Screw (Hell's Handlers MC 8)

Eventually, Jazz placed her hands on his chest, giving a gentle push. “F-friends,” she said, eyes shining and chest heaving. “Just friends, Gumby.”

“Sure,” he said, and she narrowed her eyes at the easy capitulation. “Just friends.”

There was nothing friendlier than a kiss.

CHAPTER TEN

IT’D BEEN A good day. Incredible day, really. As she drove them back to her house, she wasn’t ready for it to end.

After the awkward, tension filled morning they’d been able to fall into a pattern that was as comfortable as it was exciting. An oxymoron, but somehow it worked. It was as though she was meant to be there, with him, feeling the buzz of happiness and excitement.

Gumby was the perfect combination of gentleman and rogue. An alpha, take-charge man, and an outlaw biker who had another side. An intellectual, caring, compassionate side that spoke to her.

Unlike Screw, who may have more layers to him, but fuck if he’d let anyone uncover them.

Heat shot through her as the memory of Screw’s kiss charged to the surface. Dammit, all it took was the mention, the thought of his name to have her recalling their chemistry. A physical connection like that wasn’t something one found every day. Maybe she could have given into it. It wasn’t as though she had to take all her clothes off to have sex. She could get hers and leave a good majority of herself covered. Even knowing physical was all it’d be, she could get behind it, if Screw respected it. But he didn’t. He’d be out the door and onto the next conquest before the aftershocks finished rolling through her.

And there would be aftershocks. Probably multiple orgasms, too. Hell, maybe he could even break her record of three in one night…

Shit! Why was she thinking about this? Gumby should have all her thoughts. Gumby had traveled across the country after searching for her for a year. Gumby was kind, patient, sexy as hell, and wanted her for more than a quick romp. Gumby was the kind of man she should be interested in. He was the only man who should be on her mind.

Even though she’d put him in the friend zone.

But goddamn Screw had wormed his fucking way into her psyche. Wormed, hell, he’d bulldozed through her goddamn skull.

Jazz dropped her head in her hands. What was she doing? She had nothing to offer either man. Even sex. Especially sex.

Suddenly, the walls of the car seemed to shrink around her, nearly crushing her with their confinement. She threw open the door and stumbled out, sucking in large gulps of air.

Gumby startled, looking across the top of the SUV at her. “You all right?” he asked, turning away from the gas pump.

“Uh, yeah,” Jazz straightened before glancing over her shoulder. “Just feeling drowsy. Must have been the wine at dinner.” She started walking backward, thumbing in the direction of the gas station market. “I’m just gonna run in and grab a coffee. You want anything?”

He flashed her a grin that had her knees weakening. Something about those Clark Kent glasses combined with his leather jacket and mussed blonde hair was damn potent.

“Yeah, babe, coffee sounds perfect.” He winked then rested his arms on the top of the SUV. “Don’t mind me, I’m just gonna stare at your ass as you walk away.”

With a roll of her eyes and a chuckle, Jazz turned. What ass? She’d always wished she had more of one. More of everything really. Hips, ass, tits…everything was just slightly…flat. A quick peek over her shoulder revealed Gumby didn’t seem to have a problem with her backside. As advertised, his gaze was riveted to it.

So sue her if she didn’t stick it out a bit and try to exaggerate her strut.

“Good evening,” a bored sounding attendant said as he sat behind the counter, flipping through a car magazine. The guy didn’t so much as flick a glance in her direction when the bell jangled, indicating her arrival.

“Good evening.” The warmth of the market heated her skin instantly, making her almost too hot with her thick winter jacket. Jazz headed to the center of the store where an island held multiple coffee machines and options to doctor it up anyway she’d like.

For herself, she added some sugar and too much vanilla creamer, and for Gumby, plain black coffee as he’d taken it during breakfast that morning.

She popped the lid on the second coffee as the doorbell rang. A smile curled her lips. Probably Gumby, considering they’d been the only car filling up. Still smiling she turned just as the attendant said, “Good eveni—” then cleared his throat.

Jazz sucked in a breath.

The attendant seemed to have a similar reaction to the newcomers. He sucked in a breath and straightened; magazine forgotten.

“C-can I h-help you?” he asked. Poor kid couldn’t have been much more than nineteen. With trembling hands and the way he gnawed his lip and stuttered, he looked seconds away from pissing himself.