Reign (Sin City Outlaws #1)(23)

“My friend Alessandra wanted to go out. Her cousin Bunky told her it was going to be fun,” I inform him. The whole thing sounds stupid now that I say it out loud.

He laughs, the sound sexy and rough.

“Bunky,” he mutters, shaking his head. The name rolling off his tongue makes it sound like Bunky is a screw-up. The alcohol hits at full force, and my body feels warm to the point little beads of sweat form on my chest. I try to roll down the window, but I can’t see in the dark.

“How much have you had to drink?”

I laugh, not sure how to answer that. I've had a few, but to anyone else the little I had wouldn’t so much as make them hiccup.

“That answers that. This your first time drinking, or did something horribly wrong happen and you needed to drown your worries? Like they ran out of your favorite pepper spray?” he asks flippantly.

Anger boils in my chest, and I have the sudden urge to hit him again.

Balling my fists, I mutter, “Fuck you.”

His head snaps to mine, and he hits the brakes. My bravery quickly fades, my hands gripping the dashboard to keep from slamming into it.

“Fuck me?” he states. He slides over and grabs me by the back of my hair, and my eyes nearly roll with pleasure as fear makes me lose my breath. I could try and fight him off, like I’ve been trained to. But because I’ve had a few, I’d more than likely make a mockery of myself.

His harsh breath feathers against my lips as he stares down at me. His full lips break into a crooked smile, his breath smelling of mint and whiskey.

“Rookie, don’t say shit you can’t back up. If you were in my bed, I’d rock that world of blue you live by, believe that.”

I swallow hard and squeeze my thighs to smother the unusual wetness in my panties. My desire for him kindles into a flame, bringing a heat I fear nobody will ever be able to snuff out. For the first time in years, I am turned on and want more. Taking in a ragged breath, I try to get a hold of myself.

“I—” I pause, my words coming out in an erotic tone.

His face turns serious, his eyes landing on my mouth.

“You want me,” he whispers, his eyes finding mine again. My stomach sinks.

“I don’t,” I defend, my words breathy.

“No?”

“No!” I repeat, coming off with more courage than I actually have.

His hold in my hair tightens, and my nipples harden against my top painfully. His other hand rests on the small of my back, and my body thrums with my own heartbeat. Is this from the alcohol, or am I really this affected by him? He drops his lips to my neck and I have to open my mouth to allow my harsh breathing to escape. My left hand grips the side of the door hard, my other grabbing his strong back. The contact making everything so much worse.

“You’re a f*cking liar,” he whispers against my neck. I bite my lip to keep from replying.

He lets go of my hair, and I nearly fall into the floorboard.

Settling myself back in my seat, I buckle up and refrain from eye contact the rest of the ride.

He pulls up outside of my house, and fear wracks my brain when I realize I never told him where I live.

“How’d you know where I live?” I look at him with wide eyes.

He grins, his hair falling into his eyes. “I know where all my enemies live. Remember that when you want to run back to your department and squeal about something you think you saw tonight,” he threatens, before getting out of the truck. That fear he is so good at pounding into me returns at full force.

But if I was such a threat, why didn’t he kill me, or leave me to the wolves. Why did he race towards me, leaving his friend in danger? The questions eat at my mind.

I open the truck door, and all but fall on my face from the height of the truck. Zeek catches me before I face-plant and helps me get on my feet. His hands are so big on my small frame; he could easily hurt me if he wanted.

“Why did you save me, but not that other girl?” I ask, staring up into his dark eyes. Eyes that look haunted, intimidating, but lure me into the depths of temptation. His Adam's apple bobs, his eyes searching mine as his jaw clenches.

“What girl?” He plays dumb.

“The girl who seemed to know you so well. Dolly, I think?” I state, my foot-in-mouth much worse with my drinking.

Tucking my hair behind my ear, his index finger and thumb lazily feather against my chin, his callused finger leaving a blazing trail of temptation.

“You ask a f*ck-ton of questions, you know that?”

I laugh, but his face doesn’t find any humor. I know that look—it’s the look you see in the movies right before the couple kiss. Inhaling quickly, trying to get a hold of myself, my lungs fill with his smell of leather and cologne. I never knew someone could smell so good. I imagine the finest man alive couldn’t smell as good as Zeek does right now. Pressing my hand against his chest, I close my eyes, trying to find the words of strength to pull away.

His hand raises, and the words of rejection lodge in my throat as his hand gently grasps the back of my neck.

He slowly begins to lower his lips to mine, stopping short.

“Tell me no.” His voice is guttural. My eyes flick back and forth between his brown irises.

“Why?”

He swallows hard, but doesn’t reply. I don’t want to tell him no. What happens if I tell him yes? Why does he want me to tell him no? The string of thoughts slips through my mind briefly.