Make Me (KPD Motorcycle Patrol 4)

Then Jimmy would call me and tell me to come over the next morning, and I would.

It pissed my dad off to no end, but he loved Jimmy, and inevitably would give him whatever he wanted.

“I do hope if you end up having an STD that you find whoever you gave it to and inform him.” My father hung up.

I opened the door to my SUV—the one that Jimmy had helped convince my father that I needed to haul him around—and got in.

I tossed my phone onto the center console and backed out of the driveway before heading in the direction of home.

I was tired as hell.

I’d been up since the night before, unable to sleep, and I could use some shut-eye.

But first, I stopped by Marta’s bakery and got a pastry.

It was while I was leaving, stuffing my face full of a massive blueberry muffin, that I nearly ran straight into a wall of muscle.

I inhaled deeply and sucked bits of muffins into the wrong pipe. My eyes watered, and I began coughing, bits of muffin spraying out onto a massively beautiful, defined chest.

Once I realized what I was doing, I turned and coughed sideways. All the while, the wall of muscle didn’t move.

Through bleary, tear-filled eyes, I cleared my throat and looked at the man that had nearly been the cause of my demise.

And froze.

That was because the wall of muscle was…beautiful.

He was tall—way taller than me—with dirty blond, messy hair. He had the most beautiful crystal-clear blue eyes that I’d ever seen, set in a tanned face. A tanned face that had the same color beard with just a hint of red in it. That beard circled a perfect set of plump red lips.

Red lips that were turned down in a frown.

I followed the muscled column of his throat to a black t-shirt. The collar of his black t-shirt had a pair of Ray-Ban Aviator glasses hooked to it.

And the man’s tattooed, muscular arms were now crossed intimidatingly over his chest.

A chest that had food on it—from me.

That was when I reached forward and started cleaning off my coughed-up blueberry muffin pieces off of his chest.

And oh, God. That chest felt like ecstasy underneath my hands.

“I’m so sorry,” I said as I brushed the crumbs away.

The man’s hands caught mine, and he slowly set me away.

“I got it,” he said. “You’re good.”

I wasn’t good. I was dying.

“Uhh,” I hesitated. “Okay.”

The man’s eyes met mine.

That was when I felt myself freeze.

His eyes were…scary.

Scary was the only word that could describe them.

I felt like he could see straight into my soul with those eerie, witch eyes.

“Have a good one,” I said, scrambling my way around him.

But with the way he was standing in the doorway, I had to brush my entire body against his to get away.

And God, his body.

If his arms and chest had been defined, that was nothing compared to the abs that I could see through his t-shirt.

There was no way in hell the man belonged here then. Who in their right mind, with a body like his, would be caught dead in a bakery? There was no way he maintained a body like he did while also eating sweets.

Trying to ignore the way my breasts felt while grazing his arm, I hurried outside and told my nipples to get themselves under control.

I didn’t look back until I was in my car.

And when I did, I was shocked stupid to see him staring at me.

Starting my car, I backed out of the parking spot and jetted in the direction of home, all the while confused on why my heart felt like it was beating straight out of my chest.Chapter 2

I’m not sure if Target knows this, but there’s a whole demographic of women who want to wear shorts that don’t show off their twat.

-Royal’s secret thoughts

Royal

Pissed didn’t even begin to describe how I was feeling right now.

“What do you mean he was beat up?” I snapped, unsure if I’d heard what I thought I heard was what I actually heard.

“Your brother was hurt by a dealer that thought he was encroaching on his turf. He’s okay, but he’s going to need to stay the night in the hospital to rule out a concussion.” Marta bit her fingernail. “Your father is on his way.”

He would be.

I’d called him four times today because I couldn’t get a hold of Jimmy and he hadn’t once returned my calls. Getting a hold of Jimmy wasn’t unusual for my dad. Jimmy didn’t like answering my father’s phone calls, so my father hadn’t been worried.

Me, on the other hand? It wasn’t normal for Jimmy not to return my calls. Which had been why I’d been calling my father.

“Is he really okay?” I asked. “He’s going to be okay?”

Marta’s hand on my arm made me still. “He’s going to be fine.”