My eyes follow the line of her neck as one of her hands comes around and touches her throat. A faint trail of red smears over the damp skin in the hollow.
My blood.
Jesus Christ. I need to get the fuck out of here. My sexual proclivities rarely come into play. And I’m not about to let Kinsley see any deeper into how us drawing blood is getting to me.
She shifts off me when I nudge at her and steps back, still breathless and dazed. The anger melted away into the pleasure haze, at least until I rise, towering over her. I drag off the condom, tie it off and toss it at the trash can beneath the table beside us.
Taking a few steps back, she watches me zip up and adjust the shirt she fucking tore open. For a long, silent moment we stare at each other, then disdain fills her eyes again. Only I’m not so sure it’s me she is angry at now.
At least she doesn’t show regret. That would really piss me off.
This was a stupid idea, but it’s done and I’m over it. Or so I tell myself as I walk around her without a word. I don’t even look back as I step out of the little apartment and walk down the alley to the front of the church.
I should have let her fuck Cipher, because my head is filling with all sorts of dumb shit as I stomp toward the street. Movement has me drawing up short and reaching for my pocket where I keep a knuckle duster.
It’s the priest. He’s not wearing his robes or that white collar at his throat, it looks like he’s been out for a run.
He is watching me after flicking his eyes down the alley to Kinsley’s place. I’m not Nero or Stryker, I haven’t tried to be friends with this guy and won’t be judged by him.
Kinsley can deal with that fallout.
“She’s not like other women you’re used to,” he says.
I’m pretty sure he has no idea she’s too damn close to the kind of woman I crave. I won’t discuss how his precious cousin was the one who threw herself at me, who is happy to fuck a man she admits she doesn’t like. Or how her eyes lit up with dark lust when she saw my blood.
As fun as that would be, I’m not a complete sadist.
If he wants to say anything else, I’m not sticking around to hear it. He doesn’t stop me when I ignore him and walk away, heading toward the warehouse where my bike is parked. I need to get the hell away from here.
The further and faster I ride, the more I convince myself I cannot go near that woman again. A deeper part of me knows it’s too late.
She’s ignited something dormant in me with that one simple rip of her skin and then mine.
The problem is, she saw it too. And she liked it.
Chapter Nine
Kinsley
Colt is watching me. Even though I’m not facing him, I can feel the weight of his stare.
Last night, he knocked on my door a few minutes after Rebel left. At first, I thought it was him coming back and stood stock still not wanting to open the door after that encounter.
Then my cousin’s voice, asking if I was alright, broke me out of those spiraling thoughts of dragging Rebel back inside and I’d kicked my underwear under the chair, and dragged on my jeans.
He said nothing about seeing Rebel, but the timing of him leaving before Colt arrived was too close, they would have crossed paths.
“Do you know what you’re doing?”
“You don’t need to take my confession.” I’d snapped back.
Colt looked as if I’d pushed him, and I regretted it immediately. His eyes softened as he watched me gather myself, the shame sweeping over my whole body.
I didn’t know what to say, but he let me off the hook. He said goodnight, told me to lock up with a soft, understanding smile, then walked away.
Through all the events of the day, I’d forgotten that in the center of the whole storm taking over my head, Colt stood steadfast, holding it together.
Joe ishisfather, he is the one who has been forgotten by the man we both idolized growing up. Yet he looked at me with such understanding and compassion that it made me feel sick with guilt.
