“I don’t believe you.”
“Kinsley.”
Something about the way he says my name has my insides melting and my brain fritzing. Nope, not happening. The hot biker God will not take away my abilities to function with more than just my vagina leading the way.
“With all these questions, I could be worried you’re a plant, watching my club.”
“You showed up at my door with bashed in knuckles and covered in blood, asshole,” I pull my leg back, this time he isn’t fast enough to catch it, but he manages to lunge far enough to stop me getting off the couch.
“No you don’t,” he puts his upper body over mine, my legs trapped on the couch.
“Get off me. I don’t give a shit about your club, or you.”
That’s a lie, a thrill runs straight from my brain down between my legs. This is getting me wet and it makes me want to fight him even more.
“You’re a liar, little villain. There is a lot about me you give a shit about.”
“Maybe your dick,” I fire back.Don’t show him what he’s doing. “I don’t care about anything else.”
“Then why did you draw me over and over?”
“Fuck you,” I snarl in a low voice. That’s the warning sign with me. I don’t yell or get upset. I go quiet and intentional in what I have to say. Only I don’t know how to answer this time.
“You never ran from me. Are you going to start now, or are you going to admit what you want?”
“You were a means to an end, Rebel.”
He lets out a low laugh and grabs my wrist, pushing my hand back onto the couch, with the other, he reaches into his pocket and takes out a knife. My heart stops for what feels like a solid ten seconds. When it restarts, it’s thundering, beating too fast.
I should break my beer bottle over his head, throw him off and kick him out of here. But it doesn’t happen. My eyes are pinned to his as he trails the knife edge over my shirt, between my breasts, then curls it beneath my nipple.
The damn thing is sharp, one wrong move from me and he could slice right through my clothes to the bare skin beneath.
My body is a damn treacherous bitch because I’m not fighting. I drop the bottle, not caring its spilling beer over the floor.
“You’ve never told me to leave.” His gaze drops from mine to watch the knife as he moves it to the neck of my shirt and turns the sharp side inward, slicing through it. I’m losing too many shirts with this man.
“What do you want from me, Rebel?” I find my voice, stopping him in his tracks, even as I desperately want him to go on.
He laughs. “That’s not how this works.”
I flinch as the knife slices through the thin fabric, and his fingers push aside the two parts of the torn material, baring my chest to him. I’m only vaguely aware I am free to push him off.
“I don’t have the patience to dance around this.” My voice comes out shaky. “You’ve made it clear from day one you want nothing from me.”
“I came here for some peace. To get away from what I want to do.”
“Which is what?” I ask with a challenge in my tone.
We stare at one another in silence for a moment, his heavy breathing and the thumping of my heart the only sounds I hear.
Has he ever said anything like this to another woman? Don’t go getting stupid over it. He is using me to make himself feel better.
“Kill a man.”
My eyes widen and Rebel stills, staring straight into my soul, showing he means it. I’m no stranger to the darker side of life, and there are plenty of times I've wished I could do the things he is fighting so hard against. To the person who terrorized me.
It should freak me out, he admitted he wants to kill someone. I should, at the very least, ask who it is. It has to be the people threatening his club. Someone bad.
