Free Wild Ones (The Lane) by Kristine Wyllys Page B

mind-blowing sex on every available surface in every possible position until we finally collapsed on the bed that I was currently sitting in.
    A bundle of clothes landed in my lap with a soft thud, jerking me out of my thoughts.
    “Put ’em on,” Luke ordered gruffly, adjusting the obvious bulge in his pants without even an ounce of shame. “Or I’m gonna be late, sugar.”
    I could feel myself grinning, all cat-who-caught-the-canary-like. Stretching my arms up over my head, I made a show of working out kinks in my back that weren’t really there. I climbed off the bed and, with deliberate slowness, pulled on my panties then the boxers he’d tossed to me. When I was done, I straightened and feigned looking for my bra.
    “Sugar.” It was a low threat, a warning, and I grinned wider, not bothering to hide it.
    “You’re the devil,” he muttered, stepping forward to close the space between us. Without my heels, I was eye level with his chest. A patchwork of various-sized scars marred the otherwise smooth flesh and I frowned, reaching out to trace a particularly jagged one that zigzagged across his left pec.
    “Occupational hazard,” he grunted before jerking a wifebeater over my head, effectively breaking the contact between my fingers and his skin.
    My eyes flashed up to his as I slipped my arms through the holes of the tank, scowling at him.
    “Boxing?” I asked and disgust laced the question.
    “Yup.” It was a challenge, a dare, a push to charge if that was what I was going to do.
    My nose wrinkled with distaste but I said nothing. We were a pair of untamed alpha wolves who banded together in the same den for a night. Guarded, tasting the slight hostility in the air, waiting for the other to make the first move, to attack now that the night was over and the sun was shining.
    When I didn’t start chucking anything within reaching distance at his head, he switched gears.
    “You work tonight?”
    I stared at him blankly for a minute while his question sank in, then nodded.
    “Okay,” he said.
    “Okay?”
    “Okay.”
    I was still staring up at him and realized how close we were standing. Practically flush. I frowned, thinking of the night before and how we had subconsciously drifted down the darkened hallway at Fury’s. Every encounter I’d had with this boy, as few as there had been, this had happened. Like two magnets, we seemed to keep finding ourselves drawn to each other, responding to some unseen pull.
    But hell if I was stepping back or away. Whatever it was about him that spoke to something in me, I wasn’t gonna fight it. Even if it was a sirenlike call, if sirens were hard-bodied, messy-haired men who reeked of sin and dangerous promises, leading me headfirst into a lake of fire.
    “I gotta go. Training.” His voice was low and husky, his eyes dark. “Want a ride to your car?”
    “Wasn’t planning on walking.” God, my voice was just as thick.
    He grinned at me and it was a shock to my system, a bolt of electricity that traveled along my bones. The underlying aggression was still dancing between us, the lust, and that Machiavellian smile on his face. The combination was just as lethal as he was. It excited me.
    I knew I should get the fuck away from him. Run to his truck, throw myself in and demand he break every traffic law until I was safely tucked behind the wheel of my own car. I needed to go because I still wanted him. The sex, yes, but specifically him. This boy I allowed to kiss me and take me back to his house. This boy who was what I hated but couldn’t seem to say no to.
    Instead of fleeing like I should have, I stretched up on my toes, laced my fingers behind his neck and crashed my mouth onto his. It was a brutal assault, punishing in its force.
    His hands shot out to grip my waist and against my lips I could feel, rather than hear, him mumble, “Fuck it. I’ll be late.”
    * * *
    We both ended up late, him more so than me. He was grumbling something about extra rounds in