by Paula Cox
He made his mouth bend in a smile, the easy-going, wanna-get-fucked smile that melted the panties of most of the women and more than a few of the guys that he'd known in his life.
"Sorry." He let his voice drop a few notes lower, imagining the sound caressing her along the undersides of her breasts and down into the sweet crevice between her thighs. "I just burst in here like I owned the place. I have somewhere to be and someone to impress, so I was hoping to sharpen up my look just a little bit."
He reached up and ran a hand over the uneven scruff at the back of his head. "I can see my beard well enough to keep that looking good, but back here? I can't see what the fuck I'm doing."
His fingers brushed against hers when he touched the back of his neck, and an electric shock of pure need ran straight to his dick. He was stiff against his thigh, and it hurt inside the denim.
She laughed, and unless he was completely teasing himself, there was a nervous thread of need in her voice, too. "What did you do, go after yourself with a pair of garden shears?"
She hadn't moved her fingers. In fact, she pressed them into his scalp, scratching up from the back of his neck, and holy shit, he was seriously wondering if he was about to come right then and there.
"Not far off," he said, and he was thrilled his voice didn't crack. "I wore it long for a long time, but I got a new job, and I had to clean up my act."
He closed his eyes again. When had that happened? Probably when he slipped into a vision of going down on her in this chair, her heels hooked neatly on this little metal rung while he fucked her with his tongue. That was probably it. He opened his eyes, and her lips were parted, staring at him, the top of her chest moving rapidly with her breath.
If she were anyone else, he would take her hand and pull her down over his shoulder. He'd rub her hand against the rod of iron in his pants and bite the side of her breast. He'd take whatever she gave him, and when he was done, he'd be on her way.
He'd hoped it would be that simple with Jessie. But of course it wouldn't be.
He'd been thinking about this girl every time he'd gotten hard for almost twenty years. That kind of shit wasn't simple.
"Understandable," she said.
He stifled a groan when she shifted, the nipples on her small breasts pressing into her neat little black top. He wanted her in his lap, he wanted to rut against her until she screamed, until he came in messy spurts all over those tiny tits.
"Do you want me to shave it clean, or just even it out?"
He felt the shift in her, the turn back to the professional. He didn't like it at all. He wanted the fantasies, the daydreams, the stories where pretty little good girl Jessie had grown up into a wild woman who would do filthy things with a man she'd never met.
Well, she'd never met him as far as she knew. He could make her put her hands on the counter where all her tools were stored, and back up into his lap, and he'd be able to fuck her right here. This way, every time she put some client in this chair, she'd think of his cock and get all hot all over again.
"Even it out," he said, and this time his voice did crack. She turned him inside out, and his cock was aching, leaking against his thigh, desperate to be buried inside a sweet, hot pussy that would clench and squeeze for him. Or, fuck, his fist would do, if there were nothing or no one else.
But no, he'd had the brilliant idea to walk into this salon with no prep time or forewarning and just...sit down like an asshole and demand she cut his hair.
"Okay," she said. He closed his eyes again, and heard her clippers buzz to life. Then her hand pressed against his scalp, pushing his head forward gently so she could get the clippers where he needed them, and he had to bite his lip to keep from moaning with delight.
She was good at her work; she moved efficiently, quickly, and steadily, and he felt the soft fluff of tiny bits of hair falling around his ears. Every time her fingers lifted off and then touched him again, whether they were bending down the top of his earlobe or repositioning his head at the right angle, it sent a pulse of need to his groin. He didn't dare open his eyes to look down; he just had to hope his erection wasn't too obvious, down the side of his jeans, and that the wet spot he could feel developing wasn't showing.
He wanted her. He wanted her so much he was on fire, but she wouldn't want him. There was absolutely no way she would ever want him.
The clippers went silent, and he made himself open his eyes. She was staring at him in the mirror again, her green eyes big, her pupils so dark he could hardly see her irises. "All done," she whispered. She picked up a soft dusting brush off the counter—her hand was shaking—and brushed the stray cut hairs off his neck and shoulders. And then she took one step back, wobbling on her heels like her knees had gone weak.
