Her cheeks flushed, which made his belly flop again. “I hope so. It’s my real face. The only one I’ve got.”
“It’s a good one.” He winked at her. “You should keep it.”
“Was planning on it.” She reached for some glasses, grabbing a jug of filtered water from the fridge. “You want?”
He nodded, feeling really good here. This was a sweet, simple morning. One that made something foreign and welcome blossom inside. Water whooshed as she poured two glasses, and then the toast popped. She divvied up two slices per plate and pushed one to him. “Let’s eat.”
They took turns slathering avocado all over the bread, giggling like kid intermittently when they fought over the knife when one took too long. Bo sprinkled flax on top with a flourish, then grinned as he crunched into his first bite. They watched each other as they ate, a quiet comfort.
“This is good,” Dakota said.
“The best.” He nodded toward her bedroom door, where he’d noticed a bar hung near the top. “You ever use that bar?”
“What bar?”
He pointed. “You’ve got a chin-up bar installed there.”
She squinted at it, like seeing it for the first time. “Oh. Since when?”
He laughed. “Probably the last guys left it. Who knows.”
“It’s a chin-up bar?”
“Mm-hmm.” He swallowed and wiped at his mouth. “Can I use it?”
She shrugged. “Whatever. As long as it doesn’t break.”
“I’ll test it out later.” He winked, crunching into another bite. His phone dinged at the same time and he fished it out, finding a message from Turbo.
Stay wherever you are. Had a drive-by at headquarters today already. DS is hot on trail.
He sighed tersely, tossing the phone onto the counter. “Bad news.”
“What is it?”
“I need to stay longer.”
Her eyes rounded. “Seriously?”
He nodded, avoiding her gaze. “Yeah. ‘Fraid so. Those guys are waiting for me to show up. Causing trouble at the clubhouse.”
She drummed her fingertips against the counter, staring at her toast. “I mean, sure. If you think it’s safe here.”
“I’ll repay you. I promise.” He reached for her wrist, and she yanked her gaze up to his, surprise streaking her face. Whenever their skin met, it was electric. From somewhere else, the undertones of voices drifted through the apartment. Bo creased his brow. It sounded like yelling—or maybe moaning. “What’s that?”
She sighed. “The neighbors. They get…boisterous.”
Bo squinted at the wall. It was definitely moaning. “Do they do this all the time?”
“Often enough.”
“Well listen. I’ll pay for groceries,” he said, “And whatever you need around the house. Insulation for the walls? I’ll order stuff right now. Whatever you want.”
She softened. Maybe she was strapped for cash, or just touched by the offer. Wherever it resonated inside her, it worked. “That would be nice.”
“And let me buy you something nice for the apartment, too.” He slid his hand back, smoothing his palm over the counter. “This place needs some love, darlin’. I can help.”
“What are you, an interior designer?”
“Hell no. But damn, let’s get a bookcase in here. Curtains. Something.”
“I told you I was moving.”
“Right, but you haven’t moved yet.” He leveled her with a look. “Come on. You’re letting me stay here. I’ll build you a bookcase and we call it even?”
“You’ll build me one?”
He shrugged. “Why not? Can’t really teleport one so I guess I have to build one.”
She bit her lip and grinned, a dimple flourishing. His belly flopped again and his fingers twitched as he thought about touching her, just smoothing a fingertip over that cute little cheek of hers.
“You do whatever you want,” she said. “I can’t stop you if you order groceries.”
Bo reached for his phone but hesitated. Ordering groceries was a thing that existed, but he’d never done it before. He’d never needed to, not while living at the clubhouse. “You got an app or something for it?”
She burst out laughing and got her phone. “Let me help you.” She pulled up an app and swiped through some screens, then leaned over the counter to show him. “Here. This is the grocery store about a mile down the road. I used to use this all the time in Vegas. Just order what you want and we’ll figure out the payment at the end.”
“You came from Vegas ?”
She nodded, tucking some hair behind her ears. “Why?”
He looked her up and down. “Why’d you wanna come to L.A., then?”
“It’s complicated.”
“Tell me.”
She narrowed her eyes. “I don’t need to tell you shit.”
He raised his hands in mock defense. “Sorry. Just trying to get to know you.” He took her phone, scrolling through the options, squinting at the screen. Dakota could be barbed wire, and he would do well to remember that. Even though he wanted to push past all those defenses and find that sweet core he’d been lucky to glimpse a couple of times already.
Dakota nibbled on her toast as he shopped on her phone. After a few minutes of selections—toothbrush, more toothpaste, toilet paper, five pounds of avocados, and free range chicken eggs among other things—he passed her the phone. “Make it so I can pay in cash.”
Her eyes widened at the total. “You have this much in cash on you?”
“Yeah, why?”
She let a low whistle. “Okay, Bo. Whatever you say. This sleepover party is about to get crunk.”
