stings. His eyes darken, and I realize too late that was the wrong thing to do. He wraps his hand around my throat, squeezing, but not hard enough for me not to be able to breath. His lips are on mine again, and I hate that I moan when his tongue pushes past the seam of my lips and our tongues war with one another. He threads his other hand through my hair, yanking hard. I grab his hair with both hands and do the same. He hisses then grins. It continues like this. An endless cycle of punishment and pleasure.
His hand digs into my upper thigh, before unbuttoning my jeans. He snakes his hand inside, and it’s so fucking wrong but so right. I’m wet for him, yearning for him to touch me there. His rough hand on my skin has me shaking with anticipation as his fingers descend lower and lower. His lips suck and bite at my neck. The pleasure courses through me, and I moan loud into his ear. His finger reaches my clit, barely brushing it, but the shock and pleasure has me writhing on his lap.
“Pike!” Thorne’s shout is an ice bucket, pouring cold reality on top of our heads, dousing the lust fueled flames.
Flames that should never have been burning in the first place.
Chapter Seventeen
Mickey
“Pike!” Thorne’s voice calls out again.
Pike stands, tossing me off his lap. He looks calm and put together as he lights a cigarette. The only evidence of what we just did is the large bulge straining the front ofhis pants.
I, on the other hand, look as if I’d just swam through a swamp. Which I did.
We’re in the shadows, and I’m pretty sure Thorne can’t see us from where she is, but I’m even more sure that Pike doesn’t want her to see us because he steps in front of me, blocking me from view.
“Meet me by the garage. Quick!” she adds, disappearing around the building. Pike takes my hand in his and drags me in her direction. I still taste his lips on mine and feel dizzy from it all, but he looks as collected and as angry as ever.
I’m thankful for the interruption. A chance to collect my thoughts. To become logical me instead of reckless me.
Pike turns around. Again, his face is cold and impassive. “This changes nothing,” he remarks flatly.
His words sting, and I know what he said, but then why do I hear something else? Something underneath his coldness. As if what he really said was This changes everything.
Pike grabs on my hand, tugging me out of the shadows and into the parking lot.
Thorne gives me a once over, popping her gun. “What the fuck happened to you?”
“The swamp happened to me,” I reply.
She shrugs, and like she’s told me before, she doesn’t ask questions.
“What the fuck do you want to show me? I’ve got something I’ve got to take care of,” Pike spits, sparing me a glance.
Me. He’s got to take care of me. And not in the bubble bath and foot rub kind of way.
Thorne leans down and yanks open the garage bay. Inside is a large white truck with no markings. I recognize it instantly as the truck I’d helped steal from Pike. There was no mention of bringing it back. It makes no sense that it would be here at all.
What the fuck is going on? Whatever part of the plan this is, I wasn’t there when it was discussed because even I don’t understand the motives behind going through all the trouble to steal something like this, only to bring it back.
Pike takes a step forward as if he can’t believe what he’s seeing.
“Can you believe it?” Thorne asks, smiling from ear to ear.
“How?” Pike asks, pressing his palm to the bumper and pulling himself inside the open gate. There are barrels of hazardous waste lining both sides of the truck. He opens a few to check the contents.
He looks to me and repeats the question. “How?”
“The honest to God truth is that I have no idea,” I reply. “I’m just as confused as you are.”
Thorne shrugs. “I have no idea either. I came out to store a Vespa, and when I opened the bay, boom, it was back.” She makes a mind-blown gesture with her hands.
The sound of a motorcycle pulling into the parking lot vibrates through the garage, the echo growing so loud I cover my ears until a shiny black bike pulls up and cuts the