Slay (Storm MC 4)

His lips twitched, not quite forming into a full smile, but it gave me a

glimpse of what he’d look like if he actually did smile. I had no doubt that when Donovan Brookes smiled, it would open his face up into the most beautiful face I’d ever seen on a man.

“Surprised?” he asked, and he surprised me again with the playfulness I heard in his tone. Only slight, but I caught it.

“Twice. Don’t do it again or I might fall off my chair,” I joked. It’d be interesting to see if he played along. I wasn’t sure he had it in him.

His small smile spread across his face, and I was right. Donovan was the most beautiful man I’d ever met. My core agreed and desire shot through me.

Oh god, where was this leading?

“Duly noted,” he murmured.

I returned his smile. “Good.” I pushed my chair back and stood. “I should get back to work,” I said, even though it was the last thing I wanted to do.

He grabbed my wrist to stop me. His firm grasp sent more shivers through me as I imagined his hands on me, holding me. “You want me to have a word with Annie’s boyfriend? Sort him out so he doesn’t give her anymore grief?”

I knew what he was asking, and while I kind of liked the idea of that asshole getting sorted out by Donovan, I wanted to be there, too, because I had some words to say to him first. “As long as I can tag along.”

He was silent for a moment, and I could just imagine all the thinking going on in his head. I doubted his thoughts ever gave him a moment’s peace. “Okay, but you do what I say if shit goes south.”

He had a lot to get to know about me.

I ignored that and asked, “When?”

“Tomorrow. I’ll drop by about three and pick you up if that works for you?”

“Sure.”

Bring it on. I wasn’t sure if my excitement stemmed more from telling Annie’s boyfriend off or spending time with Donovan.

Chapter Six

Blade

I gripped the bathroom vanity and stared in the mirror. Fucking three am, and I was awake again because of another fucking dream. And, once again, sweat covered me.

Fuck.

I turned the shower on and stepped in. If only I could cleanse the bad memories from my mind as easily as the sweat from my body. Why the hell didn’t killing Bullet give me fucking peace? ‘Cause it sure as fuck hadn’t.

The night gave way to day as I dealt with my emails, phone calls, and meetings with Merrick and my boys. There was nothing out of the ordinary today. Three o’clock rolled around, and exhaustion called my name. But as I stepped through the front door of Layla’s bar, I felt pumped. The dual thoughts of seeing her and kicking someone’s ass if they needed it fuelled my newfound energy.

Thursday afternoon seemed to be a quiet time. There were only ten customers by my count. I slowed my approach as I made my way to where Layla stood at the bar. Her ass was on full display while she bent over picking something up from the floor. Fuck, her curves were sexy. My gaze stayed glued to them until she retrieved whatever she was after and straightened. She spun around on the spot and caught me staring at her.

“Fuck, do you always creep up on people like that?” she asked, her hand going to her chest and her eyes wide.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to frighten you,” I apologised.

She calmed herself down and waved my apology away. “No, it’s all good, I was in my own little world and then heard you. You didn’t frighten me, just made me jump a little.”

I followed her to the end of the bar where she had her bag. “You ready?” I watched her rummage through it like a madwoman. What the hell women kept in their bags was beyond me.

“Yeah, just gotta tell the girls I’m going out. I’ll be right back.” She slung her bag over her shoulder and ducked out of sight through a doorway.

Within a couple of minutes she was back, and I followed her outside. She came to a stop and I realised she needed to know which car belonged to me.

“The black Jag,” I said, pointing towards it.