mean, no?” She sounds furious, which somehow turns me on. I’m fucked. Hearing the anger in her voice actually arouses me and I have no idea why. Angry chicks usually piss me off. Or I walk away from them, not wanting to deal with the drama.
With Jade, every time she gets angry at me—pretty much every time we’re together she’s angry, I can’t lie—all I can imagine is if she’s that passionate when she’s mad? Imagine what she’d be like in bed.
Or on a couch.
Against a wall.
In the shower.
On the floor.
In the backseat of my car.
Clearly, she distracts the shit out of me.
“I mean, this date isn’t over,” I tell her as I throw the car into reverse and wrap my arm around the back of her seat, glancing over my shoulder so I can back out. My fingers dangle treacherously close to her shoulder and I’m tempted to touch her. Just a casual brush of fingers, nothing major.
But I’m nervous that once I touch her, I won’t be able to stop. More like I won’t want to stop.
“You took me to dinner. Isn’t that enough?” She crosses her arms in front of her chest, plumping up her breasts and I sneak a glance at them, only to immediately regret it because damn, her cleavage. The girl’s body is bangin’.
“No, it’s not enough.” I keep my gaze focused on the road in front of me, speeding but not too much over the limit. “I just need to make a quick stop. It won’t take long.” Better not take long. I have way more important things to do.
Like Jade.
“Where?”
“There’s trouble at one of the tables,” I mutter, just under my breath, hoping she won’t hear me.
But she must have sonar hearing because she swivels in her seat, her arms dropping to her sides as she stares at me so hard, I bet she’s burning holes in my face. “You’re taking me back to that—gambling house? Oh God, no. I do not want to return to the scene of the crime.”
“The scene of the crime?” She’s hilarious. Says the craziest things.
“Yes. Where we met.” She stares at me with a look that says duh. “Remember?”
“Trust me. I remember every detail about that night.”
I can still feel her glaring at me and I’m tempted to say something else but I don’t. It’s best I leave it alone. Focus on driving. Focus on my anger towards Gabe because what the hell. Why can’t he take care of this problem? It’s not that big of a deal.
We arrive within minutes and I park the car out on the street, directly in front of the house. We make any and all so-called patrons of our establishment park down the street so as not to call too much attention and so far since we started this little side business two years ago, we’ve been successful in doing just that.
“I won’t be long,” I tell her as I put the car into park. “A few minutes, tops.”
“I’m staying in the car,” Jade says when I turn off the engine.
“Whatever. It’s your choice.” I don’t feel like arguing. We could go round and round in circles wasting precious time. Besides, she might be safer in the car. I have no idea what’s going on inside.
The moment I enter the house and see the six-foot-five gorilla sitting at the blackjack table with his meaty fingers curled around the edge of the table, his expression one of pure fury, I know it’s a huge deal. This guy is massive. Gigantic. With closely cropped dark brown hair and murder in his pale blue eyes, his face so red he looks ready to explode, all earlier plans of how to approach him evaporate.
“He’s been sitting like that for the past five minutes,” Gabe says out of the side of his mouth when I come to stand beside him. He’s leaning against the wall, his arms crossed in front of him, his gaze never leaving our subject. “Doesn’t move, doesn’t say a word, just his face keeps getting redder and redder.”
“How much has he had to drink?” I evaluate the scene. No one else is currently sitting at the blackjack table. In fact, the entire place is pretty much
With Jade, every time she gets angry at me—pretty much every time we’re together she’s angry, I can’t lie—all I can imagine is if she’s that passionate when she’s mad? Imagine what she’d be like in bed.
Or on a couch.
Against a wall.
In the shower.
On the floor.
In the backseat of my car.
Clearly, she distracts the shit out of me.
“I mean, this date isn’t over,” I tell her as I throw the car into reverse and wrap my arm around the back of her seat, glancing over my shoulder so I can back out. My fingers dangle treacherously close to her shoulder and I’m tempted to touch her. Just a casual brush of fingers, nothing major.
But I’m nervous that once I touch her, I won’t be able to stop. More like I won’t want to stop.
“You took me to dinner. Isn’t that enough?” She crosses her arms in front of her chest, plumping up her breasts and I sneak a glance at them, only to immediately regret it because damn, her cleavage. The girl’s body is bangin’.
“No, it’s not enough.” I keep my gaze focused on the road in front of me, speeding but not too much over the limit. “I just need to make a quick stop. It won’t take long.” Better not take long. I have way more important things to do.
Like Jade.
“Where?”
“There’s trouble at one of the tables,” I mutter, just under my breath, hoping she won’t hear me.
But she must have sonar hearing because she swivels in her seat, her arms dropping to her sides as she stares at me so hard, I bet she’s burning holes in my face. “You’re taking me back to that—gambling house? Oh God, no. I do not want to return to the scene of the crime.”
“The scene of the crime?” She’s hilarious. Says the craziest things.
“Yes. Where we met.” She stares at me with a look that says duh. “Remember?”
“Trust me. I remember every detail about that night.”
I can still feel her glaring at me and I’m tempted to say something else but I don’t. It’s best I leave it alone. Focus on driving. Focus on my anger towards Gabe because what the hell. Why can’t he take care of this problem? It’s not that big of a deal.
We arrive within minutes and I park the car out on the street, directly in front of the house. We make any and all so-called patrons of our establishment park down the street so as not to call too much attention and so far since we started this little side business two years ago, we’ve been successful in doing just that.
“I won’t be long,” I tell her as I put the car into park. “A few minutes, tops.”
“I’m staying in the car,” Jade says when I turn off the engine.
“Whatever. It’s your choice.” I don’t feel like arguing. We could go round and round in circles wasting precious time. Besides, she might be safer in the car. I have no idea what’s going on inside.
The moment I enter the house and see the six-foot-five gorilla sitting at the blackjack table with his meaty fingers curled around the edge of the table, his expression one of pure fury, I know it’s a huge deal. This guy is massive. Gigantic. With closely cropped dark brown hair and murder in his pale blue eyes, his face so red he looks ready to explode, all earlier plans of how to approach him evaporate.
“He’s been sitting like that for the past five minutes,” Gabe says out of the side of his mouth when I come to stand beside him. He’s leaning against the wall, his arms crossed in front of him, his gaze never leaving our subject. “Doesn’t move, doesn’t say a word, just his face keeps getting redder and redder.”
“How much has he had to drink?” I evaluate the scene. No one else is currently sitting at the blackjack table. In fact, the entire place is pretty much
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