The Sweet Under His Skin by Portia Gray Page B

pause, letting his eyes take in her eyes, cheeks, mouth, all of it. "I'm going to want to do that again. But not until you're ready, babe. Because it probably won't stop there. I got a little taste of you just now, and I'm going to be remembering that for a long time to come." She inhaled sharply again, and his resolve was gone. His eyes scanned her chest, which made her inhale again. "I don't know what you're about to go through," his mouth was saying, his mind trying to imagine what her breasts would look like loose and in his hands. "But when you're through it, I'd like the chance to give you something really nice."
    His meaning was clear. Her cheeks and neck got pinker and her eyes dropped from his as—swear to Christ—she licked her damn lips again. He tilted her chin up with one crooked finger, brushing his lips upwards across hers, his skin sparking from that lingering touch. She didn't open her eyes before he did, and he felt himself smile. She was so right there with him.
    "Good night, gorgeous," he said quietly.
    "Good night, Quentin," she whispered, suddenly blinking rapidly.
    And to go against what he'd thought of himself up until that point, he did the right and smart thing and got the hell away from Aunt Arielle, taking his aching cock with him.
    As he was unlocking his front door he felt his phone vibrate in his back pocket. He pulled it out, shoved his front door open, and flipped the phone open. Bishop didn't text, Bishop preferred to talk.
    "What's up?" he asked as soon as he had the call answered, shutting his door behind him.
    "Dealing in your neighborhood?"
    Quentin nodded as he answered. "Yeah. Skinny white kids. One of them did the finger-gun shooting motion at me. I wasn't wearing my kutte and he didn't know who I was."
    "Out of town talent," Bishop surmised. "Heard they're finding a lot of shitty meth on the streets. Two ODs in the last month, one kid almost died."
    "Who would send dealers out into Portus Felix without warning about Dead Men?"
    Bishop just laughed. "You get three guesses."
    "Dante." Quentin should have known sooner it had something to do with the Nazi Lowriders gang.
    "Bingo. Skinny white kids? I'm more than convinced now. Get to the clubhouse in half an hour."
    Quentin snapped his phone shut, that pissed off vibe returning from before he'd set foot in Arielle and Calvin's cosy little world. He stared out the side window off his darkened kitchen, perfectly in line with where Arielle was still at the kitchen sink, he guessed wiping down the counters or some shit, based on how she was moving. As he watched she stopped, eyes gazing off into the distance, a small smile on her mouth as she touched her lips with one hand.
    Quentin exhaled loud. The tingle of sweet hadn't kicked in this time, only because he'd been so fucking horny just looking at her. The thought of any asshole dealing drugs around Calvin made him see red. Knowing what other shit came with having dealers in your neighbor, having that anywhere near Calvin or Arielle made him homicidal.
    He allowed a small smile that Dead Men Riders didn't like drug dealers in Portus Felix.
    This might be kinda fucking fun.

Chapter Eight
    Arielle swallowed, and it was like trying to pass a cotton ball down her throat. She almost panicked, then remembered what had happened. Blinking carefully against stark-white surroundings, she licked her lips, her mouth pasty and fuzzy-feeling. She took a deep breath and it felt like someone had parked a piano on her chest. She lived through surgery. Thumbs up all around.
    Her environment slid into focus slowly. The first thing she saw was Calvin, already hovering close, like he'd noticed she was waking up. She gave a smile, lifting a hand to muss his hair. It took a lot of effort but she had to do it.
    "Hey, Peanut," she croaked, coughing.
    Calvin was on it. He snatched a glass of water off a table she couldn't see, holding it with the straw pointed at her. It made her heart hurt even as she smiled,