He caught one booted foot on the floor and turned himself around slowly, still facing her. He could imagine how he'd looked. One of his boys had caught a photo of him last year when he'd been relaxed and hungry, and he'd looked like a prowling cat. His hair had been wild and tangled, his beard a windblown mess, but his eyes had been ferocious.
Tex knew more than anything that he needed to stand up and walk himself right the hell back out of Jessie's life, just as fast as he'd walked in, but he also knew it wasn't going to be that simple. He'd been lying to himself for years, pretending it would be. Hell, he'd never thought he'd find her this fast. He'd never thought a girl with as much potential as Jessie had would still be living in this fake-cozy shithole of a town. Especially not once he'd heard what the Racketeers were up to.
He wasn't arrogant enough to pretend like he was going to ride into town on his chopper and fix everything. Likely things would get a lot worse before they got better.
That didn't matter right now. Right now, what mattered Jessie standing in front of him, her eyes fixed on his painfully obvious erection. Her chest was almost heaving now, her teeth closed on her lower lip. Was she imagining taking him into her mouth, letting him fuck her throat until he spurted? God, he hoped so.
"What would you do," he asked in that low, dangerous tone women loved, "if I told you to kiss me?"
"I might slap you," she said, a flush bursting across her cheeks. Her eyes were brighter, though, brighter than they had been before.
She stepped closer, and he shifted, letting the groan out this time as his cock scraped against the rough denim. Her lips parted, and he couldn't help but smile. Was this some kind of fantasy she had? Some daydream about a last minute customer coming in and forcing her into rough sex while any old biddy could walk by outside and see her, ass up in the air, cheeks red where he'd slapped her until she begged him for more?
He adjusted himself luxuriously, taking a long moment to squeeze himself, letting his eyes show how good it felt. "Would you? Would you slap me? Or would you fuck me right here, ride me like a goddamn pony?"
She wasn't even trying to hide her panting now. Christ, she was hot, his little Jessie he'd been dreaming about for so long. "Is that what you want?"
He stroked his cock again, relishing the rasp of denim now. "You come over here and see for yourself, baby," he said. And she did. Jesus Christ on a cracker, she did. She moved fast in those heels, and he caught her waist and pulled her across his lap. If she straddled him, he would have come in his jeans just from being so close to her. She didn't care, just wrapped her arms around his neck, and sealed her mouth over his.
Firecrackers went off in his head, and he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her angular body as tight against him as he could. He tried to keep his hips still, but his cock was on autopilot, grinding up into her ass as his tongue pushed into her mouth, plundering her. She opened eagerly for him, her fingernails digging lightly into his neck, and he groaned into her open mouth, so eager he thought it would break him.
He didn't have to do this. He didn't have to do the thing he'd come here for. He could forget it had all happened, take this girl—this woman—as his own, and make her happy. Let that be the penance he owed. Let that be the way he would make
his blood brother stop haunting him at night.
Except it would never work. He couldn't have Jessie. He didn't deserve her. At least, not yet.
She'd been scrawny before, and she was still scrawny now. It was nothing to stand up, holding her, and set her gently on her feet. He thought she'd step away from him, not mold that hot body along his, all angles to his planes, and now the length of his cock was pressed against the sharp tilt of her hip, and he was going to go mad, utterly mad if he didn't have her.
She was wearing a jersey skirt that came to her knees; it would be nothing to lift her up, tear off whatever panties she was wearing, and bury himself into her body. He could shove her against the wall and fuck her hard, muffling her gasps and cries with his mouth.
No. Christ, no. He wanted this so much, but this was not a thing he could have.
He moved away from her, feeling like he was tearing off a layer of skin that wanted desperately to stay close to her. Her eyes opened, and he couldn't decide whether her expression was more hurt or confused. It set up an ache in him, just below the solar plexus, that made him flinch. He didn't want to think about hurting her. He was about to hurt her a whole lot more.
"I'm here because of Danny," he said, then closed his eyes for the slap.
He knew it was coming. He didn't have to wait long.
