And judging by the way she'd reacted, Corinne was one of those, too. She had a temper to her, just like her pops. At first glance, I'd thought she'd be all kinds of meek and mild, especially with how she was just sitting around and bawling on the edge of that sidewalk. But something in me had really set off something in her, and she'd turned into a real she-devil right quick.
I had to admit, I kinda liked it. There were too many women in this world willing to just lie down and take it. I preferred to be around the ones with some fight to them. Corinne seemed to have that. Her daddy must've raised her right.
"Here we are, your highness," I said. She didn't wait for me to help her off the bike. Instead, she leaped to the ground and glared at me as she smoothed her clothes back into place. I tried to stop myself from looking at her body, but there was never any hope of succeeding at that. I raked my eyes over her from head to toe, and it was a strenuous effort not to whistle out loud. She was put together like a work of art. And in that outfit, too, she was something out of this world. Her frame was petite but strong, and those curves were just begging for a touch.
I blinked and shook those thoughts out of my head. I'd have to have a death wish to go anywhere near Corinne. She was the president's daughter, after all. Laying a finger on her would cost me my left nut, if not both of them. I liked the way I was just fine, thank you very much. Still, I couldn't deny that the temptation was there.
"That was pretty rude, you know," she said, pouting with her hands on her hips.
"Sorry, darling. Had to do right by the patch, you know." I patted the Inked Angels insignia on my jacket. "Your daddy would've had me strung up if he found out I'd left you crying in the gutter by yourself."
"I have a name," she said. "And it's not ‘darling.'"
I swung my leg over and sat leaning against the bike. "Fair enough," I said. "No more ‘darling,' then."
"It's Corinne."
"I know that. You told me already. I ain't stupid, despite what you seem to think."
"You're not stupid."
"Huh?"
"You said ‘ain't.' That's not a word. You should have said, ‘I'm not stupid.'"
"Honey, you are one brash little girl."
"Corinne."
"What?" I sighed, exasperated.
"You called me a name again. I'm not ‘honey.' I'm Corinne."
I laughed and shook my head. There was no winning with this girl. She seemed determined to bust my balls until they were black and blue. I held up my hands. "Okay, okay, I surrender. Corinne. I'll never call you anything else."
"Good," she snapped. I wondered why she was hesitating out here with me instead of going inside. She started to say something else, then fell silent.
Without warning, a huge yawn ripped through me. I tried to stifle it, but it came out regardless. When the tears cleared from my eyes, I saw Corinne's face softening. "You look tired," she commented.
"Been a long day."
She gnawed at her lip. "Do you, um … want a cup of coffee, or something?" she offered hesitantly. "For the ride home?"
I paused. If I didn't know any better, I would've thought that Corinne was hitting on me. But I brushed the thought aside and buried it deep. I just could not allow that line of thinking to gather steam. I would end up in an awfully sticky situation if I let this get out of control.
But my eyes flicked down once more over her skinny hips and the tight curve of her ass. "Just one cup," I said. "Then I'll get out of your hair."
She nodded and turned to go inside. I pulled the keys out of my bike and followed behind her. It was impossible to keep my eyes off of the waggle of her ass. I just wanted to take a bite of it. A creeping feeling in my stomach told me that this was headed in a bad direction, one we both might end up regretting.
She unlocked the door and held it open for me to go inside. I passed by her. As I did, my hand swinging by my side grazed hers and our eyes locked at the same time. I almost jumped. It felt like an electric shock passed between us, from me to her and her to me. There was no mistaking the fire in those eyes of hers. It was the same one that had taken to raging deep in my gut. The fire of want. Need. Desire.
Fuck, I thought I'm gunning for trouble. But I just couldn't stop myself.
Chapter 8
Corinne
We sat across the table from each other, steaming mugs of coffee clasped in our hands, hardly daring to make eye contact. It felt like the room was maybe a thousand degrees, judging by how hard it was to draw a satisfying breath. I could barely glance at Croak for a moment without feeling a hot blush rise in my cheeks. The air was thick enough to slice and serve.
