Never Kiss an Outlaw(55)

Fifteen minutes later, we sat in front of a roaring fire, a glass of wine in my hand and a beer in his. He'd snorted when he looked at the fancy glasses lined up, ripping off the cap with his bare hands and drinking from the bottle instead.

“Sis keeps this place stocked to the fucking brim for all her rich friends. None of that shit ever appealed much to me,” he explained, taking another long pull on his brew.

I put my wine glass down, careful not to spill any. It felt like a wine tasting at a lodge, with all the fancy trimmings and Turkish rugs beneath us. I feared I'd break something just sitting there.

“How did she make so much money?” I asked. “I mean, if you don't mind me asking. I didn't picture you coming from this kind of family, Firefly.”

He swallowed the last of his beer and grinned, slamming his bottle down on the table. “I didn't. We never grew up rich, Hannah and me. She only turned into a hotshot entrepreneur about five years ago, when shit really started going her way. We both chose our trenches. Mine were in Afghanistan, and then all over Dixie, riding with the Pistols. Hers were spreadsheets, computer fuckery, kissing the asses of angel investors for a couple years before she got her app launched. Fuckin' thing must've made a cool million over a month or more, and then some.”

“Wow.” I sipped my wine, loving the quality.

“Yeah. She's got herself a nice little deal with that Ty kid up in Alaska now. You know, the rich techie Sterner fuck you see all over the gossip rags from time to time. Boy married his fuckin' stepsister, you know.”#p#分页标题#e#

I laughed and nodded. Of course everybody knew about the Sterner family and all their antics. For every dollar they earned, there must've been a gene for crazy. Except that girl he'd married, Claire, had gotten the fairy tale romance almost every girl dreams about. So the tabloids said, anyway.

“Truth is, I'm happy for her. Both of us grew up in a damned trailer park, our folks living check-to-check, never enough to go around. We barely talk anymore, me being so fuckin' busy with the club, and her being all biz. But we were close once. We both grew up dirt poor. Sis is doing me a solid, letting us hang here like this.” He looked up, the fire next to us dancing in his eyes. “You'd better believe she's the only chick I'd die for besides you, darlin'.”

I smiled, staring into the flames, watching them rolling softly in the fireplace.

“I hope you never have to,” I said. My heart ached when I thought about any pain coming to him because of me.

“Shit, girl, so do I. But I'm ready.” He stood, crossing to the little loveseat where I sat, joining me. “Nobody's ever gonna lay a finger on what's mine. I'm a jealous sonofabitch, yeah. Know how to take good care of everything I own, too. You're safe, babe, long as you stick with me. I'm not letting you go anywhere.”

His arm went around me, and I buried my face in his chest. Enjoying the cozy, warm, masculine cocoon around me was all I wanted for a night like this.

Well, except for one more thing...

My thighs tingled deliciously, meeting in the center where a whole new fire burned. I nestled in his arms, hiding my face against his perfect chest, until I couldn't take it anymore.

When I finally looked up, he read my mind. Firefly held my chin, letting me feel his strength as he pressed his fingers gently into my face. He held me there, poised for his kiss, which came hot, slow, and teasing as he brushed his lips against mine.

I couldn't stop the moan coming out when his mouth covered mine.

“Come on,” he said, lifting me up, into his arms. “Your eyes are bugging out at all this fuckin' glitz and glamor just sitting here. You're really gonna flip your shit when you see the bedroom.”

Oh, God.



He wasn't kidding. Jesus, did this man ever crack a joke? Ever exaggerate anything?

The room where we stayed was bigger than the apartment, and I'd thought that seemed like a lot of space for just him and I.

Here, we had our own sauna, a small bar, and a gigantic canopy bed all to ourselves.

He undressed me before we stepped into it and I watched him pull the curtains shut. A small, blue lamp switched on above us when he touched a button. We were suddenly deep in our own pure world of luxury and desire.

My mind raced a hundred miles an hour, and my heart tried to keep pace, enjoying the wild clash of this bad boy against the sophisticated backdrop. The Ruby Heel tried to emulate this atmosphere, sometimes. Only it came off ten times cheaper by its very nature as a strip club and watering hole for dirty men.

This was authentic. A prince was about to take me, and it didn't take much imagination to complete the illusion. Only this prince was harder, way more tattooed, and probably had a much filthier mouth than any spoiled bastard who'd ever worn a crown.