Page 21 of Mischief Mayhem
At that, I jumped up on the bar to climb over it, not caring I kicked glasses and ashtrays out of my way. I needed to teach her a lesson. After I was done with her, she wouldn’t touch anyone like that again, and she’d think twice before laying hands on Hollywood.
I’d just gotten on the other side, about to grab that disgusting mop on her head when a strong grip circled my waist and lifted me into the air.
“All right, that’s enough,” Hollywood said in my ear as I kicked and squirmed, trying to get out of his hold so I could scratch her eyes out. “C’mon, V.”
His voice came out in broken chuckles, and that infuriated me more.
“Are you laughing?” I shoved against him while he carried me to a back room, putting me down long enough for me to struggle while he opened the door.
“Yeah,” he said, shoving me inside before kicking the thing closed behind him, leaving us in the soft glow of moonlight trickling in through the window.
“Why?” I huffed, blowing hair out of my face and curling my hands into fists to keep myself from swinging on him instead.
“Because you’re adorable.” His grin nearly made me punch him, and he tilted his head to the side, seeming to admire my ire.
“Oh, fuck off.” I shoved at his chest, growing more aggravated when he barely budged. At over a foot taller than me, he had me by at least a hundred pounds of muscle, if not more. I must have looked like a fussy little rodent to him. “I hate you.”
He blew out a breath, narrowing his eyes into predatory slits. “Don’t I know it.”
Ice sizzled down my spine, turning my incinerating anger into a simmering and sultry desire. Last night came rushing back—the way he’d let me hold him in place with my boot, the way he’d taken my panties off with his teeth, how he’d moaned when he came. Christ, it had been so enticing.
And the worst part? I had enjoyed it.
Then, I realized we were in one of the bedrooms in the back, hardly more than a closet with a cot and a small bathroom on the side. The brothers used these rooms to fuck their old ladies or whatever hang-around they corralled that night.
I was trapped. He’d trapped me.
“Let me go, Hollywood.”
“Not until you take a deep breath—” he stepped closer, invading my personal space to make me back up “—and tell me why you went after her like that.”
“She’s a bitch,” I hissed. “She shouldn’t touch you like that. They can’t just touch you however they want.”
“Hmm.” He nodded, taking another step, forcing me back another pace. “Why do you care so much?”
I opened my mouth, but all that came out was, “No one should be touched without their permission.”
“Is that all?” Hollywood raised his eyebrows, moving close enough that he’d pressed me up against the opposite wall, my spine straight against the cool plaster. His scent overwhelmed me, that damnable mix of leather and sandalwood and cologne. I didn’t know how much longer I’d be able to put up the good fight to resist this.
“Of course, that’s all,” I snarled. “What else would it be?”
With nowhere to run, I stared up at him, prepared to bite and claw my way out this if I had to. My pulse beat through my body so fast, I heard it pounding in my chest. I clutched at the glass jar under my shirt, terrified he might see the outline despite it only being less than an inch in length. He couldn’t know that I carried a piece of that night around with me, that I stared at it when I reached rock bottom.
“Well.” He shrugged, rolling those pretty eyes at me. “I mean, after last night?—”
“Last night was a mistake.” I gulped against a painfully dry throat. “We were drunk. It won’t happen again.”
He smiled wider as he drew his massive frame mere centimeters from mine, wrapping his arms behind his back to be sure he didn’t touch me. But the heat building in that small space was worse, a million little tingles of electricity from the near connection cascading over every part of my exposed skin.
“You sound sure of that,” he said.
“I am.” I nodded, my voice shaky despite how much I tried to force my confidence. “You’re Bear’s best friend. You’re . . . you.”
At that, he straightened, staring down with a dark, playful gaze, letting my protests hang in the minuscule space between us. I trembled embarrassingly hard and tried to hide it, but he definitely saw it, and he knew why.
“That’s right. I’m me.” He leaned down and ghosted his lips over my ear, whispering a quiet, “I think that’s the part you like the most. How wet do you get thinking about me on my knees for you? Does it get your little clit hard to imagine me sucking it?”
The last time Hollywood had me pressed against a wall to whisper filthy things in my ear bounced through my mind, and I quaked so hard, my teeth nearly chattered. Hot steamy lust shot right down to my cunt, clenching in my lower stomach, forcing my thighs together.