Pike (The Pawn Duet #1) - T.M. Frazier Page 0,51

fast asleep, her little purring snore the only sound in the otherwise quiet room.

I want to wrap my hands around her beautiful throat and choke the intel from her perfect mouth, but Gutter is right. The girl is stronger and physical violence would cause her not to trust me and I need her to trust me if I’m going to get what I need.

I cringe at the look in her eyes when I told her after the kiss that this changes nothing. It was a lie. It changes everything. Once I tasted her, I couldn’t stop tasting her. Covered in mud or not, I can’t lie to myself and pretend I wasn’t ready to take her right there on the curb.

Stupid fucking move on my part. Giving into my primal urge to kiss her, to claim her, then dismissing her right after we were interrupted isn’t going to open the doors to honesty.

I brush her hair from her eyes and can’t help but smile when she makes a noise of protest and moves her head so that she’s face-down in the pillow.

The way she used her photographic memory and her impressive big brain even after I’d treated her so coldly to alert me to the tampering. Only to ruin plans her own people obviously had to destroy my reputation and my connection with King. She helped me.

No, I remind myself. I can’t think like that. She did it to save people, not me. And yet, that doesn’t make me feel any less of an asshole for the way I’ve been treating her. The thing is, looking back on my life, I can’t remember a time when I’ve ever felt guilty for being an asshole. There isn’t a thing in my life I can say that I regret saying or doing even if those actions resulted in hurting other people either physically or emotionally.

She’s not the selfish person I accused her of being. Selfish people don’t save the lives of thousands of unaware ravers hellbent on a good time. They don’t thwart their own people in the name of others.

But Mickey did.

Which leads me to believe that Gutter’s right in yet another way. She has her own agenda. She’s pretty much told me that herself. She might not be able tell me who is behind all of this, but if what Gutter said is right and I can get her to tell me what it is, then it could give me enough to lead me straight to the motherfucker’s door.

My eyes sting with exhaustion.

I can’t sleep. Not just because of all the shit that’s gone down over the past few days, but because of her.

My cock stiffens at the thought of Mickey in my bed. Of knowing she’s within arm’s reach and that she’s only wearing one of my t-shirts.

Fuck this. I get out of bed, head to the bathroom and start the shower, turning the dial to cold. I step under the spray, but even the icy blast isn’t enough to douse the burning need throbbing in my cock.

Facing the tile, I take my cock in hand. Taking a deep breath, I allow my thoughts to run free. I think of the way Mickey responded to my kiss. Her innocence shown in the way she didn’t quite know how to kiss me back, but did it anyway because she wanted to. Everything I gave her in that kiss she gave right fucking back to me. All while we were both fighting against this weird thing pulling us together. The fucking want in her eyes. The way her body responded to mine. Her little moans and gasps. If Thorne hadn’t interrupted us I know I could’ve made her come right there on the fucking curb. The way she rode me, seeking her own pleasure, knowing that I could be the one to give it to her.

It doesn’t take long until my balls draw up tight and I’m coming in long hard bursts, streaming days of pent up desire all over the yellow tile. After I catch my breath, I turn the spray to rinse off the wall. I lather up, rinse off, and grab a towel hanging from a hook on the wall as I step out of the shower.

I dab at the water on my face and catch the scent of the cucumber girly shampoo Thorne gave to Mickey.

Instantly, I’m hard again.

I mentally swear, drying off as quickly as possible.

Clicking off the bathroom light, I pad back over to the