Turning slowly, I lower my head and glare with a stare that speaks volumes of violence.
“Last time I checked I’m the president. I’m the one who makes the fucking calls.” I point at my chest angrily. “Last time I checked, who I wanted to fuck was my own damn business, but I can assure you I’m not screwing a deputy, Felix.” Lifting a brow at him, I step back, waiting for him to reply. If he doesn’t reply correctly, I will lay his ass the fuck out right here.
He swallows, nodding and looking off into the distance.
“I just want to make sure everything is good, brother. The last few days, you haven’t really been yourself.” He looks at me, squinting with the sun.
“I’m fine. She’s just some rookie who hasn’t gotten the memo on who the hell we are, is all.” I swing my leg over the bike, declaring the conversation over.
“That’s all I need to know.” Felix smiles then turns to get in his truck.
Blowing out a breath of anger, I sit on my bike for a moment, replaying the whole thing over. I saved her again… My attraction for her is becoming apparent. I’ve tried to hide it, tried to fuck her out of my head, but nothing is working. All I can think about is getting her resolve to falter, so I can jump in and claim her. Hear what sounds leave her mouth when I sink my cock into her. See if she closes her eyes, or if they roll back in her head when I bring her to orgasm.
She’s not like the girls around the club. She dresses sexy, but not slutty. She’s confident, but vulnerable. All the girls I’ve known are just conceited. Most of all, she is hell-bent on hurting me, instead of pleasing me. Putting it all out there… I want what I can’t have.
SEVEN
JILLIAN
I head back to my squad car and get in. My eyes sting with the urge to cry, and my stomach feels sick. I thought I was doing the right thing, doing my job. I pushed my lust aside, going forth with what I was taught growing up. Put away the bad guys, don’t let the bad guys in your head, keep the community safe. But now, I’m questioning all of it. Slamming the car in reverse, I pull out hastily and drive. Maybe I should hunt. Hunting always gets my mind off things. ‘Hunting’ is a term we use when we just go find those who screw up right in front of us. We run random plates, waiting for someone to turn lanes without a turn signal, or someone who’s acting suspicious. Half of those small infractions have led to some of the most exciting pursuits, and the biggest busts.
Turning down the road, I spot a motorcycle and a Sin City Outlaw patch staring back at me. The long, leather whips hanging off the handlebars tells me it’s Zeek.
THEY RELEASED HIM?!
I get behind him and flip my lights on. He looks in his rearview mirror and pulls over. Skidding to a halt, I get out before my car is barely in park.
“You!” I point, anger pouring out of me. Humiliation, rage, confusion all cloud my mind.
“I told you I’d be out.” He shrugs, putting his bike on its kickstand before climbing off.
“You’re an asshole!” I shout. I grab his shirt and push him hard, all fear of what he could do to me gone.
His eyes widen, jaw clenching as he stumbles back.
“You better watch it, little one,” he warns, his words pissing me off more. The term of belittlement throws me over the edge.
“Or what? You’ll kill me, bury me with the rest of your victims?” I push him again, and he steps backward.
His chest rises as he looks down at me, his nostrils flaring.
Balling my fist, I blow a frustrated breath. I am unraveling.
“You’re such a –” I growl and turn to leave, my emotions getting the best of me.
“Hey, wait a minute.” He grabs my arm, and I swing around furious. My moment of trying to be the bigger person and walk away is gone.
“Don’t touch me!”
Grabbing onto his shirt with both hands, I shove him hard. Not letting go, I push him onto the hood of my car.
“I hate you! You’re such a prick!” My breathing picks up, my face turning red. “I—”
“Say it! Say you want me!” he hollers in my face, veins protruding from his forehead.
“No.” The word comes out eerily calm, my teeth clenched.
“You’re a liar. Why else would you be so upset? Because you can’t take me down? Maybe. But I think you’re really upset because you want me, and you can’t have me. Admit it.”
“That is not it.” My brows rise to ridiculous levels, my head shaking like a bobble head.
“I hate you, and—”
“You want me,” he whispers. “You want my mouth all over you, and my cock inside of you.”
“Damn you!” I scream in frustration. “Yes, I want you! Happy? DOES THAT MAKE THIS SITUATION ANY BETTER? Is it easier for you to know that I do, in fact, want you?” My anger has me so flustered that I finally gave in to the realization that I do want him, spilling my pent-up emotions. Yes, I want him, and I can’t have him. It pisses me off. I can’t put him behind bars, and I can’t have him in my bed.