I dropped my hand to her hip. It was becoming my favorite place to grab hold of her—well, except for that sweet curve of her ass.
I didn’t care that she was trying to get away. Not right now. I was starting to understand why she was so skittish about getting pinned down by a guy, so I needed her to hear me, and hear me good. “What happens between us is only about you and me. Leave all of the bullshit out of it. I ain’t your stepdad. I ain’t looking to fence you in or hold you down. But I do refuse to settle for scraps from you. If we’re doing this, we’re doing it for real. That’s my one condition.”
She looked up at me, eyes big and lost. But I wasn’t backing down. This woman was worth it. Worth fighting for, even if I was fighting her.
“I wasn’t lying when I said any time you need me, all you have to do is call. I may not be anyone’s version of a white knight, but I’ll still be coming.”
Something flickered across her expression, but it was gone before I could identify it. She crossed her arms over her chest—a position I was becoming very familiar with. I wondered if she’d close down again, but she didn’t.
“I’m not the kind of girl who needs a white knight. They’re boring anyway,” she said.
“Then to make sure you’re not getting bored, I want my payment before you go runnin’ off.”
Her eyebrows shot up, and she cocked a hip, a pretty smile settling over her face. “Payment, huh? That’s not a surprise coming from the guy buying and selling stuff all day.”
I let my own smile loose before I lowered my head another couple inches and paused, my lips millimeters from hers. “Fucking meet me the rest of the way, woman. Show me you want this,” I ordered. I wondered how long she’d hesitate, but Elle didn’t disappoint; she closed the last gap between us and gave me exactly what I wanted.
Just like the kiss out in front of her stepdad’s place, this one threatened to rage out of control. If my brain were still functioning, I might start wondering why kissing this woman was better than sex with any other.
But my brain wasn’t running on all cylinders; I was charging forward on pure lust and instinct. Sliding a hand into that silky red hair, I took and took until my dick decided to get involved, and I remembered where we were—standing on the street. I pulled back but didn’t release her.
“You and me. We’re going out, and we’re gonna see where this takes us.”
Elle blinked several times before focusing on my face. “What? No, I didn’t agree—”
“You and me. A date. It’s happening.”
“But—”
“Tuesday. Be ready.” I released her so she could make a run for it.
She strutted away, all sexy attitude.
“We’ll see, pawn star. We’ll see.”
I watched until she disappeared inside.
Can’t fucking wait for Tuesday.
I was grinning. The silly, stupid little grin of a woman who’d had the hell kissed out of her—again—by a guy who proved over and over that he really knew how to kiss.
But Lord was not following the rules I’d laid out when he’d piqued my interest. He was supposed to be dumbfounded by my sexiness—which arguably he was—but then he was supposed to take what I was offering, bang the hell out of me until I couldn’t remember my own name, and then he was supposed to move on. That was it. Game. Set. Match. End of story.
I should’ve guessed a guy who grew up on the streets—and became the sexiest man I’d ever laid eyes on—wouldn’t fall neatly into the program I’d outlined. This was a problem. And the even bigger problem? Those kisses were tempting me to deviate from the goddamn plan.
No, Elle. Bad, Elle. There’s a reason you don’t date—because that means giving up the independence you’ve busted your ass to maintain—and you’re not about to lose it now.
My mental pep talk stuttered to a jarring stop when I stepped inside. In front of my gate was a bottle. Of champagne.
Dom. With a slip of paper tucked behind the corner of the label.
Holy. Shit.
I crouched down, my hands shaking as I reached for the paper. I hadn’t gotten a good look at the note that had accompanied the other bottle, but it didn’t take a Nobel Prize Laureate to guess who sent this.
Wanted to make sure you got this bottle. Be waiting on you, Red.
A shiver ripped through me. It was almost eighty degrees in the non-air conditioned lobby, and yet all the blood in my body was freezing.
Holy fucking shit.
I jammed my hand into my purse, pulled out my keys, and stabbed one into the lock on the gate. The bottle slid across the tile floor as I pulled the gate just wide enough for me to slip inside before slamming it shut. I left it there—on the floor—as I ran up the stairs two at a time and let myself into my apartment.
Holy fucking shit.
Rix knew where I lived.
And he hadn’t given up.
This was not good. This was really not good. And now I was flipping the fuck out, and there was a bottle of Dom at the base of the stairway that could de-stress me like a champ. It was practically calling my name.
No. Not going there.
I looked down at my purse. The note stuck to the purple lining, and my phone was tucked in the pocket next to it.
All I had to do was grab it and call the number I’d texted earlier tonight. Lord would be at my gate in minutes. And then what? He’d go hunting down Rix?
Shit.
The idea of him going after a guy like Rix scared me just as much as knowing that Rix knew where I lived. Yes, Lord could handle himself, I was sure of that. He was the most capable guy I’d ever met … but what if Lord hurt him and the gang came after him? Lord might be fierce against one guy, but a whole crew? I wasn’t betting against Lord, but I couldn’t put him in that kind of position. Because I cared too much about what happened to him.