The fact that it was a fist, though, was a surprise.
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More Books by Paula Cox
He left me broken and shattered.
I never thought he’d be back in my life.
I swore I wouldn’t give him a second look much less a second chance.
But that was before he came back like a whirlwind.
Not to sweep me off my feet, but to put me on my knees
JESSIE
It’s not every day that a ghost walks back into your life.
I did everything I could to put that horrible day out of my memory.
But with a single word, he brought it all back.
Brought it back and forced me to remember.
He tells me he’s back to right the wrongs of the past.
A second chance. A new start.
I should know better than to trust him.
After all… he broke my heart once already.
How can I be sure that he won’t do it again?
TEX
There was absolutely no way she should want me.
Hell, I wasn’t even sure if she still remembered me.
But I remember her.
There was no forgetting a girl like her.
She haunted my dreams for twenty years.
Left me hard more times than I can count.
I won’t pretend that I’ll fix the past and mend our wounds.
I won’t pretend that things won’t be worse before they get better.
But I nearly lost her once.
And now that she’s back in my life…
There was no way I’ll lose her again.
No way I’m ever letting her go.
Why bargain when I can buy her outright.
I’m a professional killer. Rescuing helpless women isn’t what I do. But when the daughter of my next target gets kidnapped and auctioned off, it was an opportunity I couldn’t pass up.
I’ll buy her and make her talk.
That was before I saw her. One look and I can’t tear my eyes away—can’t stop imagining her body pinned underneath mine.
One look and I know it’ll be impossible to keep my hands off her.
She thinks I’m here to save her.
She could not be more wrong.
I’m going to break my code. Then I’ll break her.
And show her what it means to be owned.
***
I was supposed to save his daughter, not keep her for myself.
When you kill for money, you know that your story probably doesn’t have a happy ending. But when I met Stella, I knew I might have a shot.
She’s everything I’m not… pure, innocent, and without a glimpse of how evil the world can be.
Her ex wanted her dead, her father wanted her safe.
Me?
I want her legs wrapped around me while she screams my name.
I want to save her so I can keep her for myself.
But all I did was put her in more danger.
Now I’m doing everything to keep her alive.
And when the dust settles, I’m going to make her mine…or die trying.
***
She was marked for someone else, but I’m taking her for myself.
I need a relationship like I need a bullet in the head—especially with a high-maintenance brat like Ana. The kind who’s got their head in the clouds instead of down here with the rest of us in the real world.
She thinks she can tell me what to do. She thinks she’s in charge.
I’ll tame her body, her mouth, her mind—and make her beg me for more.
One problem--her ex is a crazy bastard who thinks he can get her back by taking me out.
He thinks that I’ll give up what’s mine.
He couldn’t be more wrong.
***
I had every reason not to trust him
I should’ve known better than to let a brute like him into my life.
He turned my life upside down in the worst way possible: spread me open and took what he wanted—what I needed.
He wasn’t supposed to stay.
I wasn’t supposed to scream for more.
But when he holds me down and grinds his hard body into mine.
Makes me his possession and obsession.
Makes me forget who I am and what he is.
I can’t tell if this is all a dream come true.
Or if I’m trapped in living nightmare.
But as long as he’s by my side, I don’t ever want to wake up.
***
I SHOULD KNOW THAT I WAS PLAYING WITH FIRE
HOPE
Killian O’Connor was the chance that I never had. The glimmer of hope that I thought was gone. He makes me believe that everything will be okay.
He doesn’t hide what he is, and I should know better than to get close to him.
I should know that I was playing with fire.
We belong together, I know it and I’m sure he knows it too.
But then why is he holding back?
KILLIAN
This club is my life, my blood, my family.
I didn’t expect to drag Hope into it. But now that she’s here, I can’t get her out of my mind. The first taste of her lit a fire, and the second damn near burned my world down.
I can’t let her get too close. I can’t put her so close to the danger.
But when the same people who almost destroyed my life came after her, that’s when the gloves are coming off.
Because the safest place she can be is next to me, and this time, I won’t ever let her go.