“I’m not known for my good ideas,” I whispered hoarsely, caught off guard by the visceral reaction my body seemed to have to her. My blood practically fuckin’ hummed with desire, a song I could hear beatin’ against my ribcage like a drum.
“I’m not surprised,” came her breathy return, those huge eyes lookin’ up at me without fear. “I knew the moment I saw you that you were trouble.”
“The best kind,” I agreed. “What’s reward without a little risk?”
As if in answer to my own question, I found myself leanin’ forward, transfixed by the plump shape’a her mouth and the tiny dimple in the middle’a her bottom lip. My tongue snuck up to tap the indent ’cause I was sure it would taste sweet as sin.
And it did.
I hesitated for only a second, my body a question mark hoverin’ over hers.
And then she sighed, a little puff of warm air against my heat-seekin’ lips.
The next moment, she kissed me.
Fuck me, but I hadn’t been kissed since I was a boy. Girls didn’t often grab me by the chin, jerk to their tiptoes, and land a hot, wet kiss on my waitin’ lips. My aura didn’t allow for it. I was the one doin’ the huntin’, the sweet-talkin’, the kissin’.
But holy shit, bein’ kissed had its own kinda glory.
She quivered on her tiptoes in an effort to reach my mouth, to part my lips with her small, hot tongue.
I was tempted to let her orchestrate it all, just to watch how she’d come at me, struggle to have all’a me, but my blood was roarin’ too loudly in my ears, urgin’ me totake, take, take.
So I did.
My body slammed hers against the metal with a bang. Her groan exploded into my mouth, a spark I swallowed that flared brightly in my belly. When I hiked her higher with the hand on her hip, anglin’ it down over her sweet, round ass, she moaned and squirmed like makin’ out against a shitty van was the carnal delight’a her fuckin’ life.
It took my mind to a darker place, imaginin’ all the noises she’d make if I had my proper way with her. If she had her way with me. Somethin’ told me she’d be a goddamn wildcat.
I rocked my hips into her denim-covered groin and ate her gasp off her pretty pink tongue.
“Oh my God,” she said, pullin’ away with panic in her eyes, a flush painted high and bright on her cheeks.
“What?” I growled, unable to pull back on the animal desire surgin’ through me. How was it possible for a girl to taste like sugar and rum all at once?
“Your, uh, your…” She struggled with the words, her blush flarin’ higher.
It only took me a second. A grin slid across my damp mouth, and masculine triumph swelled inside my chest.
“Yeah,” I murmured against her mouth, nippin’ at her lower lip and pressin’ the length’a me she was commentin’ on a little harder against her belly. “Told ya they call me Boner for a reason.”
“Oh my God,” she said as her head thudded back against the metal so she could look at the sky as if actually talkin’ to the Big Man himself. “Why is your ridiculousness so charming?”
One shoulder lifted in a shrug as I pressed my smile like a stamp into her cheek. Fuck, she smelled so good, felt so good all soft and warm against my hard edges. “People usually don’t expect men who look like me to have a sense’a humour.”
“Why?”
It was a good question but a hard one to answer. Why was a man riddled with tattoos and scars, a man who lived by a code of honor not written in law books and bibles but in blood and leather, judged to be a certain way?
“’Cause it’s safer to look scary and be scary than it is to be vulnerable. Humour is its own kinda vulnerability. What if you don’t laugh?” I murmured, lookin’ down into those brilliant-cut sapphire eyes and unable to stop the thought that I’d found more treasure that night than I had secured to my back. “We all choose our masks, yeah? It’s safer that way.”
“You don’t get so wise without living through some shit first.” Her small fingers were in my hair, tuggin’ and twirlin’ the long ends floppin’ over my forehead. It was a small intimacy, but it seemed profound in our dark corner’a the abandoned parkin’ lot. As contraband as the stolen jewels.
“Yeah,” I agreed easily. “You don’t.”
We stared at each other from inches apart, our passion coolin’ but intrigue burnin’ up in its wake. I couldn’t shake this rabid curiosity I had about her. There were questions I wanted answered and moments I wanted to witness with her. It wasn’t just sex, and that was usually more than enough to freak me out and send me runnin’.
So what was it about this girl with blue hair that hooked my soul like a caught fish?
