I needed to touch her skin. All her skin this time. I wanted to lay her down and worship every inch of her.
The guys back at the clubhouse might think this was all one big joke but it wasn’t to me.
“Fang.” Gypsy pulled away her fingers pressed to her swollen lips. “You can’t just come in here and kiss me and…” stepping away, she turned her back to me. Her shoulders heaving as she struggled to catch her breath.
“Why?” My voice made her turn back to me.
I stalked towards her and her eyes tracked my movements.
“B-because...” Stuttering, her cheeks flamed.
“That isn’t a reason, Sunflower. You can't say you don’t want me.”
“I’m attracted to you, yes. But that doesn’t mean you can show up here and kiss me whenever you feel like it, Fang. We are business partners I would prefer...”
I didn’t let her finish, my eyebrows arched. “You would prefer?” Sarcasm dripped from my voice. “Say no more, Gypsy, it won’t happen again.”
“Fang, it’s not like…”
I shook my head. I’d been a fool to go there, to throw myself at her feet like some kind of lovesick puppy starved for attention. Gypsy wasn’t anyone important. She sure as hell wasn’t the hottest woman I had ever been with. She would never measure up to Corinne.
“Half the club is going on a run; we won’t be back for at least a week. Any problems you tell Bobby, and he will get in touch with us.”
“Bobby?”
“Your new bartender.” I snapped. “Oh and Sunflower? This one stays. Do you understand me? You won’t go firing any more staff without my approval. Is that understood?”
She opened her mouth to argue back and then shut it again. Her nod was small.
Any heat that was between us vanished, replaced by open but silent hostility,
“Yeah, I get you.” Her lips curled. “Have a safe trip.”
12
Gypsy
“So you and Fang, hey?”Bobby, the Drunken Otter’s former bar manager and my newest recruit, flopped down into the chair opposite me, stretching his long legs out under the table. He had a bottle of whiskey and two glasses in his hands.
Usually, I would have a problem with any member of staff helping themself to the liquor on my shelves, but after what had been the shift from hell, I was just glad he was there.
As much as I hated to admit it, Bobby was a good fit for us. He knew the bar, was friendly with the regulars and was burly enough to deter even the most intoxicated asshat who thought they could smash up the place.
For the most part anyway.
That night had been a little different. It seemed it didn’t matter whether it was a town or city, drunk college boys were the absolute worst.
My legs ached, my arm was bruised where one particularly persistent man child had grabbed at me and I was in need of a very large drink.
I raised my eyes to him. “Me and Fang what?” Motioning with my hand for him to pour the drinks, I lapsed into silence.
Me and Fang.
Was there even a me and Fang? Sure there was chemistry there. Lots of it. But he was pretty much everything I hated in a man. The kind of man who thought a woman’s place was in the kitchen, with her hair curled and her legs spread ready for him.
We were total opposites.
And yet every time he kissed me, his big body manhandling me to where he wanted me it was like I couldn't breathe, he made me breathless in a way that should have made me run for the hills.
