Page 8 of Underground Prince
“You gotta let me explain, man.”
“Nope. Exit. Now.”
Ollie’s Adam’s apple bobbed. Something in Theo’s face caused him to swallow any last-minute pleas. He carefully stepped around Theo, then made a hasty retreat.
“Smart man,” Verily said.
Theo whipped toward us, catching us starfished against the wall. His expression softened, but with all his harsh angles, he only went from murderous to merely intimidating.
“I thought I told you to run the hell out of here,” he said.
“You think this is my first rodeo?” Verily asked.
“That was…” I said, lowering my hands. “Well.”
“They still in there?” he asked Verily, gesturing to the other room.
“Yep,” she said. “What player do you know who’s willing to let a fight next door ruin a good run?”
“Right. I got it covered. You guys go home. I’ll…” Theo scanned the room, everything mostly destroyed except the walls and overhead lights. The table, chairs, and bar were now shreds of wood with cans and glass shards adding a little bit of sparkle. “I’ll sort through this, and drop off your pay this week.”
“You sure you don’t need our help cleaning up?” I asked. “We are in maids’ outfits, after all.”
Theo smiled with a surprisingly exquisite movement of lips that transformed him from sinner to sweet in the span of one heartbeat. “Nah. Thanks for tonight. You did good, new girl.”
His study had me honestly believing Pop Rocks candy pieces were fizzing and bursting in my chest. “I—thank you.”
Oh, somebody punch me in the face already.
At Verily’s light tug, I followed her out. Once Theo was out of my line of sight and there were a few doors
between us, I thought I’d be able erase his image from my head, but like hardened honey, it was a pain in the ass to remove.
But it mustn’t stick. Pointless, unattainable, kept at a distance—exactly how I liked my men. I might be craving danger, but I wasn’t looking for heat.
I wasn’t supposed to feel anymore.
A cool breeze washed over me when Verily elbowed another door open, and I stepped out, popping my back as I pressed my hands to my Tailbone and arched into a stretch.
We’d exited out the back way and stood behind the brownstone, clumps of a once-pretty garden beneath our feet. A chain-link fence bordered us on three sides, and lines of laundry swept over our heads and connected with the building across.
“So,” Verily said. Hands on her hips, she squinted up into the night sky. “How was your first day?”
4
CAN'T RESIST THE DRAW
His hands were slick.
They were wet and rough, sliding down my waist. Our breaths formed transparent clouds, humid, panting. My hair tangled into damp snarls around my shoulders, the skin on my forearms shining as I wrapped them around his neck. My own neck cricked and popped, but we both went on like the sound was never made.
He pounded, and my head smacked into the bedrail, but I gritted my teeth. I drew him closer, clamping my thighs tighter, his groans damp draws against my ear.
“Scar,” he said. “Scarlet…”
“Come on. Harder,” I said.
“Ung…”