Kisses and Warfare

Her knees go up, and soon she’s on the desk, and I’m trapped between her legs with her looking down at me. “I’m not like your usual girls, Blaze.” Something cold presses into my neck, and she tsks at me. “That’s a knife at your neck. Next time you touch me without my permission, push your cock onto me, or anything else, I will use this knife and cut your fucking throat. You hear me? Boss.” She smiles and climbs back down. I look at what’s in her hand, and sure as shit, she has a damn knife. A small pocket one, but still she has it none the less. And it can do significant damage should she want it to.

“Challenge accepted.” I smile.

“No. There’s no challenge. Go. Find someone else.”

“Didn’t you want me to fall in love with you, so you could break my heart?” I tease her. My cock’s still hard from her words, her actions, and I think I may be falling in love with her, or should I say her sass.

“I decided you aren’t man enough to handle my rejection. You may do something rash. Like, for example, fire me, or come into my office and sexually harass me.” She smirks, her lips turning up. She likes to play.

I rub my hands together, smiling at her. “I won’t ever fire you, but I will come to see how you’re doing.”

“I’ve run this place fine without anyone overseeing how I’m doing,” she bites back.

“I don’t want to see how the club is doing, I have faith you can run it.” I step forward again, and Kat holds her little knife up at me.

“One more step, asshole, and you will be having trouble breathing.”

“What a way to tell a man you love him, by threatening him with bodily harm.”

She scoffs, dropping her arm along with the knife to her side.

“Love. Please…” She waves to leave. “Go, now. I have things I need to do before I go and watch my sister get trashed with your brother.”

“I’ll be staying until you leave.” I smirk. “You know, to keep you safe.”

“Fuckhead,” she whispers as I walk away.

“You love me,” I say back to her as I shut the door.

I hear something thud against the other side of the door and the tinkling sound of breaking glass.

Chuckling, I walk straight into Marcus.Chapter ElevenKatI hate him. Hate him. What an asshole. And now he’s my damn boss. I hear him on the other side of the door, so I open it to see him standing there talking to Marcus, who looks at me then back to Blaze. I push past them, not even bothering to be polite, and go straight for my sister, who is still drinking her way through our cocktail drink menu.

“How much have you had to drink?” I ask, looking at her face.

She giggles, and I know with her glassy eyes, it’s a lot.

“Marcus ran off, said he had to speak to Blaze, and told me…” she hiccups, “… to stop drinking.” She pokes her tongue out, then proceeds to drink more. “He thinks he can tell me what to do.” Rochelle shakes her head. “Only in the bedroom do I allow that.” Her smile is big as Marcus and Blaze walk back over.

Blaze takes one look at me and goes in the opposite direction, toward the door.

“We’re going,” Marcus says, helping my very intoxicated sister to stand. Rochelle leans forward, placing her hand on my shoulder and kissing my cheek.

“My old ball and chain is taking me home,” she says with a smile.

Marcus fights a lip twitch at her words, and I smile at her. She really is happy with him. They are two complete opposites, and yet somehow, they balance each other out perfectly.

I’m a little jealous.

My phone buzzes, and I pull it out to see it’s a private number. I also notice that it’s late.

Rochelle looks to it and plucks it from my hands, answering it with, “Kat’s phone,” then she says, “Hello.” She pulls the phone away from her ear and hands it to me. “I think they hung up.”

I look and see the caller’s still on the line because the call hasn’t ended.

“Hello.”

“Kat.”

A voice I haven’t heard for a while says my name, and I immediately hang up.

“Who was that?” Marcus asks, clearly taking in my white expression.

“No one,” I reply, tucking the phone back into my pocket.

Why on earth would he be calling?

What does he want?

It’s hard to forget the voice of the father of your child. And how the hell he got my number is another thing I would like to know.

Marcus doesn’t say anything, accepting my answer, and Rochelle is too drunk to care.

Walking them to the front door, I grab Rochelle’s arm. “Don’t tell Mom.”

She nods, and Marcus walks her out while I stand there until the door closes.