To have her, I have to go all the way and claim her as my girl. Ever said Ty and his crew hate my brothers. Not sure why, and I’ll be damned if I ask about guys who couldn’t care less whether I live or die. But I’m not one of them, and I’ll prove it.
I don’t hide. Nor will I back down.
I break off the kiss and stare into the most gorgeous face. Dark-brown doe eyes glazed over with desire. A luscious mouth I can kiss for hours.
“What’s your answer, baby? Sweetness.” My voice is low and throaty next to her ear, meant more for the bedroom than in the presence of three hulking guys who are watching us with interest and curiosity.
“Yes, Bobby.”
“Yes, what?”
“Yes, I’m your girl.”
“That’s it. Now say it loud and proud, darling.”
She takes my command and runs with it. The guys smirk but don’t question her loyalty. My cock stiffens. I smirk back.
There’s no doubt now.
I’ve started a war with her brother and his crew, and I have the upper fucking hand. I have her, Ever Moretti, the woman who haunts my dreams and holds the key to answering the question that’s had me living a life of guilt for the last two years—why did Carlos sacrifice his life for a POS like me?
27
EVER
I’ve dug myself into a deeper hole than I can ever dig myself out of, but at this moment, I’m not regretting telling the guys staring at us with eyes wide and mouths open that I’m Bobby Bliss’s girlfriend.
He was in the marines? Mr. Snarly Face saved his life? I want to know more, even if I am living out the saying “curiosity killed the cat.” I won’t die. Bobby promised to protect me. That includes protecting me from myself. Plus, there’s still the rumor. Getting closer to Bobby can help me figure out whether the rumor is true.
“Midnight. Dare.” I tip my chin. “Um, Gage’s cousin.”
“Slate Gray.” Mr. Snarly Face extends his hand.
I go to shake Slate’s hand, but Bobby’s warning near my ear stops me.
“I don’t share, sweetness.”
Heat runs a path from my face to my sex. I drop my hand and cross my arms. Midnight stares at my face and shakes his head. Dare rolls his eyes. Slate smirks and drops his hand.
Bobby angles his head near my ear. “Good girl.”
His praise does something to my insides. I shift from one foot to the other. Bobby’s low chuckle strokes my already heightened nerves with his nearness.
“What’s the plan?” Slate addresses Bobby with a jerk of his head to the house behind us.
“We get to work.”
“Now?!” Slate tips back his head and expels a breath, then crams his large hands into his pants pockets.
“What better time than right the fuck now? Unless you’re a pussy and can’t handle manual labor?” Bobby stares Slate down. Slate doesn’t waver.
I look from one brooding male to the other. It’s a pissing match of wills, and I’m not sure what’s worse, that I’m enjoying it or that I have a love-hate thing going for Bobby’s way of talking and doing things—with command and directness.
Without breaking eye contact, Bobby sticks out his fist. Slate taps it once with his. Then they do this explosion thing with their fingers. I hold back my smile. Men. Big egos one moment and juveniles the next.
Bobby takes my hand and leads me to the germ-filled, toxic waste house. “Come on, sweetness. I’d like your woman’s eyes and touch on this investment of mine.”
I don’t protest. I let him lead me like a trusting animal to the slaughter.
