The cover is pushed halfway down her waist, and the curve of her ivory, smooth ass is very visible, since she apparently approves of torturing me with her body. Naked underneath my shirt.
It’d be easy to push her up onto her knees and put myself out of my misery. Very fucking easy. Too fucking easy. Suspiciously easy.
Inwardly cursing her, I toss the covers off me and adjust myself in my boxers as I stand up and tug on some jeans. I spent an extra thirty minutes in the shower last night just to deal with the never-ending state of arousal I’m in.
But let’s face it, fucking her would be a mistake of epic proportions. No girl runs her eyes over my body like it’s the best thing she’s ever seen. In fact, no girl at all looks at me once my clothes are off.
I realize people think that chicks dig scars, but not on a scale as massive as this. I know that for a fact.
There’s usually immediate hesitation, then subtle grimaces—if they’re nice about it. Or there’s a request to turn off the lights if they decide to go through with it to become a good little club whore.
Never do they tell me they want me more when they see the full amount of disfigured marks—a more accurate depiction than simply calling it all scars. Never do they spend seven days trying to tempt me in every way possible.
So what does she want? What’s her angle?
I glance back, seeing Maya stir in the bed. It’s always like she knows the second I’m out of bed, because she wakes up within a few minutes. Hence the reason I’m rushing through the motions of getting dressed.
I’m trying to put space between us, but with no extra rooms available right now, she’s gotta stay with someone. And for whatever reason, I can’t stomach the idea of her climbing into someone else’s bed and trying to get into their head by using her body as a tempting distraction.
Annoyed and frustrated, I sling open the door a little harder than necessary the second I’m fully dressed, and I jog down the stairs to see Drake on his crutches. His cast has been downgraded to a brace now, and he’s getting along better since the car accident that almost killed him.
Drex is looking at a sketch of something, seeming lost in thought. Drake gives me a smirk when he sees me.
“They tell me you have a roller derby girl in your bed these days,” he quips, and I cast a bored look at Eve, considering she’s the one who tells Drake everything.
Their odd friendship doesn’t always sit well with Drex, but it’s a sibling thing with Eve and Drake. Anyone else can see that. Which means we’re stuck with Drake more than ever before.
Eve looks away, pretending the wall is fascinating, and I redirect my attention to Drake.
“Any word coming through your shop about the failed attack on us?” I ask in deflection.
Drake scoffs. “Since you lot moved me into the building across from you, I haven’t heard much of anything. It’s become clear I’ve chosen a side, and you fuckers are going to take me down with you, it seems.”
He groans as he hobbles over to a couch and takes a seat, putting his crutches next to him before continuing.
“I remember the good ol’ days after Drex’s cocksucker daisy. All I had to worry about was inking people.”
Drex glares over at Drake, who is grinning at him, and I drop to a chair next to Eve as she props up on the arm of it.
“Some of the guys who are coming in the shop are waiting to see what Drex is going to do. They’re not club members, though. They’re just nosy Halo residents who know what’s going on,” Eve tells me, frowning.
“Which means we’re drawing too much attention to ourselves,” I say on a long, frustrated breath.
“Herrin wants that,” Rush chimes in as he walks in with a bag thrown over his shoulder.
“Going somewhere?” I ask him.
“Back to the job I abandoned when I came back to help collect paying jobs. Apparently I fucked that up, so it’s best if I go do something I’m good at.”
I start to ask questions, when Drex adds, “Any one of us could have been fucked by that setup; not just you.” He looks over at Rush, who is tense. I didn’t realize this was still bothering the young blood.
“None of us thought our sources would be stupid enough to choose Herrin. Speaking of which, who’s handling them?” I ask, looking from Rush to Drex.
“Jude wanted a way to blow off steam, so he’s sending the message. Which is why he’s been missing for the past two days,” Drex tells us, even as he studies the paper in his hand again.