Resist Me(32)

I laughed, picturing her pissed-off sneer as she looked at her phone and read my message.

Me: I can’t stop thinking about you.

Sexy Fugitive: Creep.

I typed with a dopy-ass grin on my face.

Me: Only for you, doll.

I didn’t have to add in the nickname she claimed to hate, but I thought I’d clue her the fuck in if she didn’t already know it was me.

Sexy Fugitive: What do you want, James?

Me: You.

What more could I say?

Sexy Fugitive: Well…you know where to find me.

I stared at the screen with my eyebrows knitted together, rubbing my chin. Was this an open invitation or was she busting my balls?

Me: You can’t resist me forever.

Sexy Fugitive: Catch me if you can.

Me: Catching isn’t the hard part… It’s keeping you that’s the challenge.

Sexy Fugitive: You seem to be the type of man who doesn’t take no for an answer.

Me: I always get what I want, Izzy…always.

Sexy Fugitive: Smug bastard.

I laughed. No matter what she called me, I knew she liked me. Even when her words were venomous, I still knew. She tried like fuck to deny the connection we had, the electricity that flowed through our bodies when we touched, but I felt it.

Me: You know you want me…

No quick response came from Izzy. With an aching dick so hard it was ready to break off my body, I crawled out of bed. I put on some clothes and set my sights on her. I had the weekend off, and the last thing I wanted to do was spend it in this sleepy Florida town. I wanted her and I couldn’t stay away any longer.

Izzy Gallo would be mine tonight.

As I locked my front door and headed for my bike, my phone beeped in my pocket.

Sexy Fugitive: I can’t talk now. I’m working.

I wasn’t surprised by her text. She never wanted to admit her attraction to me. The entire time I spent with her last weekend had been a barrage of bullshit denying what her body betrayed.

Me: When do you get off?

Sexy Fugitive: As often as I want.

Fuck. My dick hardened, straining against the denim, as I thought about the sounds she made as she came.

Me: On my way…

Just as I was about to shove my phone in my pocket and climb on the bike, she replied.

Sexy Fugitive: Now?!?!

Me: On my way, and I won’t take no for an answer this time. I’m bringing my handcuffs too.

Sexy Fugitive: Fuck.

Me: Two hours, Izzy, and you’re mine.

I didn’t wait for her reply. I put the phone on vibrate, placing it in my back pocket. Throttling the engine, I thought about her screaming my name, and took off toward the only woman who felt right in my arms.

She’d be mine tonight.

Her days of running were over.



I pulled into Izzy’s drive just after midnight. Her sleek black Infiniti sat in the driveway, and the front porch light illuminated my pathway to her pussy.

I almost expected her not be home. That would be something she’d do. She’d avoid me and play hard to get, denying herself the one thing she was too stubborn to admit.

I turned off my bike, stretching as I climbed off, and then secured it for the night. I didn’t plan on leaving until the next morning at the earliest, but I hoped to stay the whole weekend.

It was rare for me to have this kind of time off in my line of work, but since returning from Bike Week, the club had been lying low and things had been calm. I’d been told by my supervisor to take some R&R for the weekend and be ready to hit it hard when I returned on Monday. His ideas of R&R were different than mine—mine did include hitting it hard. I planned to fuck Izzy until she couldn’t even remember her name, let alone her smartass attitude.

I knocked gently, trying not to startle her even though she knew I was on my way. I heard voices and rustling inside, and I leaned in, trying to hear their words.

“You better get the hell out of here,” Izzy said, her voice muffled by the thick wooden door, but I could still make them out.

My heart started to pound so hard I felt like I’d just run a forty. My mind started to race with thoughts that someone was inside and it wasn’t me.

“Izzy!” I yelled as I banged on the door. “Open up!”

“Go, Flash. I won’t ask again!” Izzy yelled, quieter this time, but loud enough that I heard with my ear pressed up against the door.

Hearing his name made my blood run cold. I knew exactly who the little prick was. Flash was a prospect in the MC Thomas had been working undercover in for over two years. Flash was also the cocksucker who’d brought Izzy to Daytona and thrown her to the wolves.

“Fuck no,” he replied. “I’m staying right here. We’re going to have a little chat.”

I’d had enough. I was getting in the house if I had to bust down the motherfucking door. Leaning back, I shouted, “Izzy, I’m going to bust this door down if you don’t open the fuck up!” I pounded on the wood, the door jumping under my fist.