her arms and shifts her weight to one side as she studies me.
“Why are you here, Wolf?”
Fuck if I know the answer to that one. Looking out at the packed parking lot, I shrug my shoulders.
“I don’t text.”
“I gathered that much when you called me,” she says. Unable to hold out anymore, I meet her gaze, taking a moment to appreciate her pretty face. Another thing I never bothered to do until now. Framing her soulful eyes, are the longest pair of eyelashes I’ve ever seen. If I was staring at any other woman, I would question if they’re fake, but I already know there are no false pretenses when it comes to Maria. What you see is what you get.
I don’t have to touch her to know her skin is as smooth as silk. That doesn’t mean the urge ain’t there. If I didn’t think she’d snap my finger in half, I’d brush my calloused thumb over her cheek and take a fix. Maybe it would be enough to stop me from wondering what those lips taste like.
Jesus Christ.