He chewed on the rest of his toast, loving her mussy hair, her soft, natural face, the sharp blue eyes that snagged him like a fishing hook whenever he caught them. “If you’re lucky, I’ll let you braid my hair tonight.”
CHAPTER SIX Dakota roused slowly the next morning, confusion clouding her consciousness as soon as she opened her eyes. Sunlight broke through the closed blinds, falling in streaky patterns on her bedspread. She’d burrowed into a nest, which felt somehow empty since she’d relegated Bo to the couch for the second night. And already she was wondering if maybe she could change that rule…invite him into her bed for the third night…
She yawned and stretched, a strange noise grabbing her attention. She stilled, listening closely, trying to place it.
It sounded like soft huffing…rhythmic. A little grunt.
She turned and looked toward the bedroom door, which she slept with open as a rule. She hated going to bed with the door closed at night. And maybe that was a genius practice, because Bo hung from the chin-up bar in the doorframe, facing away from her, muscles flexing as he pulled himself into chin-ups.
Her mouth parted and she watched, enthralled. She clenched her legs together, unable to control the desperation pulsing through her. Get that man on top of you, immediately. Her body was begging for it. It was practically a necessity at this point. She swallowed the sick morning taste in her mouth, curling into a ball to watch the show.
Bo huffed and puffed softly as he hung from the bar between sets. After a moment, he pulled himself up again, launching a new series. She lost count after a while. What a beast—she could barely do one.
When he paused again, she fluffed the pillows beneath her head, snuggling into a comfier spot. One of her hands drifted between her legs, heading for the needy nub that controlled her fantasies. She flicked a finger over top of it, pleasure shuddering through her. Maybe this was too much, too creepy —but damn, she was aching for it.
Watching those muscles flex beneath his golden skin didn’t help matters. A few beads of sweat trickled between his shoulder blades and she whimpered involuntarily. She froze, pursing her lips together. Had that really escaped her?
Bo dropped to his feet and turned, face glistening with sweat. He must have been at it for a while. “Morning. Didn’t realize you were up.”
She cleared h
er throat, feigning sleepiness. “I was dreaming and I just woke up.” She forced a yawn.
“Don’t worry. You’re not dreamin’ now, even though it might look like it.” Grinning, he grabbed onto the chin-up bar again, facing her. Workout shorts sat low on his hips—one of the scores from his virtual grocery run the day before. His low abs flexed and flinched as he pulled his knees up to his chest and then down again, up and then down. The wings of some creature tattooed across his low belly seemed to fly with the repeated movements.
She grinned, nestling into the pillows. “You think you’re so dreamy? Think again.”
“I know I’m dreamy.” His tongue poked out a little as he grunted through another lift.
“You’re also arrogant.” She flopped an arm over her eyes. Looking at that body for too long was dangerous. It might lead her down the wrong path. “Among other things.”
He was quiet for long enough that she moved her arm from her eyes to peer at him. He grinned like he had a secret.
“What?”
“Nothing.” Knees to the chest, and then slowly back down. Belly flinching all the way.
“Quit looking at me like that.”
He grunted, lifting his knees. “I’m not looking at you like anything.”
“Yes you are.”
His smile widened, which meant one blossomed on her own face. Jeez—three days with this guy and she was like a teenager around him. Horrible. “Whatever.”
She rolled over onto her side, away from Bo. For how rocky things had started between them, they sure had made a surprising 180 in so little time. Maybe their relaxed evening over beer and wine the night before had a lot to do with it. Where they’d interspersed bad television with interesting conversation and a pointed appraisal of all the things that needed repairs in her apartment. All the while sipping on his favorite brand of cheap American beer, plus a merlot he’d thrown into the grocery mix, because he thought she might like it.
The guy was a walking contradiction. How could he murder a guy and recommend black-out drapes for her bedroom? It didn’t make sense to her. None of it made sense.
But what made the least sense of all was how each passing hour made her more hesitant to see him leave.
His continued grunts and puffs echoed through her, driving her wild. Her pussy throbbed with need. She pushed the covers off of her and slid out of bed. Time for a cold shower.
Bo didn’t pause or even flinch when she walked up to him, just continued his methodical knee lifts. She crossed her arms over her chest, hiding the tight points of her nipples. Her gaze skated over the sweat-streaked skin of his chest.
“Excuse me.”
“I’m busy,” he said, a grin breaking through his concentrated façade.
“Well I need to pee.”
He let a whoosh of air out and dangled from his arms. “So?”
“Lady of the house gets to go to the bathroom whenever she wants, so questions asked.” She narrowed her eyes, but secretly couldn’t get enough of the banter.
He dropped to his feet with a thud, straightening his back. He loomed over her, his cocky grin setting her pulse racing. “Yeah?”
