Better When He's Bad (Welcome to the Point #1)(33)
He snorted and resumed his position on his back on the bed. I made a face when I saw that blood had worked through the bandage on his side.
“Sure you can. That’s what strippers and hookers are for. Come on, Copper-Top, I’m beat. Climb up here and go to sleep.”
I don’t know how he could just close his eyes and act like none of that had just happened. The front of his boxers was bulging and I could see a small wet circle on the fabric. I shoved frustrated hands through my hair.
“I told you to stop.”
I crossed my arms over my chest and looked down at him. He cracked open one eye and shoved his good arm under his head.
“You didn’t really want me to.”
I huffed out an annoyed breath. “You don’t get to be the judge of that.”
He sighed and let his open eye drift shut. “I do when you’re leaning into my fingers, one hand touching yourself, the other pulling me closer. I’m pretty sure you left half your fingernails in the back of my head. And ‘oh, Bax; please, Bax; more, Bax’ sounds a whole lot different than ‘stop.’ If I was more mobile I wouldn’t have needed your help. If you’re going to do this, Dovie, then commit; if not, then call your friend and take off. I don’t like rules, yours or anyone else’s. Like I said, if you want me to stop or you really don’t like something I’m doing, you need to mean it. Now, either come to bed and I’ll get up and take you to the store in the morning so you can buy groceries and whatever other girly shit you need, and I can buy a big-ass box of condoms, or go away. My head hurts, my side is on fire, and you are ruining a really nice buzz I have from getting you off with minimal effort and one working hand.”
I wanted to choke him. I stood there and considered whether or not I could actually get away with murder. I should call Brysen. This was out of my wheelhouse and there was no way I was up to going rounds with him like this. He said commit; I didn’t think I could. I was going to find my phone and call Brysen and leave him to his own devices. That’s right; I was going to do the smart thing and walk away. Only his eyes snapped back open and he levered himself up so he was sitting, and he snagged me around my waist, and pulled me down on the bed so I was sprawled across him. His breath was warm and seductive as it whispered across my face.
“Don’t be a pain in the ass.”
He stroked his hand all the way along my spine and I let my eyes drift closed. What on earth was I supposed to do now?
RACE AND BAX MIGHT have grown up together, but they were as opposite as day and night. And not just because my older brother came from a privileged background, and Bax was oh-so-obviously from the streets. It went beyond their light and dark looks as well. I woke up early again, mostly because I was surrounded by brawny, half-naked Bax and he had his hands tangled painfully in my hair. Even in sleep it was like he was struggling, fighting some unseen enemy, and that made my heart hurt for him. Race slept like a baby. He sprawled out, snored, and wouldn’t wake up if a bomb went off next to his head.
Grocery shopping with Bax was like a full-contact sport. He blazed through the aisles, throwing things in the cart at random with no idea or rhyme or reason as to what they went with or what they could make as a meal. He clearly had a sweet tooth because there was more candy in the basket than any grown man could possibly consume. Race made a list, broke it down in meals, and avoided the aisles that didn’t have the stuff he wanted in them. Not to mention the other shoppers. Bax ignored them, or glowered at them if they stopped to look at him too long. He was the one who had tattooed his face; I would’ve thought he would be used to it. It didn’t help matters that without his hoodie, there was no missing the smear of red high along his side on the fabric of his gray Henley he had pulled out of the back of the Runner. Race was affable. Liked to chat and flirted shamelessly with any old lady or teenage girl we went past. I was having a hard time figuring out how the two of them managed to have any kind of friendship, let alone a brotherhood that Bax had been willing to go to jail to protect.
I pulled up short when I realized we were in the pharmacy aisle and he was looking at me with a raised eyebrow. There were giant boxes of condoms in front of him and he was waiting for me to decide what I wanted to do about it. All I could do was stare at him. If he didn’t seem to be two different men, it would be easier. I wasn’t the biggest fan of the brute that bossed me around and tried to intimidate me, but the guy who held me at night and brushed my hair softly off my face I kind of had a major crush on. It sucked that they both inhabited the same battle-hardened, impossible-to-ignore body.
I sighed. “Just get them. Better safe than sorry.”
He laughed at me and then made a face and put a hand on his side. I had refused to use the superglue on his cut, but now I wondered if that was a good idea. The wound was still oozing blood and it obviously hurt him when he moved wrong. He tossed not one, but two boxes in the cart and wheeled around so we could go check out.
“I still think you should go see a doctor and get stitches. You were stabbed.”
He looked down at me. “I was sliced, not stabbed; big difference. It’ll be fine. That was a sharp-ass knife, it was a clean cut.”
I noticed a woman next to us in line giving him the once-over. He just seemed to have that kind of draw to the opposite sex. I rolled my eyes.
“How did Nassir know you were going to win? I told you he handed me that money before that big guy slammed you into the ground.”