chest.
“I get you’re this badass biker who throws his weight around and gets people to follow your every command, but you don’t get to come into my home and demand shit from me. I can’t control who comes into the diner but I have a say in who comes into my apartment and into my life—you don’t make the cut… Bulldog ,” she whispered. My road name sounding as if it was venom on her tongue.
I thought I was a goner when she called my God given name, but hearing my road name come from her mouth took everything to another level. Nothing else seemed to exist other than this woman before me and the unexplainable need to have her say my name over and over again.
“There you go riding on that high horse of yours again. Why don’t you do us both a favor and step off? I promise I’ll give you something better to ride,” I suggested, crossing my arms against my chest.
She glanced down, those electric eyes of hers zeroing in on my dick and then again she lifted them to mine, her lips curled in disgust.
“I’m not interested.”
I laughed, leaning in, feeling her breath on my lips. “Liar.”
I reached out, my fingertips tracing the length of her neck, twitching and begging to wrap around her neck and give her a little squeeze. Just a little one. Tiny. Miniscule.
I cupped the back of her neck, jerked her head back and forced her to look at me.
“Bet the house that pussy of yours is drenched for me,” I growled.
“I saw you,” she blurted, reaching behind her to brush away my hand but I tightened my grip on her. “I went to that place, that despicable warehouse of yours and I saw you ,” she stressed her last word, driving the stake deep through the skin, slicing through the demented exterior of my resolve.
She wrenched my fingers from her neck and took a retreating step backward.
“I convinced myself that I owed you an apology, that, maybe I had misjudged you. But I was on point the other night—actually, I wasn’t,” she corrected herself, shaking her head. “I thought you were just this guy who ran in the wrong circles but you’re much worse. I’m sure people gravitate to you, people who crave the high you give with your dirty mouth and your filthy ways. I’m not one of those people,” she sneered, glancing toward the door. “Now, I believe I’ve made myself perfectly clear so if you would just see yourself out we could forget you ever walked into Dee’s diner and that our paths ever crossed.”
She swallowed, took a deep breath and her hands trembled as she turned around to walk into her tiny kitchen, dismissing me.
No one dismissed Jack Parrish. No one. Certainly not some pretty little blonde with a golden cunt and a smart mouth.
She thought she knew me? Thought ten minutes in my compound gave her insight into who I was—she had no fucking idea. I’d make her head spin with what the last thirty-eight years on this earth consisted of for Jack Parrish. Then and only then, could this bitch judge me.
I stalked into her kitchen and watched her throw dishes into her sink, her hands still shaking.
“You don’t know me,” I ground out, causing her to turn around startled.
“I thought I asked you to leave,” she whispered, taking a deep breath as she gripped the edge of the counter and stared at me.
“I grew up with a mother who fucking hated me. I spent my teenage years running around doing fucked up shit, just to get her attention. It didn’t matter if it was negative attention or that it made her hate me more, all I knew was she noticed me whenever I did the bad shit. I got high on it, kept doing it, all the while trying to keep her interested in me. And then she and my father died because all the bad shit caught up with me and landed me in trouble. On their way to bail my ass out they were killed in a car crash.”
She stared at me quietly and for some reason I looked into her eyes and kept going, introducing her to the real Jack Parrish, leaving myself bare for her
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