Shielded Wrongs (Bellandi Crime Syndicate 4)

He closed the distance between us, and my instincts took over as my panic rose. When his hand reached for the sweatpants, my right hand whipped out to shove it away with the heel of my palm. Dropping the sweats, I struck with my left, barely missing his chin when he jerked his head back with some of the fastest reflexes I'd seen in all my years working at the gym. Considering I trained with professional boxers, it wasn't a compliment I gave lightly.

Instead of being pissed off by my display of violence, he grinned and knelt in front of me. Snatching up the sweats, I was momentarily disoriented by the sight of those intoxicating hazel eyes staring up at me. Of the twist to his lips with his face so close to my breasts.

He snatched up my foot and shoved it through one of the holes in the pants before I snapped out of it. Tearing it out of his hands, I stumbled when he didn't let go and lost my balance. He moved quickly, like some kind of devil, impossibly fast. By the time I was trying to vault myself off the floor, he'd already gotten my other foot in the pants and tugged them up my legs while I squirmed.

I trained women how to fight a man trying to take her pants off.

I'd never thought of a scenario where one might try to put them on, and I didn't know what the hell to do with that. Kicking out, I tried to catch him in the face, but he caught my foot in his hand and shoved a boot on without bothering with a sock.

That alone was wrong on so many levels.

"Let go of me, you tit stain!" I snapped, trying to kick him with my other foot. He repeated the process and gathered up my jacket off the back of my bedroom door while I pushed up to my feet.

This was ridiculous. I was not a weakling. I wasn't pathetic.

How he maneuvered my body to do what he pleased when I wanted the opposite was beyond me. It didn't take him long to slip my jacket on and zip me up while I stared up at him. "What the fuck are you?" I whispered.

"Yours," he murmured, touching my cheekbone briefly as I stood there in shock. Once he'd zipped me up, he grasped me around the waist and slung me over his shoulder while I kicked. My tote draped over his shoulder, he turned and left my bedroom in his wake. Strolling past the mess in my living room, he nabbed the key

s off the rack and switched off the lights as he went out the front door and locked it behind him.

"Put me down!" I punched him in the ass, wincing when the rock hard muscle seemed to deflect the blow. He wasn't human. There was no way he could be with an ass like that. I suddenly wanted to take a bite out of it.

He jogged down the steps, somehow jarring me on his shoulder very little and holding me still until he plopped me onto the seat of a Harley like he did it every day.

The wild child in me wanted to rub the supple leather and purr, but the pissed off woman refrained. Before I could stand, he cupped my face in his hands and stared down at me intently. "You're going to hold on tight. I will not be pleased if you fall off."

I closed my eyes, trying to tune out the stare that threatened to make me unravel. He was too much, too fast, too soon.

What in the ever-loving fuck was happening?

There was no way I could survive being around a man like that and not be reminded of all the things I'd never be able to have. I tapped my fingers on my thigh, drawing in a deep breath while I tried to center myself against the magnetic pull he seemed to have over me. There was no logic to it, and nothing that should have made him appeal to me.

"What are you doing?" he asked, and his laugh coated my skin with the faintest tingle. That anticipation that came before sex built inside me in response.

And not just any sex.

Good sex.

"Cursing you," I lied.

"And what kind of curse are you putting on me, Carina?" he asked and warm, minty breath fanned over my cheek when he leaned closer.

"May your left sock always be wet."

He threw back his head, rich laughter rippling up his throat until the intoxicating sound filled the city street with warmth. “Just the left?”

“Yep. More annoying that way,” I agreed. Grabbing a spare helmet from the saddlebag, he dropped my tote down in its place. Sliding the helmet over my head, he tilted my chin up to secure the strap underneath it and pull it tight. Maneuvering himself onto the bike, no simple task with me already sitting on it, he tugged on my hands until my arms wrapped around his waist and pulled on his own helmet that he grabbed off the handlebars. He started up the engine, bringing it to a rumble beneath me that I felt in every part of my body.

Shit.

I was so fucked.

9

Sadie

The gates closed behind us, locking us inside a fortress of a gated community. Other homes with perfect lawns stretched out on either side of the narrow road that wound around the corner as we went further into the neighborhood.