But there was just something so compelling about his face, the way he held himself, the controlled power in every move he made . . . Drove me crazy every time I thought of it. Drove me crazy, heated me up, and scared the crap out of me—the situation was utterly ridiculous and completely inescapable.
I had to remember that Puck was a biker, and not one of the nice ones. There was a reason the Silver Bastards protected Callup and all its inhabitants. Not out of the goodness of their hearts—I didn’t believe that for a minute. Nope, their protection was all about territory, kind of like a dog with a bone.
The Silver Bastards might not shit where they ate, but they had to shit somewhere.
Since leaving California, I’d lived my life according to one basic rule—I called it the Mom Principle. When in doubt, think about what Mom would do. Then do the exact opposite. It’d never failed me. Mom loved bikers, which meant I needed to stay the hell away from them. Hold out for a nice guy.
Nice. Normal. Boring . . .
Joe.
Ugh.
When Joe kissed me I just sort of checked out. There was no burning need, no heated desire . . . Puck turned me on just by existing. With him actively existing right next to me, it was almost more than I could handle. To this day, I blame my hormones for my actions, because my brain certainly didn’t get a vote. I should’ve let it die, made a clean escape. Instead I had to open my big fat mouth and make things worse.
“You didn’t answer my question earlier.”
“What question?”
“Do you want to come over for dinner tomorrow?”
Puck ignored me, but I swear—his hands were suddenly squeezing the steering wheel so hard it should’ve snapped in half. The truck abruptly slowed and he swerved off the next turnoff to the river, brakes slamming hard. For a minute I thought we might go over the embankment into the water. I froze as he opened his door and got out, slamming it behind him. Then Puck walked away from the truck, kicking a rock hard as he looked out over the water.
Long minutes passed.
I fidgeted, wondering what was going on. Finally my idiotic, self-destructive curiosity got the best of me and I undid my seat belt, stepping out and moving toward him. He had to hear the crunch of the gravel under my feet but he didn’t say anything.
“Why did you get out of the truck?”
Silence. Had he heard me? Then slowly Puck turned, radiating a restrained intensity. His eyes flared as he started stalking toward me. Not walking—stalking. Like a predator in slow, inevitable pursuit of its dinner. Crap. Puck liked to play with his food, too. I remembered that from California.
What the hell kind of mistake had I just made? I needed to run away, but it was too late—he already had me backed against the truck, although I couldn’t remember exactly how I’d gotten there.
“What exactly do you think we have here?” Puck demanded, his voice harsh. My knees threatened to let go so I grabbed the truck behind me with both hands.
“I don’t understand.”
“You just invited me over for dinner,” he sneered, like it was a dirty word. “Who do you think I am? One of your girlfriends?”
Um, no danger of that. Crap. Damn, but Puck was big. He loomed over me, pinning me with the sheer force of his presence. My heart pounded, utterly convinced that Batman was going to eat me if I didn’t do something right now.
“I think you’re the guy who pulled over this morning and gave me a ride so I wouldn’t miss school,” I said breathlessly. Puck’s mouth twisted into a snarl. Jesus Christ, he’d gone from scary sexy to flat-out scary as fuck faster than Danielle could down a shot. And Danielle was fast. “You didn’t have to, but you did. You’re my new neighbor, too. Things have always been weird and uncomfortable between us. Maybe they don’t need to be.”
He leaned into me, slamming a hand down against the metal on either side of my body.
“Things are uncomfortable between us because I fucked you at a party after your daddy pimped you out,” he said bluntly. “That was a problem for me, given that I was on parole and the powers that be tend to frown upon statutory rape. That was a problem for you because getting raped is a fucking shameful violation, no matter how it goes down. But here’s the really shitty part—fucking you was good, Becca. Damned good. Believe me, I remember how you felt wrapped around my cock. But not even you’re good enough to risk going back to prison, so I’m sure you can understand why I was pissed off about the whole situation. I still did the right thing, and helped you out.”
I blinked rapidly, trying not to faint. I remembered being wrapped around his cock, too. The memories were twisted and confusing as hell, but they were good. Not just good—fucking amazing. Right up to the point where he’d hurt me. Why is this turning me on?
Shit. This had to be Mom’s fault somehow. She’d somehow passed on her only superpower—the ability to seek out and fall for the worst possible man in any given area code. Only possible explanation.
Puck hadn’t finished.
“Dragging your ass out of there seems to have given you the wrong impression about me, Becs. Do not think for one minute that I’m the kind of guy who does the right thing. That’s not my style. I’m the guy who does what he wants when he wants, and trust me when I say I didn’t do nearly enough to you that night to get you out of my system.”
Holy. Crap. I couldn’t process this. Then his body pressed into mine and it got worse. I could feel him against me. Not just all of him, but one specific part of him, digging into my stomach. He lowered his head.