Fire Inside (Chaos #2)(26)

“What were you lookin’ for then, babe?”

This was, alas, an interesting question.

“Not your replacement,” I snapped, my tone sharp to hide my sudden uncertainty.

“Christ, we’re back to your bullshit,” he clipped, scowling at me.

“You’re very arrogant, Hopper Kincaid,” I told him, my tone now so sharp it was cutting, and there was no hidden uncertainty.

“Yeah, well, man gets that way when a woman that looks like you comes as hard as I can make you come and, when you lose my dick, you go out searchin’ for more of what you lost. Stupid shit is that you looked in the wrong place when you know exactly where to find me.”

He could not be serious.

“Okay, tell me you didn’t say that,” I invited.

“You heard what I said, Lanie, and, gotta tell you, not a word of it I’d take back because you and I both know every word is true,” he returned.

“Okay, don’t take it back. Instead, take me back to my car,” I demanded.

“Five beers, three shots of vodka says you are not gettin’ behind a wheel tonight,” he shot back.

Oh dear. He’d been paying a good deal of attention.

Time for a new tactic.

I pulled my purse off my arm, starting to dig through it, declaring, “Right, then I’ll get a taxi.”

Suddenly my purse was yanked out of my hand and I was staring at Hop digging through it. He pulled out my phone, shoved it in his pocket, then tossed my bag across the room where it landed with a bounce on the ratty easy chair that was mostly covered in dirty clothes as well as his leather cut.

I stared at my purse then I stared at his face, then I looked at his jeans pocket before I looked back at him, lifting my hand, palm up.

“Give me my phone,” I ordered.

“You want it, go for it,” he goaded.

I crossed my arms on my chest, murmuring, “Oh, I see.”

“You don’t see shit,” he ground out.

My brows lifted. “I don’t?”

“No, babe, so goddamned blind, purposefully, you’re stumblin’, bumpin’ into shit, but barrelin’ ahead anyway, bound for a world of hurt.”

That was way too close to the bone so I ignored it, uncrossed my arms and lifted my hand his way again.

“Hopper, give me my phone.”

“You’re sleepin’ here tonight.”

I planted my hands on my hips, leaned in and hissed, “Told you, I see. I know what you’re doing.”

“You don’t know shit either.”

“I know this is bullshit,” I fired at him.

“Well, you got one thing right,” he fired back.

Gah! He had an answer for everything. He was so annoying!

I took a calming breath that didn’t calm me before I snapped. “Give me my phone.”

“No.”

“Hop, give me my damn phone!”

He ignored me. “You sleep in one of my tees. The ones here are all dirty but don’t matter. Even dirty, they’re better than what you’re wearin’,” he stated as he flipped a hand out and up, indicating me.

Backed into a corner, I decided to get nasty.

“I’ve been around you a lot, Hop. I’ve seen you. I’ve seen what you like. This,” I swept a hand down my front, “is the way you like it.”

Nasty was not—and I knew it, I’d learned that lesson before—the way to go.

I learned it again then when, one second, he was three feet away. The next, he was right on me, hand in the back of my hair, arm wrapped around my back, his face in my face, lips nearly on mine.

“Yeah, I liked skank,” he bit off. “Liked the taste. Wild, free, and easy. Went back for more. Repeatedly. But that was before I had my mouth between the legs of a lady. You get that, you don’t go back.”

Oh no. The area between the legs where he’d had his mouth got wet at his words and it didn’t help he was so close; my breaths were mingling with his, my br**sts were brushing his chest, and my mind was centering on the fact that I knew what it felt like, my br**sts bared, his chest the same, and my ni**les brushing against his chest hair.

At the memory, my breaths got shallow but faster and those ni**les swelled.

He either felt or sensed my reaction and I knew this because his hand in my hair fisted, his lips moved so they grazed mine, and the mood of the room shifted so immensely it was a wonder we didn’t rock with it.

In response to all that, my breaths got shallower and my legs started trembling so much I had to lift a hand and curl my fingers in the side of his tee.

“Three weeks,” he growled. “I go to bed, lie there and think of you. Wake up, you’re the first thing on my mind.”

Oh God.

I liked that.

Oh God.

I couldn’t like it.

I tried to wipe his words from my brain but he went on, “Tell me you don’t feel that.”

I shook my head, short, sharp, and his fist in my hair tightened.

No pain.

Control.

Possession.

I liked that, too.

Yes, when we hit Chaos, I hit trouble.

My knees started to get weak and I lifted my other hand to curl into the other side of his tee.

“You feel it,” he whispered against my lips. “You do the same, lady. You go to bed thinkin’ of me, wake up with me on your mind. You do the exact, f**kin’ same.”