“Stop telling me what to do.”
“Stop acting like you’re twelve and I will.”
Her eyes narrow, tiny fists clenching and unclenching. “I can always tell Maeve you’ve been spying on Bruno, going against her explicit orders to keepoffhis territory.”
My grin widens, and I lean against the bike, arms crossing. I love this side of her.
“I could also tell her you’ve been stripping here every Saturday for, what?Fun?”
She wants to stab me. I see it clear as day, her face pinkening, her chest heaving. If she was halfway competent with a blade like her older sister, I’d be flayed and dead in a ditch already.
Score one for Ferguson for never teaching his younger daughters to fight. We all know he didn’t because of how Maeve turned out—the poor bastard was afraid of her and didn’t want to repeat it with the others—but still, right now, I’d like to thank him in Hell for keeping me alive.
“Such an asshole,” she mutters, throwing her duffle at me. I can’t help but nod, fighting the laugh at her irritation.
“And yet, still lovable.”
“Doubtful.”
Swinging a leg over the side, I place the duffle in my lap, securing it to my waist. She twists, tripping and I grab her hand to settle her behind me.
She’s the only person I trust enough to touch. Given my upbringing, touch meant hurt—vulnerability. As such, I’ve limited physical affection, using restraints or rope to enjoy carnal pleasures. Yet with Collins? Touch has always been easy.
She’s not a danger. Not when she settles her thighs against me, or how her core heats the small of my back. My heart pounds in my chest; she’s not a danger, but my body reacts as if thrown into the deep end without a lifejacket. Pumping, thumping so loudly, I can barely hear the rev of my engine.
It’s Collins, for Christ’s sake. Maeve’s little sister. Get your shit together.
Tugging off my jacket, I toss it back at her, her green eyes dark with confusion. “You’re going to get cold, viper. Just put it on”
“Gee, thanks,” she mutters, pulling it over her dainty shoulders. She’s dwarfed by it.
When she doesn’t grab my hips, I raise an eyebrow and she huffs. “What?”
“You’re going to fall off.”
“No, I’m not.”
Revving the bike, we lurch forward and she slams into my back hard enough to release a gasp from those pouty lips. My mouth opens to comment and she slaps me. “Fucking prick.”
Finally, her arms slide around my middle, and I still. Warmth and heat trickle into my gut and I have to stop the groan of contentment at her closeness.
“Going to explain to me what happened there?”
She rolls her eyes. “Nope.”
“Collins…” I warn and she sighs. I’m done playing and she knows it.
“Alright, fine.” She shifts, body tight with tension. “Roman is going to send Maeve a contract.”
“For what, exactly?”
She avoids my eyes, looking to the dark night sky. This close to downtown, the stars are hard to see over the dazzling lights and city smog.
“For an alliance.”
“Whatalliance, viper?”
Shifting, she clears her throat. “He wants to marry…me. For the alliance. He’s going to send a proposal to Maeve for my hand in marriage.”
