My fingers and feet were pruned by the time I managed to drag myself out of there. I was pretty sure that I used up all the hot water, but I didn’t give a shit. The memory of the angry Barbie doll standing in his driveway made my stomach clench as I towel-dried my hair.
For all I knew right now they were in Smoke’s bedroom having sex.
The thought made me feel like someone stabbed me in the stomach.
No, no more thinking about that. I had enough shit to worry about, thank you very much, without stressing over my obvious crush on exactly the kind of guy I didn’t want to have a crush on. After digging around under the sink I found a hair dryer and brush. The stuff I used in the shower was super awesome because when my hair dried it was a very shiny, silky light blonde. My hair is so straight and pale that some shampoos leave a residue, but this stuff made my hair unbelievably silky and almost platinum blonde.
I’d like to blame my super shiny new hair for my distraction, or the fact that the berry-scented body lotion I used had sparkles that made me glitter like a stripper, but the truth was I’d almost spaced out on the fact that I wasn’t alone in this house. A fact that became abundantly clear the moment I walked into the bedroom and found a big, bad biker clad just in his black t-shirt and worn jeans lying on the bed, watching me. He had his hands behind his head, which made his biceps bunch up in a distracting manner, and his expression was not pleased. For some reason I noted his bare feet and I found it unfair that he was so hot even his feet were sexy.
His voice had a rough edge to it as he said, “Were you tryin’ to hide from me in the shower?”
Flushing, I lifted my chin at him. “Make yourself at home. I guess I don’t get much privacy here.”
He arched one eyebrow at me, looking sinfully yummy. Blah, was I cursed to have a taste for criminals like my sister? Was I genetically predisposed to find losers hot? Then again, a loser didn’t own a home like this. Or the bitch that came with it. That made me angry and I placed my hands on my hips, all too aware of the black towel loosely wrapped around me. I didn’t want to put on my clothes from earlier that were all sweaty from the ride, but I needed to get some clothes on, some kind of barriers between me and Mr. Too-Fucking-Sexy who was giving my body a long, leisurely perusal.
I walked over to my backpack. “So, Smoke, care to get the hell out so I can get dressed?”
For a long, tense moment he stared at me, then slowly sat up. “That’s how you want to play it, babe?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m sorry, but my head fucking hurts from that bitch’s voice, I haven’t eaten, and I’m really fucking tired.” I dragged in a deep breath, on a bitching roll now. “Plus, I don’t know what the fuck is going to happen to me tomorrow, so excuse me if I’m just a little bit stressed out without throwing your pissed off wife or whatever the hell she is into the mess.”
I threw my hands up in disgust at his lack of response and the only thing he appeared to be paying attention to was my towel’s increasingly precarious grip. I was already showing a good amount of cleavage, and when I tugged the towel back up, he frowned. His gaze slowly rose to my face and when I looked into his dark, lust-filled eyes, I actually whimpered.
God damn it; I was cursed.
Cursed with the genetics to find dangerous losers super-hot.
The corner of his mouth curled up and he motioned to me. “Come here, baby girl, and I’ll take care of your headache.”
I rolled my eyes. “Seriously? You think I’m just going to let you touch me? Sorry, buddy, I don’t do other chicks’ men. Hell, I don’t do any men so you’re out of luck. When I do cash in my V-card I want it to be with someone who loves me, not some guy I don’t even know who may or may not be kidnapping me.”
He nodded thoughtfully, then motioned to me again. “Swan, come here. I promise I’ll take care of you, but I won’t have sex with you. I told you, babe, I want you begging for it when I take you. On your knees, crying, begging for my cock ’cause you know I’m gonna fuck you right, make you come, make you scream my name while you do it.”
I stared at him, stunned by his frank talk and even more surprised to find myself walking to him like he owned me. When I stopped at the edge of the bed he took my hand and slowly slid it down his chest until he held it over his heart. I loved the warm thump-thump beneath my fingers and tried to hide it by scowling at him. This only made Smoke laugh and when he slid his arm around my waist ... I’ll admit it, I was weak. I wanted nothing more than to have this man touch me, seduce me, and ease the ache inside of me that was growing more uncomfortable by the minute.