Convict (Sin City Salvation 2)

Sparks short-circuited my nervous system as I curled my fist into his shirt, parting my lips and drinking him in. He tasted of sweet mint and smelled of leather and cloves. It was my first real kiss, and I was fucking high. My fingers scraped up into his hair, twisting the locks at the base of his neck as I tried to pull him closer. I was already on my toes, and I wanted to climb him. I wanted his body against every square inch of mine, and the desire was completely foreign to me.

Heat expanded into my belly, melting down between my thighs as my hips rubbed the hard flesh poking against me. I could smell his arousal, wild and masculine. He wanted me. He wanted me so much he swallowed every torturous sound that escaped my lips like he owned them.

And then, abruptly, it was all over.

“Birdie.” He reared back like I’d burned him, peeling my hands away as he tried to catch his breath. I waited for what inevitably came next—his rejection—but he just looked at me and shook his head. “Not here.”

I assumed that meant it was time to go back to his house, but instead, he led me into the fray of the clubhouse, which had grown more congested in the past thirty minutes.

“Let’s grab a drink,” Ace said, his eyes avoiding mine.

He’d just spun my world out of orbit with a kiss that would wreck me for anyone else, and now he wanted to grab a drink? I was still coming back down to earth, trying to make sense of this insanity as he led me up to the bar.

“What do you want?” He turned to me in question, his face devoid of any obvious emotion. Just like that, he’d returned to his unruffled self while I still felt like I was on a roller coaster.

I tried to think of what I’d normally drink when I was out. Even though I wasn’t of age, I had a fake ID, but I never had to use it. Most people assumed by the way I carried myself I was well over twenty-one.

“What kind of red wine do you have?” I asked the woman behind the bar.

Her lips tilted in amusement as she shook her head. “We’ve got liquor, beer, and whiskey, sweetheart.”

My eyes moved over the inventory as a flush crept down my throat. I felt out of my element, and I couldn’t tell if she was mocking me. A familiar flutter of irritation sparked inside me, and I tried my best to tamp it back down. Beside me, Ace seemed aware of my feelings, which surprised me, but not as much as what he did next.

His hand found the base of my neck, fingers lightly grazing the skin there as he leaned closer. His warmth calmed me in a way I didn’t expect. “How about a Disaronno on the rocks?”

I nodded on autopilot, but internally, I was wondering how he knew what I liked. Then the photos came back to mind. Had I ever ordered that in front of Trouble? I couldn’t recall a time that I had. Disaronno was a special occasion for me. Something I usually reserved for the quiet moments when I was alone and in my thoughts.

“Good choice.” The bartender nodded. “An Old-Fashioned for you, Ace?”

He jerked his chin and thanked her, and we took a seat at the bar. Silence bloomed in the space between us, and I wondered what was going through his mind. I didn’t have much time to consider it before another familiar face appeared beside us. I’d seen the guy around here earlier. He was tall, built, and handsome in a rugged way. I guessed that was the point of the whole Beards of War theme. The tattoo on his forearm read Kodiak, and I assumed that was his club moniker.

“Hey, brother,” he greeted Ace with a nod. “Good to see you.”

Ace grunted out a response just as the bartender returned with our drinks and slid them over to us. Kodiak ordered a beer for himself and then stretched his hand across the bar to me.

“I won’t wait for this crotchety fucker to introduce us. I’m Kodiak.”

I offered him a polite smile and a handshake, noting that Ace’s gaze lingered on the connection, his spine rigid. “Birdie.”

“Pretty Birdie.” Kodiak winked at Ace as he squeezed my palm in his. “I like that.”

He held on for a few seconds longer than necessary, and I wondered if he was intentionally taunting Ace or if he was actually flirting with me. When he finally let go, he leaned against the bar and took a sip of his beer, his eyes bouncing back and forth between us.

“What happened to Kylie?” he asked. “I saw she bounced early tonight.”

My fingers grew rigid around the glass in my hand as I waited for Ace to answer. It was a question I had intended to ask myself, and his response could send me plummeting over another emotional cliff I wasn’t prepared for.