Good Gone Bad (The Fallen Men 3)

This was a bad idea, the tipsiness, because alcohol barely affected me anymore except for making me horny as fuck.

And Danner had been too close all night, barely flirting with Laken, instead exchanging glances with me that left me with full body shivers and an ache between my legs no amount of squirming could slack.

I should have been more careful, but I just wasn’t that kind of girl.

Some people faced the edge when the occasion called for it. I just straight up lived there, on the edge of reason, on the outskirts of temptation, seducing others to join me there.

And right then, I was trying to seduce Danner.

He was bent over the table lining up a difficult shot to get the green striped ball in the corner pocket without hitting the solid yellow one in front of it.

“Don’t mess up,” I taunted him, settling a hip on the edge of the table beside him and leaning slightly over his back so he’d feel me in his space.

Laken was in the bathroom, but I couldn’t say I wouldn’t be doing the same thing even if she was right in front of us.

Danner’s white shirt had ridden up with his cut, exposing a taught expanse of lower back to my hungry eyes. I trailed the fingertips of one hand whisper-soft across the breadth of it and watched as Danner flubbed his shot.

His face was hard, marbleized into sexy displeasure. I’d never seen a man wear his discontentment so well, like a badge of authority, a crown of regality. I wanted to get on my knees, kiss his fingers and beg him for forgiveness anyway he would give it to me.

“You’ll pay for that play, Rosie,” he clipped out quietly, and I could feel his touch against me even though he was inches away. “If you do it again, I won’t be responsible for what happens next.”

There was a loud commotion at the door that drew my attention briefly to Reaper, Grease, a hoard of other brothers and their women entering the bar. Wrath went instantly to greet them and we should have too, but didn’t.

The game Danner and I were playing had just gone from dangerous to deadly.

My heart was beating so hard I could feel it sharp and obvious, tattooing my desire at every pulse point. My nipples beaded into hard points under my shirt, my breath too fast between my parted lips as I turned back to see Danner’s eyes still on me. I was lit up with lust like a fuckin beacon and I didn’t care.

I just wanted Danner to blanket me with his form of darkness until I exploded into sparks.

“Who says I’ll hold you responsible?” I murmured, brushing passed him so my diamond hard nipples scraped against his arm.

“Fuck me, you’re trouble. Have been since the day I saw you,” he said, but his eyes tracked the newcomers as they intimidated another group into giving up their booths. “You could tempt a saint into sinning.”

I bit my lip, unsure if I wanted to admit how hard I’d been trying all these years to do just that. “Wouldn’t bet on that. I haven’t succeeded yet.”

“I’m no saint.”

Oh, but he was wrong.

Standing wearing faded, old jeans in the way on his could, the soft fabric molded to his thick thighs, his high, tight ass, his white tee pristine against his tan and that too fit well, hugging every delicious contour of his chest so that it was nearly indecent. He was a North American idol, vital and strong, righteous and just, virile but principled. If all that wasn’t saintly, I didn’t know what was.

“Seems that way from this side of the table,” I taunted, digging at him because I hated him for being so beautiful and so not mine.

He sighed roughly and ran a hand through his dishevelled hair. “Wanting you was never the issue.”

I snorted. “Wasn’t it?”

“Jesus Christ, Rosie, this isn’t the time or place.”

Emotions whirred in my gut, the longing and the lust, the frustration and the unjustness of it all, but as usual, I couldn’t find the words to parcel such huge feelings into neat little boxes. So, I got angry.

“It never fucking well is,” I hissed at him. “You’ve been spewing that shit for years. You’re a man, you want a woman, you fuckin’ take her if she wants you back.”

Danner gritted his teeth, his eyes darting over to the group which Laken had joined. We needed to go over to join them soon or they’d notice the slight and take insult, middle of a pool game or not.

So, when he started stalking by me, I assumed that’s where he was headed. Instead, he powered past me, his hand snatching out to grip my wrist and drag me behind him.

“Lion,” I whispered harshly in protest.

But I followed him. I followed him, because I had all my life and I knew I always would.