She nodded, clearing her throat, trying but failing to prevent herself from visibly lapping up his bare chest, and all the fascinating rivulets of sweat dripping between those two dime-sized nipples. Would it be so wrong to smooth her hands over it? She just needed to touch it once, then the urge would obviously go away. Forever. “Them’s the rules.”
He stepped aside, gesturing for her to go through the door. “Then by all means.”
She stepped cautiously through the door, gasping when he grabbed her wrist. She spun to face him, heart in her throat.
“Don’t the house rules say the lady can’t go alone?” He pulled her closer, his heat rolling off in waves. From this close, his eyes weren’t just dark, they were a delicious vortex, deep umber with flecks of hazel. She couldn’t look away if she tried.
“Wh-…Well…”
“You might need protection.” He arched a brow. If this was him testing the water, she was doing a piss poor job of establishing the boundaries.
She swallowed hard and yanked her hand back. “I think I can handle my morning piss by myself.”
She hurried into the bathroom, heart throbbing in her ears. Fuck, he was too sexy. And she liked him . What kind of shit was that? She pressed herself against the bathroom door, struggling to calm her breathing. If he tried something like that again…she’d crack. Cave faster than a global warming-inspired avalanche.
She splashed freezing cold water on her face and peed while her knee bounced wildly. She paced the small bathroom for a few moments before she felt ready to emerge. Her nipples were hard enough to cut glass under her t-shirt so she crossed her arms over her chest again, like it might hide the evidence.
In the bedroom doorway, Bo was back to his chin-ups. This time, he held his legs out parallel to the ground while he lifted. His face was flushed and sweat rolled off him. She stopped in her tracks, mouth hanging open.
He didn’t even look at her as he worked through the reps. Her thighs clenched and she spun on her heels. Better to divert to the kitchen…make some coffee or something. Anything to take her mind of the dripping hunk hanging from the chin-up bar. French Press. That was a perfectly fine way to take her mind off Bo.
She readied the coffee grounds in the glass carafe. Staring at the tea kettle while it warmed up, she willed herself to ignore the grunts and huffs coming from Bo. When he let a long sigh, she figured maybe the sinful torture was over. When the kettle whistled, she snapped off the flame and poured the steaming water over the coffee grounds.
“Oh, can I have some?” He wiped a towel over his neck as he approached, his dark eyes sending her heart racing. You can have anything you want. She opened her mouth to respond but a muffled banging distracted her. She turned to look at the shared wall with her neighbor and grimaced. Yep, that was the bed banging against the wall. Just in time to remind her of what she was so desperately trying to ignore as an option.
He laughed, dimple flashing in his left cheek. “Sounds like they’re having a nice morning.”
She forced a smile, capping the glass carafe. “I guess.”
Bo stretched a little, swinging his elbows side to side. God, everything he did was sexy. He could cough and maybe she’d come a little. “Smells good.”
“I buy good coffee.” She stored the bag of grounds in the cupboard. “You want anything for breakfast?”
“Yeah. I want to make it for you, though.”
Inside, she withered. This couldn’t be real. It was like he knew this was the last link in her defense and he knew the code to make it crumble. “Really?”
“Yeah. That’s why I got all these damn eggs, after all.” He smiled cockily and sauntered over to the fridge. She pressed herself against the countertop, feeling plain and sluggish in her oversized t-shirt, having just rolled out of bed.
“Do you work out like that all the time?”
“As much as I can.” He grabbed a dozen eggs from the fridge, and then some Mexican salsa, followed by an onion and a bell pepper. “It’s a good way to start the day.”
“Not what I would—” She bit her tongue before she could finish the sentence: expect from a biker.
His sharp glance told her knew where she was heading. “Right. Well my personal philosophy is party hard, work harder.”
She creased a brow, watching as he rinsed the veggies before he got to chopping. “What do you do for work?”
“Everything. I work on my club, I work on my body, I work on my investments.” He grabbed a sauté pan from the appropriate cabinet without a second glance, a sign that he’d gotten really comfortable, really fast. And maybe she kind of liked that.
“What investments?”
“In the community.” He shrugged, cracking eggs over a bowl. “Making sure things stay good.”
“You couldn’t be more vague.”
“Why shou
ld I tell you?” He glanced back at her, his knowing smile searing through to her core. “You don’t wanna tell me things, I don’t tell you things.”
She clucked her tongue, easing onto the stool at the other side of the counter. “I see how it is.”
He chuckled, whisking the eggs with a fork. “Exactly.”
Comfortable silence blossomed between them, but after a few moments, the rhythmic banging of the bed against the wall grew loader. A moan carried through the apartment. She laughed and buried her face in her hands, reminding her of the tight pulse between her legs.
HITMAN’S SURPRISE BABY: A Bad Boy Mafia Romance Page 21
