very least, he needed to hit a bar and find someone to suck him off before he did something idiotic like fuck this little canine vigilante. Brooke was a good woman, and good women steered clear of men like him.
“Because the idea of him hurting dogs makes you as sick as it makes me.”
“What?” he growled as her words dragged him from his dirty fantasies.
“You shouldn’t tie me up in my house because the idea of Prick running a dog fighting ring makes you as sick as it makes me,” she said as the courageous woman poked him in the chest.
Well, shit, she had him there. She could add mind reader to her list of skills because there was no way he’d tolerate Prick abusing animals on top of all his other sins.
CHAPTER SEVEN
TIE HER TO the bed?
Tie her to the bed!
Clearly, the man hadn’t meant anything sexual. A man like him wouldn’t go for someone like her who lived in jeans and tanks and couldn’t flirt if her life depended on it. He was trying to demonstrate that he could remove her from this situation and keep her from returning, but her sex-starved mind went straight to the naughty.
She’d never tried the tying up thing before. She’d met her ex-husband her first year of college, and he’d been the only man she’d ever slept with. Sex with him had been vanilla at best. Was there something blander than vanilla? Bran, maybe?
Yeah, sex with her husband had been bran. No sparks, no heat, no flavor. Even in the early days, she often felt like nothing more than a vessel he used to get off in. Not once had sex been about her pleasure or even their pleasure. Shared intimacy hadn’t existed in their relationship. The second Evan came, he’d rolled off and passed out no matter where she’d been or what she’d needed. Of course, he’d been getting serviced on the side, so what the fuck did he care if it wasn’t great between them? But she’d been left wondering if that’s just how sex would be for her or if there was something…hotter.
Her ex had done his part and then some to destroy her self-confidence both in and out of bed, so she’d never had any rebound sex or wild fling post-divorce. As the years passed, her confidence dwindled further with continued inexperience. Now, at forty-one, she was practically re-virginized, self-conscious about her body, and still had only ever had bran sex.
No wonder the thought of this rugged, slightly dangerous man tying her up and doing things to her had her long-neglected body going haywire and acting so out of character.
And the things he’d do would be dirty. Hell, the man probably skipped dirty and went straight to filthy. The kind of things she read about alone at night.
“You’re right,” he said as his shoulders relaxed.
Brooke blinked. “Huh?” Oh, God, how embarrassing. Caught practically drooling over the man.
Again.
His stubbled face hovered just inches above hers. “It does make me sick. Prick is the lowest kind of shit, so it doesn’t surprise me he’d abuse animals, but I do fucking hate it.”
Her shoulders sagged. “The cops don’t seem to care. David, my vet friend, filed a report after he received each dog. He also told them our suspicions about this place. So far, they don’t seem too concerned.” Disgust filled her. If a dog had attacked a child, the cops would be on it in a second. Why couldn’t they extend the same courtesy to the injured animals?
“You can file a thousand reports. Cops around here won’t do shit.”
Her heart sank. “You think?”
Curly nodded. “Prick’s got an in with the local police. Least he did back when I knew him better.”
“You were friends?” she asked, trying to envision the two of them hanging out but couldn’t see it.
He must have heard the disbelief in her voice. His gaze darkened. “We ran in the same circle.”
The motorcycle club. After David and Nancy left yesterday, the urge to Google Curly had been nearly impossible to resist, but she’d managed. Any moment now, a thorough background check would land in her inbox, and she’d have accurate information on the man. Not inflated, overblown, or downright falsified reports from the Internet. If anyone knew how events could be twisted, embellished, or lied about then spread through social circles, it was her.
Curly lifted a hand from the wall, and the next thing she knew, his finger was on her face. The coarse pad stroked her