Bad Wolf (Wild Men 4)

And my name spoken in his low, sexy voice is the last straw.

“Really? You went and robbed a store, and now you’re worried about me? How about not robbing that store? How about never joining a frigging gang in the first place?” I go and stand right in front of him, jab a finger into his hard chest. “How about being a good person?”

He looks down at my hand, as if having trouble understand what it is. “Gigi—”

“You know, I used to think you were so cool when I met you,” I hiss, pressing my finger against a rock-hard pec. “Quiet and a bit stoic, but good. Solid. But now? Now I don’t know what to think anymore.”

He grabs my hand, holds it tight. “I’m trying to save your goddamn life!”

“Oh wait, I get it. You just saved me, that it?” And just like that, anger flares once more. “That what you’re saying?”

He blinks, those pretty green eyes narrowing. “I told you, if they see you with me, if they think we’re friends…”

“We’re not friends.”

He flinches, a slight, almost imperceptible movement, and for a second my anger wavers. “Of course not,” he says, and then his face settles into hard lines. “And yeah, I saved your ass, Gigi. Or I’m trying to. What of it?”

“Guess I owe you payment for this, too?”

His eyes widen for a split second, then heat seeps into them. “Is this what got your panties in a twist, sweetheart? You’re dying to pay me back and don’t wanna say it?”

“What? No!” I’m suddenly aware of how close together we’re standing, how his rough thumb is moving in small circles against the sensitive inside of my wrist, sending shivers down my spine. “I don’t…”

Don’t even know what to say.

Because he’s right again. This, and every time—that I want him so much I can’t think straight.

This isn’t what I came here to do, but every time he’s around, rational thought flees my head and I’m just a hot mess of desire and need—for him. I swear I feel flames lick my skin.

Never been this way with any other guy. Figures I’d fall in lust with the one guy I shouldn’t want. In lust, and so much more.

With the pretty boy with shadows in his eyes.

The bad wolf of the neighborhood.

I gasp when he lifts my arm and puts his mouth on the inside of my wrist, a kiss, a brand, and his eyes are on me, a flicker of heat in their cores like the beating of wings.

Then again when he slips his other hand behind my back, pulling me against him.

“Feel this?” he rasps. “Do you want it?”

My lips part, but no words come. God, yes, I feel him, and want him, every inch of his hard, strong body pressed to mine, and his thickening cock, burning through our layers of clothes. That delicious masculine scent is everywhere, starting a fire in my belly. My pussy clenches, my clit throbs, and my breasts ache.

This is crazy.

“You think I’m the villain,” he says, and bends his head to mine, his breath a hot whisper over my lips, peppery spice and a faint hint of aftershave. “And you’re right. But you’re still here.”

I am, and I lick my lips as I stare at his mouth. I want him to touch me, to kiss me, to fuck me, and God, what’s this spell he has on me?

“Say something.” The shadows in his eyes deepen, lashes lowering until they hide his gaze, and his lips part, letting out an uneven breath.

I can’t. Can’t think, not when he’s pressed to me, his big, hard body, his hard cock, his muscular arm tight around my back, keeping me close. Keeping me here, with him, right where I want to be, where I find myself in my dreams and fantasies.

So instead of talking, I kiss him. Rising on tiptoes, throwing my arms around his neck, I slant my mouth over his.

For a long second, he’s still, his mouth as soft as I remembered, his taste exploding on my tongue. I lick at his lips, and he shudders.

Something like a growl escapes him, and suddenly I’m pushed against the wall and his tongue is in my mouth, his lips hard and insistent on mine. There’s nothing soft about his mouth anymore, about him. He’s all hard and unyielding, hot and burning.