Be My Hero (Forbidden Men #3)(41)

"Well, he certainly doesn't have to do it if he doesn't want to. It's not like Jessie will fire him for saying no."

"Really?" Brightening with that possibility, I turned to Mason.

Mason bit his lip, clearly tempted. "You're sure she wouldn't mind?"

Pick just snorted. "She can take it up with me if she does."

Mason nodded. "Then, no, I don't . . . I don't want to participate."

"I don't want to either," Quinn spoke up.

Cursing, Pick closed his eyes briefly before scowling at Quinn. "Jesus, guys. Okay, fine." He blew out a frustrated breath. "Neither of you have to do the actual serving. But this won't work with just Ten and I on the auction block. You'll have to stand up with us throughout the main event and pretend to participate. Then, if someone actually chooses either of you—"

"Which is a total non-issue," Ten called from across the room as he went to unlock the front doors, "because all the ladies are going to choose me."

Pick nodded. "Then we'll just tell the winner you have to work the bar tonight, and she needs to pick someone else."

I blew out a relieved breath. With a quick glance toward Mason, I saw that he had too. Good. There was one issue out of the way. Turning back to Pick, I realized I had one more thing to accomplish tonight.

Reaching out, I grabbed him by the front of his shirt.





Chapter 9


PICK


"We need to talk," she said.

Eva shocked the shit of out me when she grabbed the front of my shirt.

"Um, o . . . kay." I stumbled into step as she strode toward the back hall, dragging me along behind her. Not that I minded following her. I'd follow her anywhere she wanted to lead me, anywhere I could be alone with her. But the way she took charge and yanked me into action was hot.

Anticipation stole up the back of my neck. I knew what it felt like to thrust inside this woman. I knew exactly how she looked when she closed her eyes and bit her bottom lip when she came, how her muscles clenched around my cock and her breasts arched against my chest. Yet I'd never had sex with her, never actually seen her naked, never even kissed her.

My mind knew that, but my body hadn't caught on yet. My senses were thrumming with outright arousal. It was impossible to be this close to her, breathe in her lilac scent, and not remember every f*cking detail of those glimpses. She'd been the best lay I'd ever had, and it hadn't even been real.

The first time I'd been with a girl, I'd been expecting that rush, that blinding sensation I'd had when I'd been with Tinker Bell in those visions. But it hadn't come. It never came when I was with someone else. I couldn't count how many times I'd searched for the unexpected bliss of burying myself deep into heaven, only to come up with nothing.

Looking at Eva now, I had to wonder if it'd be that way with her since she was the woman from my glimpses—my soul mate. My dick definitely thought it would be. The thing was hard as a stone.

She stopped abruptly about halfway down the hall and turned to face me. I had to skid to a stop not to bump into her and accidentally stab her with the horny stone. My body heated, igniting this current that made me beyond painfully hard. Thank God, Lowe's T-shirt was baggy and long on me. It helped conceal it.

"Do you want to win this auction thing?" she asked.

I blinked, still trying to get the vision of having sex with her out of my head. "Yeah," I finally answered. "I do."

"Good. I thought so." Opening a huge purse draped over her shoulder, she pulled out an aerosol can of some kind and shook it before spraying some white shit that looked like whipped topping into her palm, which really sent my dirty thoughts spinning, until she said, "Bend down here," and reached for my hair.

Instead of bending down, I took a leery step back. "What the f*ck is that?"

"It's mousse, you moron. AKA, hair-styling gel. I'm going to spiff you up so you can look insanely hot instead of just mildly hot. Now bend your head down so I can finesse your hair into place and help you win this auction."

If she'd wanted to wipe dog shit on me just for the hell of it, I probably would've let her. She was Tinker Bell; no way could I deny her anything. So I bent my head.

Wait, had she just called me mildly hot? Double wait—

"Let me get this straight. You just about had a coronary to get Lowe out of this auction, but now you're back here, spiffing me up, so I'll win it?" I wasn't sure if I should be offended or not. Why didn't she have a problem selling me off to some unnamed woman?

But then she sank her fingers into my hair, and f*ck . . . nothing was going to offend me for a good long while. Jesus, she had nice fingers. They felt so damn fine on me. Her nails occasionally scraped my scalp, and each time they did, every nerve ending in my body had a mini-orgasm. My heartbeat pulsed through my throbbing erection until I had to concentrate not to roll my hips with her fingers as she tugged on my hair with these rhythmic pulls, making sure she lathered that foam shit on every lock. And oh . . . holy baby Jesus, it felt good. So. Damn. Good.

Then she spoke, and the tone of her voice was like drizzling chocolate over an already perfect dessert. "You actually want to win," she said, "and he didn't even want to participate, so . . . yes. That's it exactly."