Pike (The Pawn Duet #1) - T.M. Frazier Page 0,6

she wraps her arms around my waist like she’s holding on to a tree in a storm I feel obligated. This need to protect her from whatever it is that’s going on in her brain that has her shaking against me.

“I don’t know what to do here,” I tell her with a laugh. I don’t know the first thing about comforting anyone.

“I don’t know either,” she sighs. “You’re a good distraction.” She pulls away just enough to crane her neck, looking up at me. “Distractions are nice.”

Distraction? Now, that I can do.

I wrap my hand around her neck, lace my fingers through her hair, and press my lips to hers.

She makes a noise in my mouth, and at first, I think it’s a moan, so I push further, pressing my tongue between her lips.

She pushes against my chest. Nope. It wasn’t a moan.

I release her, taking a step back.

“What are you doing?” she shouts, chest heaving. Her eyes look clearer. Angry as all fuck, but clearer. “Besides ruining a moment.” There’s something else behind the anger and confusion. Heat. Longing.

My cock thickens in my jeans. Good. I’m glad I’m not the only one who feels it.

She sits on the bottom step. I lean against the railing, light a smoke and shrug. “I didn’t know what else to do. You were going a bit off the rails. Had to pull you back in before you fucking crashed. I’m not good at comforting. Never done it before. You said you wanted a distraction.”

I could distract you even more.

Obviously, the girl isn’t in her right mind, and it’s somehow contagious because there’s no way I actually want to kiss her again. I’ve never wanted to kiss a girl in my entire life. Fuck? Yes. Kiss? Never. Not my style. Women aren’t to be trusted or kissed. I’d take that belief all the way to the bank.

If I believed in banks.

Which I don’t.

She cocks her head to the side and squints. “You didn’t know what to do, so you kissed me?” Like she can’t believe that out of all the things I could have done in the moment, that’s the one I chose.

That makes two of us, kid.

“Don’t go making more of it than what it is. You look like you’ve got enough on your plate. You’re a sexy girl. I’m…well, me. I kissed you. It’s not a thing,” I offer, casually, taking a deep drag.

She touches her lips with her fingertips, and this time, I know it’s not to test her injury, but to remember how my lips felt on hers. She is making more of it than what it is.

I revert to my usual asshole self. “You don’t gotta worry. I’m not going to force myself on you. Crazy, emotional, and too skinny ain’t exactly my type. I prefer crazy and willing to experiment with questionable positions and questionable men. Like myself.”

Most girls would snap back with some equally offensive comment, or at least call me an asshole, but this chick just stares up at me like I’m some sort of creature she’s never seen before and is trying to classify. She wraps her arms around her chest as if her scrawny arms could protect her from the likes of me. “What’s your name?”

I open my mouth to answer, but my voice is drowned out by the sound of gunfire. The driveway explodes in several little bursts, shell shrapnel catches me in the face and covers the girl’s hair in white dust. “Shit!” I grab her hand and tug her around the house to the beach side, pulling her behind the trunk of a thick palm tree just as another bullet pierces the trunk right above the girl’s head, adding bark to the shell dust in her hair.

“What…what’s going on?” she asks, sounding more than panicked, her small hand trembling in mine.

I drop her hand and reach for my gun, checking the clip. “Those are called bullets. The who I’m not fucking sure of.” I slowly peek around the tree. There are several armed men dressed in black signaling to one another from either side of the driveway as they slowly approach. Another bullet grazes the bark. I pull back, crouching low with my back to the tree.

“Why do you have a gun?” she whispers, covering her mouth with her hands as she eyes the weapon in my hands.

“Really?” I whisper back. “Now is not the fucking time.”

“We’re here for the girl. Send her out, and we’ll be on our way,” a