Undeniable (Undeniable, #1)(13)

Her mouth fell open. “What?” she whispered.

Christ.

“Bitch, I don’t wanna f*ck you, so I ain’t gonna buy you drinks and tell you how f*ckin’ hot you are, hopin’ you’re gonna spread those bony-ass legs for me. ’Cause one, you’re not hot. You might be someday if you start eatin’, but as it is right now you’re not. And two, I don’t wanna f*ck you, so I’m givin’ it to you straight. Fuck off.”

She blinked. Then she leaned forward and placed a bony hand on his chest. And smiled. He stared down at her hand, debating whether he should break her fingers.

“Wherever you want it, however you want it,” she breathed. “Right here, in the bathroom, behind the club. Where. Ever. You. Want. It.”

His eyebrows shot up. She had either major self-esteem problems, some serious daddy issues, or maybe she was just plain f*cking crazy.

“Kami!” a female voice squealed. “Kami!”

The bitch beside him straightened up and looked around. “Evie?!” she yelled.

A giggling mass of dark brown hair surged forward through the crowd of people and barreled straight into the blonde. They were both shitfaced. Instead of hugging, they just kind of fell into each other, and then into him. Annoyed, he shoved them both backward, and the blonde’s drink went flying. People scattered as the glass shattered.

Laughing hysterically and clinging to each other, they both stood up straight. He watched, frozen, as a Horsemen’s tag slipped out from the brunette’s shirt. Her imposter of a shirt.

Then she flipped her hair out of her face, and his blood ran cold. Then hot. Really f*cking hot.

Last time he had seen Eva Fox, he’d been two seconds away from sinking balls-deep into all that sweetness, and he’d taken two bullets because of it.

“Kami!” Eva cried, oblivious to his presence. “Where have you been? I’ve been looking everywhere for you!”

Oblivious was the last thing he was. Bitch had on some kind of shirt that wasn’t actually a shirt but a triangle of sequins that appeared to be staying on her only by a complicated-looking series of strings. The f*cking thing barely covered her tits. Her fat, heavy, perfect tits. Her entire back and her midriff were exposed, her belly button pierced with some shiny bullshit, and the rest of her was encased in tight black leather pants. Tight as in he was damn positive she had to lube up her legs and juicy-as-hell ass to get those bad boys on.

On her feet, black Chucks.

His chest tightened.

Now standing, she tucked his old man’s tag back inside her non-shirt and did a little wiggle as she straightened her top—that wasn’t actually a top—causing her tits to bounce. He got hard. Just like that. Like he was seven-f*cking-teen.

Still giggling, she surveyed her surroundings, finally catching sight of him. Her made-to-suck-cock lips parted, her stormy eyes went wide, and she swayed a little to her right.

“Deuce,” she whispered.

He didn’t know what the f*ck to say, so he said the first thing that popped into his head.

“Babe.”

Kami looked between them. “You know him?”

“Yeah,” she said, her eyes on him. Jesus Christ, those eyes. She was damn beautiful.

“Introduce us!”

“Deuce, this is my friend Kami. Kami this is my…friend Deuce. But…”

She turned to her friend. “He’s married. Got kids, too. So, hands off.”

He stared at her, confused. He was married? He had kids? Oh, right. He was sorta married. And yeah, he had kids. He loved his kids. Their mother…not so much.

“Shame,” Kami purred. “The whole scary-faced, badass biker thing is really working for you.”

His lips curled in disgust. He just told this bitch he found her unattractive, that he in no uncertain terms wanted anything to do with her, and yet, she still wanted it. Fucking whore. Fucking f*cked-in-the-head stupid f*cking whore.

“He’s not scary,” Eva scolded. “He’s beautiful.”

Fuck him.

No one had ever called him beautiful, and he was pretty sure he never wanted to be called beautiful…until Eva Fox had called him beautiful, and now he wanted her to say it again. But this time, he wanted to be balls-deep inside of her while she said it.

“Do you want to dance?” Eva asked.

His eyes refocused. “What?”

“Dance. Do you want to?”

“No.”

“No?”

“This isn’t music, and I can’t dance.”

She bit her lip, and he knew she was trying not to laugh at him. Usually when people laughed at him or tried not to laugh at him—neither of which was often because he wasn’t a funny guy—he punched them in their f*cking face. Eva laughing at him made his cock twitch. This bitch did strange shit to him. His brain didn’t work around her, and his balls f*cking swelled, ready to repopulate the world as long as he was doing it inside her *.

“Everyone can dance.” She giggled.

He shook his head. “I can’t. I lumber. My wife says I lumber.”

She wrinkled up her nose. “Your wife is a f*cking cunt.”

He choked. Coughed. Pounded on his chest. Took a long swallow of his beer. Cleared his throat. “Darlin’, you have no idea.”

Grinning, she sidled up next to him and leaned her shoulder against the wall, so the front of her body faced his and took a sip of her drink—her bright pink drink with a pink umbrella and lots of floating cherries that reeked of tequila.