Page 37 of Marked By Tank
Chapter 6
Tank
Istepoutofthe cabin because staying inside feels like the kind of mistake a man enjoys right before it ruins him.
The door shuts behind me.
Cold air hits my face.
Does not do a damn thing.
I plant one hand on the porch post and bow my head for a second, breathing hard, trying to get my body back under control and failing worse every time I think about her against that wall in my shirt, all bare legs and flushed skin and that look in her eyes when she said she thought I would not want her.
Christ.
I am hard enough to hurt.
I shift my stance and look out at the trees, jaw locked so tight it aches.
The cabin sits quiet behind me. Pine all around. Wind moving through branches. Gravel drive empty. Nothing but mountain air and the sharp bite of cold.
Still not enough.
I can still taste her.
Still feel the little hitch in her breath when my hand slid under the hem of my shirt on her body. Still feel the way she arched into me like her body was starving and mine knew exactly what to do with that.
And I walked away.
Had to.
Did not mean it felt good.
It felt like tearing my own skin off.
My phone buzzes in my cut pocket.
I drag it out, already irritated, and see Ghost’s name on the screen.
I answer on the first ring. “What?”
“Good to hear you too,” Ghost says, voice flat as old steel.
“Bad time.”
“I figured.”
That shuts me up for half a second.
Ghost knows me too well to waste time guessing. If he called anyway, it matters.
I look back at the cabin door once before I step off the porch and put a little distance between me and the walls. “What do you have?”
“The buyer you dropped last night wasn’t just some rich bastard with a taste for girls.”
My body goes cold in a different way.
“Who?”
