“And you’ve been stalking me,” she states.
It’s not a question, but my lips twitch at the words. A sense of pride flows through me because she was aware enough of her surroundings to know that someone was following her, but also that the person doing so wasn’t a threat.
“Next time someone is stalking you, call me, yeah?”
“Next time?”
I hum, dipping my chin in a single nod. “Yeah, because next time, it won’t be me.”
Her lips part in awe before they pull up into a smile. “I knew it was you. I thought I saw you here a month ago. I was right, wasn’t I?”
“You were. I had to know it was you, and then I wasn’t sure if I was even going to approach you.”
“Why not?”
I press my lips together in a thin line. My eyes search hers for a moment. She crosses her arms over her chest, the action pushing her tits up a bit. My gaze flicks down to look at the swells of her breast, and I am instantly disappointed that I didn’t taste her there.
There’s going to have to be a next time, because I didn’t get to taste nearly enough of her. I also didn’t get to touch and feel as much as I would have preferred. Next time, we need a bed and a few hours.
CHAPTER EIGHT
PIGGY
Her scent haunts me.At least it feels that way. Lying in bed, I place my arm over my eyes and breathe. I would be at the club tonight, but I have to work tomorrow afternoon, so I’m supposed to be getting a full night’s sleep.
Except that’s exactly what evades me. Sleep. Throwing my legs over the side of the bed, I scrub my palms down my face and let out a heavy sigh before I stand. I’m not going to get any sleep anyway. I might as well go do something.
Once I’m dressed, I walk out of the house and toward my bike. I climb onto my machine and start the engine before backing out of my driveway, heading straight for the clubhouse. It doesn’t take me long to get there, especially at this time of night.
When I pull up to the gate, the prospect on watch jerks his chin, and without a single word, the gate slides open. I ride through and straight up toward the front of the building. As always, no matter the time, there are lights on inside, and I can hear music playing.
I make my way toward the front door. As I reach for the handle, I think about getting back on my bike and heading home. I don’t do that, though. Every moment in life is about the choices we make, and I tend to make the wrong ones when it comes to my personal life… like right now.
What I should do is go home.
But I don’t.
I walk into the bar, look around, and spot Daisy. She’s got her back to the wall and her head tipped as she looks down at her phone. I’m not sure what she’s looking at or who she would be texting at this hour, but it doesn’t matter either.
I move toward her and stop when I’m close enough that I don’t have to yell across the room. Sensing my presence, she lifts her head, her eyes finding mine. She jerks her head back slightly, likely not expecting to see me standing here in front of her.
“Don’t you work tomorrow?” she asks.
My lips twitch into a smirk. “You the keeper of my schedule?”
Daisy snorts. “Absolutely not. However, I do know you don’t sleep here when you’re working.”
She’s right. I don’t. When I was younger, I did, and I went to work hungover and still drunk more than once. It’s dangerous, and it’s not something I’m proud of. Some people may not think that being a cop is important to me. They may think I just do it to protect the Reapers. But that would be a lie.
I love my job.
I love protecting people who can’t defend themselves. It’s who I am to my core and the main reason I’ve never left the force. I’ve made enough money with the club over the years that I could have left, financially, but being a police officer is my passion.
“Millie’s back,” I state.
Sure, the guys saw her at the strip club, but after I hauled her ass away and fucked her, nobody mentioned her again. Not thatI was really open to a discussion. I wasn’t ready to talk about her, at least not to them.
“She is?” Daisy asks.
