Page 14 of Ky

I’m not his mother, I can’t stop him if he’s determined to drink. But I will stop him from leaving on his motorcycle, and tie him to the couch if I have to. Now those particular thoughts of tying him up have invaded my brain, and I feel like it’s short circuited.

I finally get up the courage to speak the words I wanted to say when he first arrived.

“Why are you here, Ky?” I try to inject a bored tone to my voice, and hope that my face doesn’t show the nervous excitement I feel that he’s here.

Lifting his head from his food, it felt as though his eyes were boring into my very soul. There was something in those eyes—something I couldn’t define—that burned right through me. I didn’t want to hope too hard for what I thought I saw.

“I wanted to see you,” he replies matter-of-factly, his eyes studying my expression for something I can't decipher, but it was the gentle pressure of his hands against my hips that sent shivers down my spine.

He’s making me twitch nervously.

When I feel cornered, my instinct is to put up a tough front and conceal my true emotions.

I couldn’t help the snort that escapes. “Why? You never wanted to see me before. In fact, you did everything you could to ignore me. And when you weren’t ignoring me, you were threatening me,” I add, reminding both of us of the day his and my business literally went up in flames.

At the reminder of the way he threatened my life, a smirk lifts his full, kissable lips, showing even pearly white teeth.

“No curvy beauty was harmed in the making of said threat,” he drawls, and I can’t help the blush that invades my face, coloring my cheeks beet red. “Besides, I could smell your arousal, so you hardly seemed scared of me,” he says with a self-satisfied smirk.

I remember that day all too well. Afraid my business would go under and the animals would perish all because of what Angelo did. And there I was, my body reacting to the man now in front of me while he threw threats around.

I’m sure Ky and the club were still suspicious of me. But I can’t tell them what’s going on because if I do, I risk putting them and their entire club in danger.

Then I roll my eyes. “If this is some sort of booty call, you’ve got motorcycle Barbie, who I’m sure is ready, willing, and able to service you,” I snarl.

I hadn't intended for those words to escape my lips, and despite claiming to be buzzed, he moves swiftly, lifting me onto the cold granite countertop. Eyes wide, I stare back at him as myheartbeat quickens. He spreads my legs so that he can fit in between them.

“You really don’t know when to be quiet, do you?” he growls close to my face, and I can smell the beer on his breath, along with his scent—the leather and motor oil mingling with his spicy aftershave.

The heady combination was enticing.

“Sweetness, I should give you something to do with that mouth that doesn’t involve talking,” he growls.

I gasp audibly at the audacity of the man. Instinctively, I raise my hand, intending to slap his face, but he grabs my wrist in a tight hold, not enough to hurt me, but just enough to keep me in place. Before I knew what was happening, he wraps my hair around his fist as his lips crash down onto mine, and he was kissing me like his life depended on it.

Placing my hands against his chest, I had every intention of pushing him away, but the sensation of one of his hands in my hair, the other tucked between my ass and the island I was sitting on which was covered only in satiny sleep shorts, sent a jolt of pleasure through my body, and his tongue pushing into my mouth causing me to lose control and let out a low groan. My arms instinctively going around his neck.

“You like that, pretty girl?” he asks, his voice muffled against the skin of my throat.

“Mhm,” I murmur. He spreads my legs so that he can fit in between them, and I know I’m dripping at the feel of his heated jeans covered crotch against my pussy. Running on instinct, I wrap my legs around his hips, locking them together behind his back.

His all-seeing eyes consuming me in their fire, as he takes me in from head to toe, my T-shirt rides up over my hips, exposing the purple sleep shorts.

“Sexy,” he growls, his hands running up and down my thighs, as he notches his jeans covered crotch at my center. “Has Ink seen these?” he demands. His face contorting in what looks like rage.

Something I don’t understand.

My body freezes, and it’s like someone doused me with cold water from the heat I was feeling only seconds ago. Frowning, I direct my confusion at him. What is he getting at? Ink and I are only friends. He’s been kind enough to help me at the clinic from time to time, since the fire. Something I thought would keep away the customers when they’d see him there. But on the contrary, his presence helped bring in more business.

Then I realize.He thinks Ink and I are doing the dirty. The asshole.

He doesn’t get to dictate who I can and can’t see when he’s had motorcycle Barbie on the back of his bike not more than a few hours ago.

Taking him by surprise, I slide off the counter; we stand facing each other, my eyes narrowed at him, and I can’t stop my finger as it jabs into his chest.

“We’re done here. You don’t get to question me about who I spend my time with when you’ve done nothing but ignore my existence for the last six months. And had motorcycle Barbie on the back of your bike just recently,” I tell him haughtily, intent on leaving the room and wanting to wipe that little smirk off his face at the same time.

However, I knew he wouldn't allow it. His arm hooks around my waist, placing me back on the counter with force. As I land, a whoosh of breath escapes me, and my hair unravels from the bun on top of my head even more.