hands up, darlin’,” he ordered, pointing his rifle at her back. “And don’t make any quick moves or I’ll have you covered in paint and we both know how much you hate losing.”
She tossed her gun to the ground, raised her hands, and looked back over her shoulder. “You know I heard you coming, right? Hope you didn’t sprain a hip or something.”
“You didn’t hear shit, I’m onto your head tricks,” he snapped. “Turn around.”
She did as she was told and turned around with a big ass grin on her face. “Whatever makes you feel better… So, what’s your plan? A hostage situation?
What the fuck was his plan again? He couldn’t remember, which probably had something to do with the fact that her shirt was unzipped down to her belly button. And she wasn’t wearing a bra. Shit, she’d totally fucking heard him.
But goddamn, those tits. If the fabric would just spread open another inch on each side, her perky little nipples would be his tongue’s for the taking.
Nope. He wasn’t getting distracted. He’d win this fucking round.
“You tell me, baby,” he drawled. “Should I have mercy on you?”
She laughed. “You don’t have a plan, do you?”
“Fuck you, I know exactly what I’m doing,” he insisted, his eyes involuntarily drifting back down to her chest.
Target fixation, that’s what this was. In motorcycle terms, it meant running into shit you were trying to avoid by staring at it. Look at where you wanna go, not at what’s in your way, Buddha would drill into his skull every day when Torch got his first bike.
But it wasn’t a curb or a tree he was fixated on in this scenario.
“You know what I love about playing paintball?” Liv asked.
Did he? Probably not, the woman obviously had something up her sleeve. “What’s that?”
Still grinning like she already had him by the nuts, she reached into her pocket for something he couldn’t see. She then spread her shirt open all the way and held a balled-up hand under her chin. “The paintballs. When you keep them close to your body, they get warm and easy to”—she squeezed—“pop.” Purple paint seeped out from between her fingers and oozed down over her tits.
“Jesus Christ,” he groaned. He couldn’t move, he could barely breathe. He just stood there like a horny fucking deer in headlights and watched.
Slowly strolling toward him, she pulled out another handful and did it again. Talk about fixating, he couldn’t peel his eyes away from what looked like a cascade of colorful cum dripping down her soft skin.
His dick was hard, his willpower… not so much.
Every time.
Every. Fucking. Time.
What was it about bitches pouring shit all over themselves? It didn’t matter whether it was water, baby oil, or apparently paint, there was something mesmerizing about any kind of liquid trickling down the peaks and valleys of a great pair of tits. And Christ, hers were spectacular.
He grabbed her around the waist and growled. “You had this planned, didn’t you?”
She cozied up to his chest and reached into his pocket this time. “Are you complaining?”
No. No he was not.
He leaned in to go for her mouth, but she pulled her head back. Before he realized what was happening, she’d flicked open his switchblade and pressed the tip to his cheek.
If it had been anyone else he probably would’ve lost his shit, but this was just Liv pushing another crazy fucking boundary to see if she could make him flinch. He wouldn’t give her the satisfaction. Why would he? Walking that fine line between sexy and dangerous was a turn-on like no other.
But he wasn’t about to lose a chunk of his beloved beard to foreplay either. He stood motionless as she lightly dragged the blade down the side of his face and neck, before pulling it and his long-sleeve shirt away from his chest. The thing was sharp as shit, and with one swipe, she sliced through the collar and halfway down. Biting her lip seductively, she tossed the knife aside, grabbed a piece of fabric in each hand, and tore his shirt open the rest of the way.
Two could play this fucking game.
He ran his palm up her sternum and curled his fingers around her throat. “You’re starting to push your luck sweetheart.”
“Trust me,” she murmured, “this is just the tip of the demented iceberg. Didn’t you read the fine print before you married me?”
“Didn’t realize I needed legal counsel, my mistake.” He gripped her neck and crushed his lips to hers.