Adrenaline Rush (Death Chasers MC 4)

With somewhat angry motions, I hurriedly dress, groaning every time another sappy confession comes back to me.

I wanted to marry you and have babies back then. You know, before I realized exactly how screwed up I was.

“Fuck me. He never said anything back. That ass just let me run my mouth and would grin.”

Scrubbing a hand over my face, I hesitate walking out when another confession slips into my mind.

Your dick is the perfect size. I love it. I always have. I missed it too. I tried to find a vibrator to replicate it. I didn’t have any luck.

“Why, Kara? Just why?” I ask myself on a huff.

Annoyed with my own damn self, I jerk the door open, and…pause.

The knife is still stabbed into the door, and the note is still there. It’s not quite the simplistic request Rush made it seem to be.

Anyone who knocks will get shot.

I’m serious.

Deadly serious.

I’ll fucking shoot you and laugh about it.

—Rush

Excessive and crazier by the second.

Unbelievable.

I walk on out, taking a deep, fortifying breath.

I can hear the chatter coming from the kitchen, mostly Drake speaking.

“I’m saying I have a penis. At some point, someone with a penis should realize what a shit job it is to be stuck with the vagina squad during intense situations. I feel unappreciated, honestly.”

I roll my eyes, and I barely even know the guy.

“Do you want to roll with us, Drake?” Axle asks, sounding completely dry and humorless as always.

“Fuck that racket. I just want to ink shit and quit getting shot at,” Drake grumbles as my eyes immediately collide with Rush’s.

The dark hair is pinned back with a backwards ball cap, and a smug grin is on his face as he bites into an apple, his feet propped on the chair next to him. His eyes move with me, smirk still fixed to his lips, as I ignore him the best I can.

“Why are you five shades of red? You should be green, not red,” Sarah grumbles from her perched position near the cabinets.

She’s wearing sunglasses inside and is guzzling from a mug that has a bloody knife image on it. She lifts the mug toward me in a toasting gesture, and then begins drinking from it again.

I can feel Rush’s eyes burning a hole in my back as I make my own cup of coffee from the steaming pot.

Maya is in Axle’s lap, curled up like a doll and sleeping, and he’s acting like it’s a normal thing for her to do, given his easy position.

Rush pats his lap when he catches me staring, and I give him a small glare as his grin widens.

I’m going to be mercilessly mocked.

Even your feet are sexy. It’s like there’s not an inch of you that doesn’t have sex appeal. And I miss the way you used to hold me against you, so I’ve been purposely pressing against you at night, and even find your control issues sort of hot.

Kill. Me. Now.

The more memories that flood to the forefront of my mind, the harder I want to die a little from the sheer humiliation.

His eyebrows dance for a minute as he stares at me over the rim of his orange juice glass. An exaggerated sound of pleasure comes from him as he drinks the orange juice, likely mocking how very verbally I voiced my own pleasure last night to the point of exaggeration.

I screamed his damn name. Why did I do that? That’s not something people really do. That’s just a romance novel thing.

It takes a concentrated amount of effort not to palm my face and groan aloud.

“By the way, you two were entirely too fucking loud last night,” Drake cuts in, causing me to turn a little redder.

Please don’t let him have heard the actual words. That’s the embarrassing part.

“Hear anything interesting, Drake?” Rush quips in his wry tone, as he lifts his apple back up to his mouth, never taking his eyes off me.

“A lot of mewling and dick worship. Fucking ridiculous,” Drake says, glancing up from his phone to give me a pointed look. “For the record, mine’s pierced in a lot of fun places, and does way more tricks than his. I highly doubt it’s as special as you made it out to sound,” the prick adds.

That’s it. I may as well put a potato sack over my head at this point.

Axle chokes on his drink, clears his throat, and stares at his phone like he’s lost interest with this entire breakfast table. He’s a pretty serious guy. Drake isn’t, and for some freaking reason, he’s the conversational type.

“Ply her with liquor, and she’s very generous with her compliments,” Rush tells Drake.

“I’ve seen her drunk aplenty, and she’s usually not nice,” Axle states without looking up from his phone.

“You’re not as special as I am,” Rush tells him with that smirk back on his face.