I wanted to say something, anything, that would break the tension. But I knew that words wouldn't be enough. It had to be something else: his touch.
I tried to reason myself out of the situation. He works with your dad, I counseled myself. He's older. He's an asshole. Each of those things might have been true, but together, they were tiny little matchsticks compared to the inferno burning all along my skin and between my legs. It was an achy, agonizing fire, one that got worse the more I thought about it. Weird, half-formed visions of Croak's lips and his hands kept flashing in front of my eyelids every time I blinked. I felt like I was losing my mind.
And yet here we were. Neither of us had touched the coffee. In fact, we hadn't said a word since we'd first stepped into my apartment. The only thing I could hear was the deep, steady slush of his breath in and out of his chest.
"Why did my dad call me tonight?" I asked quietly without looking up. "He told me I needed to be especially careful."
I heard Croak hesitate. "There's a guy who, let's say, works for us from time to time. He's a, um … a businessman, you might call it. And apparently, he's lost his cool a little bit. Been saying some crazy things. I'm sure Growler's just worried the guy might do something stupid. That's all."
"What's his name?"
"I'm not sure I should tell you."
"You can tell me."
He took a long pause. "Ricardo," he said eventually.
I repeated it. "Ricardo."
"Yes."
"He's a drug dealer, right?" I looked up at Croak, who hadn't yet answered. "He is, isn't he? That's what you mean by ‘businessman'?"
Croak nodded.
I took a sip of the coffee. "And what do you do?"
He shrugged. "Whatever needs to be done."
"Do you hurt people?"
His eyes flashed again, an inscrutable sheen sliding across them. He looked steely all of the sudden, his teasing calm replaced by a centeredness that verged closer to icy. It sent a shiver down my spine. "Sometimes," he said in a near-whisper. "If they need to be hurt."
I could feel my hands trembling. I was in the company of someone who did bad things from time to time. I knew my daddy had done things, maybe even hurt people, too, but he'd never come this close to admitting it directly to my face. Whenever I asked him straight questions, he always deflected, too worried about protecting my innocence.
Croak didn't give a damn about protecting my innocence. If I had to guess, I'd say he was more interested in corrupting it.
"I should go," he said, standing suddenly. His chair scraped against the kitchen floor.
I stood up with him. The kitchen was small and cramped, so that when we were both standing, we were no more than a couple feet apart. I felt the hint of his breath, could smell his scent. It was overpowering - sweat, engine smoke, cologne, all mixed together in a delicious cocktail. I drank it in. My thoughts faded away and my lips moved on their own.
"What else do you do?" I asked. My voice was shaky and soft. "When you're not hurting people, I mean." I took a tiny step towards him. His fingers found mine.
He gazed down at my upturned face. The steeliness of a moment earlier had vanished. Now, in its place, was the heat of serious desire. I could see it and feel it in him. I knew he saw and felt mine, too. His eyes churned with it.
"Sometimes, I bring them pleasure."
Croak's lips descended slowly to mine. They met, brushed against each other lightly, barely. His fingertips tapped against my wrist as he pulled away and looked at me one more time.
Then the tension shattered.
Our mouths crashed together, hungrily devouring each other. Our tongues delved and stroked, our lips meshed, our hands scrabbled over and under one another's clothing, desperate for a touch of heat, a touch of skin. I felt consumed by how badly I wanted him all over me and inside me. I wanted to fold myself in his arms. I wanted his bulk, his smell, his tongue. I wanted everything he had to offer.
Croak picked me up and set me on the table. I locked my heels behind the small of his back and my hands behind his neck, drawing him into my embrace. My breasts pushed up on his chest as he leaned forward. My mouth was stretched wide open to accommodate his kiss.
His hands pawed at my sides. They found the zipper of my black crop top and slid it downwards. I sighed as the restrictive material loosened and freed my breasts for his palms to grope and fondle. A soft moan escaped from my mouth into his.