Bossy(2)

He shakes his head slowly. “You know what? You can’t tell me what to do anymore. I’m fucking dumping you, Claire.” His words are slurred and hard to make out, but the gist comes across. He gestures clumsily, without coordination. “Yeah, I’m fucking dumping you. Bitch.”

Claire arches an elegant eyebrow, unimpressed. I want to trace the line of it with my lips as I drive into her from above. Fuck, I can’t remember the last time someone grabbed my attention like this. Right by the cock. I haven’t even touched her yet, and I’m hard as a fucking rock.

She continues, focused on her ex and totally unaware of the effect she’s got on me. “It’s too late, Michael. I already dumped you. I threw you out, remember?” She waves him off with a dismissive gesture. “Go home to... wherever it is you’re staying and sleep it off. Maybe you’ll remember why in the morning.” One last look, and she turns.

I love that. Soft and sexy, but not afraid to stand her ground. I wouldn’t mind that attitude aimed at me, not if it meant being able to fuck the sass out of her afterwards. Or during. I’m not picky.

“Don’t you fucking turn your back on me. Claire? Claire!”

What a sad fuck. Any chance he had left—which didn’t look fucking likely anyway—went out the window as soon as I got in the game.

They just don’t know it yet.

She stops, her brows knitting angrily. Her perfect tits rise and fall in time with her angry breathing and for a moment she gathers herself. Then she turns, her mouth already opening, probably to give that creep a piece of her mind. I lean back against the wall, crossing my arms over my chest. I can’t fucking wait.

That’s when he gathers himself and shoves past the wobbly frat guys at the door. You had one fucking job, wobbly frat guys. One fucking job.

He grabs her arm with more coordination than I’d give him credit for and growls at her, “C’mon. We’re gonna talk. I’m not letting you humiliate me like this.” He pulls hard, yanking her off balance.

She strains against him. “Let go of me! What the hell are you doing?”

Even wasted, he’s got too strong of a grip for her to pull away. His face twists in an ugly grimace and he sneers. What a fucking waste of oxygen. The guys playing at being bouncers back up, keeping their distance. Apparently door duty ends at the door.

“I’m taking you back to our place, and we’re going to fix this.”

I don’t know what he thinks he’s going to do, but I’ve heard lines like that before. They’re always trouble.

Claire looks like she feels the same, a little sliver of fear crossing her face for the first time. Her voice shakes even though her words are strong, “Michael, there is no our place. Not anymore. Not ever again.”

“Claire. Come on, baby. Of course there’s our place. Let’s get out of here.” He yanks her forward a step.

Time to make a move.

I step up behind him, bringing all of my bulk to bear. “I’d let go if I were you.”





Claire


Who the hell is this musclehead?

I’m sure I don’t know him, because there’s no way I could forget anyone who looks like that. His black t-shirt is painted onto his huge, muscular torso, covering his chest but not hiding even one tiny ripple of muscle. Yum. I’m not quite sure how he got the shirt on in the first place, but I bet women would pay money to watch the process.

Colorful tattoos wind their way down both of his arms, a mish-mash of spiky abstract designs melding with demons, predatory animals and busty women. They disappear into his short sleeves, and I want to categorize and identify each one like I’m doing a special for National Geographic on North America and the great endangered male badass.

Broad-shouldered and easily a head taller than my worthless ex, he’s snarling like a biker god of vengeance, and he’s just stepped in to save me.

Michael totally forgotten, I let my gaze explore up towards his face until I find myself looking right into the deepest, darkest blue eyes I’ve ever seen. They’re staring right back at me with an intensity that makes my stomach flutter. I could lose myself in them and they would just swallow me up.

It’s probably only a moment, but a whole eternity seems to pass before he looks away and I can breathe again. His full lips are drawn into a straight, angry line, his jaw tense and his dark eyebrows knit below a nearly black shock of unruly hair. A shiver shoots down my spine, and something much hotter pools between my legs.

He looks freaking amazing.

“Get the fuck out of my way, man.” Somehow Michael has remained unimpressed. Even sloppy drunk, he has to realize he’s woefully outgunned. Right? This guy can crush him.