“No, Decker,” she seethes, pinning me with a glare that makes me feel like I’m looking up at her despite being at least a foot taller. “The only time you’rebearable,is when you’ve got my legs spread. After, you turn into this. Something sets you off, you have a temper tantrum, and then you activate fuck-boy mode and expect me to lie down and take it.”
She roughly releases my face and steps back, her neck flushed red, her breathing ragged, like maybe she’s about to lose her temper and punch me in the face again. “Talk to me with respect, like I’m a fucking person, or don’t talk to me at all.”
I clear my throat.Okayyy.“Grace?—”
“Unless the next words coming out of your mouth areI’m sorry for being a pompous asshole,then why are you even talking?”
My breathing stutters. Yeah, all right. I’m a dick. Butshedid this. She came for me. Held a gun to my head and tried to push me into a corner. The same shit the other Donovan’s been pulling on me for a decade.
I didn’t start this. She did.
I won’t apologize for shit.
Quickly, I find my tongue. “You’re forgetting that?—”
“Guess it’s not a surprise you were being so nice, given how badly you wanted to fuck me.” Smirking, she eyes my crotch. “Hope you enjoyed your breakfast, because that’s the last taste you’ll be getting. Dick.”
She turns on her heel and heads for my front door. She’s clutching her skirt, sneakers, and cellphone as she steps outside. In nothing but my T-shirt and her fucking underwear.
Shit.
I rush after her. “Grace. Wait a second,” I yell from the doorway. “Can you just?—”
She’s halfway down the lawn. Without looking back at me, she raises her middle finger and yells, “Get fucked, Decker.”
It’s only then that I notice the cruiser parked in front of my house. Miller leaning against it, arms crossed, eyebrows hitting his hairline.
“Morning, Gracie,” he says as she passes.
“Jake,” she bites out without slowing.
He keeps his focus on her as she storms down the street, and when she’s well out of earshot, he pushes off the car and saunters up my driveway, letting out a low whistle. “You weren’t answering your texts. Figured I’d pick you up. You’re, uh…. you’re screwing Gracie Donovan?”
“Yes. Or, no. Not really.” I rub the back of my neck. “I don’t know.”
He hums. “Allen won’t like that. Neither will the chief.”
Red crowds my vision at the thought. “Yeah? Good thing you’ll keep your fucking mouth shut, then, huh?”
He shakes his head, smile curling up his face. “Small town, Linc. And that girl just walked out of your house half naked and yelling. Doubt that’ll stay quiet for long. What the hell did you do to her?”
“Nothing.” I shove my hands into my pockets. “Was just… being myself.”
“That’ll do it. You ready to go? Allen’s got a briefing.”
I sigh, remembering that I need to change my fucking underwear. Because of her. The woman whose brother has got my balls in a vise. The woman whose pussy I can still smell on my face. On my fingers. Who I can’t stop picturing in my bed. Waking up beside me, spreading her legs for me. Maybe smiling at me instead of scowling. Looking at me like she did when she woke this morning, when we were in my truck last night, that first time at the station. Those moments where, for a second, she smiles, and I forget all the shit her family has put me through, that my life is utterly fucked because of the corner her brother backed me into.
But she won’t look at me like that again. Not after this last time. Like always, I did that thing I do—playing asshole. Not playing. I am an asshole. I just don’t know how to stop.
It’s a problem. And much like her brother, Grace Donovan’s got me by the balls.
I don’t know how to stop that either.
17
At the soundof an irritated sigh behind me, I glare over my shoulder at Triss.
“I said I was sorry,” I tell her as I turn back to my bike. “And I sent a text. What’s the big deal?”
