Crash (Evil Dead MC 2)

Crash wasn’t sure exactly why the question had upset her or what had caused her sudden mood swing, but he wasn’t about to let it slide. “Did I hit a nerve, Shannon?” He moved in close behind her and trailed his finger down her spine from her neck to where her silky tank started at her bra strap. She arched her back in reaction, and he watched from over her shoulder as her breasts thrust out.

“Quit!” she snapped.

“Ticklish?” He did it again, mostly to watch her chest pop out again. Fuck that was hot. She spun around, slapping at his hand. He grabbed her hand. “So, you didn’t answer the question. Are you taking the dare?”

“Fine.”

His eyes slid past her to the pool table, and he nodded toward it. “Play a game of pool with me,” he challenged, dying to see her bent over the table in those short shorts of hers.

“Pool?” She glanced over at the table. “All right. Sure. Why not?”

“You haven’t heard the rest.” He quirked a brow. “I get to choose the stakes.”

“Stakes?”

“Yep. Gotta place a wager on the outcome of the game, otherwise it’s no fun.”

Shannon rolled her eyes. “Okay. Fine. What’s the bet?”

“You lose, ink of my choice anywhere on your pretty body I want to put it.”

“Ink?”

He tapped one of the tats on his arm. “Yeah, a tattoo. Ink. I lay ink anywhere on your body I want to put it.”

“You? You know how to tattoo?”

“I got a lot of talents, Princess. I’m an artistic guy. Sculpting’s not the only form I know.”

“Really?”

“Absolutely.”

“Hmm.” She glanced at the table considering and then back at him. “And if I win?”

“Same. Any ink you want. Anywhere on my body.” He saw her reaction, and the corners of his mouth pulled up. He watched her eyes drop to his chest and skate over his body, and he knew her imagination was running wild. “I can see that got your interest.”

“It’s kind of…hot,” she admitted in a whisper.

“Princess, there’s no ‘kind of’ about it. It just plain is hot. You in?”

“Yes,” she agreed, the word coming out in a breathy voice he liked a hell of a lot.

His grin turned lascivious. “Rack ‘em, love.”

He gave her first shot, and she broke cleanly. Parking his ass on a barstool he pulled over from the island, he watched as she sank three balls before missing a shot. He had to admit she had some skills. “You’ve played before.”

She straightened from the table as he got up to take his shot. “Some. My father had a table.” She took the barstool he’d vacated.

He raised his chin in acknowledgement. “I see. You’re not bad.” He leaned over the table and sank two balls in separate pockets with one shot.

“You’re not bad yourself,” she observed.

He sank another ball and glanced over, catching the look on her face as she worried, her lower lip caught between her teeth. He decided to prolong the game and purposely missed the next shot. “You’re up, Princess.”

She slid off the barstool and walked around the table, studying the available shots.

He sat on the barstool, his cue clenched between his fists and watched her as she moved. She came around to his side of the table and leaned over to make a shot. Crash’s eyes fell to her ass which was thrust up so prettily right at him. He was so caught up in studying her ass in those short shorts that he didn’t realize he was getting in the way of her stick.