Page 4 of Twisted Road

He might have surprised her, but the shock to himself was far more than what he was doing to her. He liked her. As a person. He was drawn to her for many reasons. That greeting of hers, unfailing every time. The real laughter she gave to him and no one else. It didn’t matter if he had a woman at the bar with him. She didn’t seem to care.

She knew he fucked everything in the county with a pussy, skanks to married women from the “right” side of town. She didn’t seem judgmental, just amused. When the women treated her like shit, she never looked hurt or upset, she simply gave him her little grin, the one that lit up his world, and went to the other side of the bar while he dumped the bitch. No one talked to Lyric like that on his watch.

She complimented him. The words were always offhand. Casual. As if she were stating a fact, but she always said something nice to him, like how she loved his hair, it was thick and shiny and she could tell he took care of it. That meant something to her. She was into hair. She’d tell him a shirt color looked good on him. Or she liked the way he wore his motorcycle boots so much she wasn’t going to make him take them off if they were muddy. She meant those things, and she wasn’t flirting. He wasn’t certain she knew how to flirt, and the fact that she didn’t do it was wreaking havoc with every one of his preconceived notions about women and relationships.

He didn’t acquire female friends. He fucked women and kicked them to the curb. He made it clear before he had them what it was and that there wouldn’t be a repeat performance. Women never believed him. Never. They thought they would be the one to “tame” him. It was a crock of shit. Most of the time, he couldn’t take the utter crap, the lies and idiotic romantic nonsense they spouted. He had a brain, much to his chagrin, and it needed stimulation, not inane conversation.

Lyric believed him when he explained his onetime fuck policy and just laughed. She told him he was hotter than hell, and she could see why women fell like dominos, but that didn’t say much about their intellect if they couldn’t see, with his atrocious track record, that he was telling them the truth. That had led to him objecting to the word atrocious, and it had turned into a two-hour discussion he’d enjoyed more than anything else the entire five months he’d been hanging in that little town.

And then there was the little thing she’d done that had made him feel—hell, he didn’t know how it had made him feel. She’d been tired, on her feet all day, and he’d dropped by her shop at closing time for no reason other than he had to see her. She’d seen him coming, flung open the door and greeted him with that unbelievable smile of hers. He’d taken her out to dinner, a little diner that had extraordinary food. Her order had come up, but his had been delayed. She’d sat there across from him asking about his day. Seemingly genuinely interested, and she hadn’t touched her food until his arrived. It was a little thing, but he’d liked it a fuck of a lot. Too much.

Cradled by her soft body, feeling her superb feminine form, Keys inwardly cursed the relentless demands his cock made on him. He didn’t need to be as hard as a rock when their lives were at stake and she was scared out of her mind. That made him far more of a disgusting pervert than he’d ever considered himself. Shit. He knew he was worthless. He’d always known it, but in this instance, he wanted to live, to ensure she did, and that the assholes, who were so cowardly they’d hit them from behind with a baseball bat, didn’t have a chance to touch her.

He knew he’d used women to relieve the merciless hard-on that never let up, but they’d used him as well. Not Lyric. She hadn’t once indicated she was willing. If anything, it was just the opposite. He’d thought it was the chase that kept bringing him back, but with Lyric, there was no chase. She was without guile. She was just…Lyric. Wildfire and sunshine.

Fiercely aroused was a state he often found himself in, but he’d never experienced feeling when his cock demanded sating. He didn’t want the intimacy of kissing. He didn’t want to have to seduce anyone. He wanted to bury his cock in pussy and get off and then get away. He didn’t want conversation or the exchange of numbers.

But then there was Lyric. Her mouth. That sweet innocence he tasted along with the hint of strawberries and fresh snow on her breath. Finding restraint took effort, but he managed to kiss her gently. Exchange breath. Exchange heat. He was shocked that he could be lying in a coffin, his head pounding, and still want a female. Not just want. Need.

He suppressed a groan. Who the hell was he kidding? He didn’t want just any female’s body. He wanted the one under him.

With his mouth on hers, feathering kisses, exchanging air, it was impossible for her to get away from him. There was no room. She stilled again. He swore he heard her frantic heartbeat.

“Get my hands free, Keys.”

Her shaky voice whispering to him in that pleading tone, so unlike her, turned his heart over. If he knew one thing about her, it was that she was as independent as hell—a trait that wouldn’t work for him, but one he admired. Pleading with him in that scared tone was so unlike his Lyric, his heart ached for her.

“Babe, if I could, I swear I’d get those cuffs off and move your arms out from under you, but there isn’t enough room.” Her entire body shook, and her eyes went wild. “Lyric,” he spoke in his harshest, most deadly, dominating tone before she could go into her full-blown panic attack. “Look at me. Keep your eyes to mine. I swear on Czar’s life I’ll get you the fuck out of here, but I need you thinking. Cooperating. You can’t have a panic attack.”

Her eyes stared straight into his, and the sexiest pout he’d ever seen formed on her lips. “I can, Keys. I can have a full-blown panic attack, and it’s your fault. What idiotic reason did you think you had for waking me in a coffin?” She practically spat the last word and those green eyes of hers blazed with fire. He recognized that Lyric. He’d woken the little dragon, and she was getting ready to breathe fire on him. He could work with that.

“I was thinking I was bored as hell and getting turned on with all the bumps and twists causing our bodies to rub all over each other. Shit, woman, you’ve got those excellent tits pushed right into my face. How the hell else are we going to pass the time?”

He stared right into her vivid green eyes so he was able to see those building flames. Went from golden sparks, little fiery embers, to full-blown flames. Bog, the woman was fuckin’ gorgeous. And even sexier than gorgeous. Why the hell did she hide in her baggy clothes?

He didn’t need or want the tall, leggy blondes or the voluptuous abundant curves of dark-haired beauties. He found he wanted a waterfall of silky red falling around him. He wanted the tiny little body and luscious handful of tits. They weren’t huge, but they were flawlessly formed. The cradle of her hips gave him the perfect place to rest his cock. Her ass. It had to be said, she had a world-class ass hidden in those baggy jeans she loved to wear. Small, maybe, but firm and soft. Heart-shaped. He’d spent far too much time thinking about her ass and what he’d like to do to it. He was a connoisseur, and he’d spotted her figure under all that heavy material long before he’d stalked her and seen her in climbing clothes.

“You are out of your mind, Keys,” she informed him. “And if you bite me again, I’m going to bite you back. Hard.”

He grinned at her. “I like hard, baby. You put the steel in my cock, up to you to remove it.” He said it as matter-of-factly as he could. Taunting her. Teasing her. Hoping she’d go along with the game and forget about their circumstances.

The moment the words were out of his mouth, the fire faded into that intriguing, sexy feminine amusement that seemed reserved only for him. He thought of that soft, sexy look as an intimacy between them that was all his.

“You are so full of shit, Keys. I don’t make you hard. You just come wired that way. Don’t blame me for your lack of control.”

At least he’d distracted her, but that was a low blow. True, but still a blow. He had control, he just didn’t bother to exercise it.

“You suddenly have a foul mouth just because we’re in a dicey situation, woman. Don’t say shit. I don’t like you cussin’.”

Her eyes narrowed, but then she had that dimple that gave her away. “You can’t tell me not to swear when you have the foulest mouth I’ve ever heard. Every other word is the F-word.”

He was about to make her head spin. “Yeah, babe, but I’m the man. You’re a woman. I don’t like it, and I want you to stop.”

The truck was definitely slowing. Now things were going to get interesting.

She started to speak, deliver her comeback, but she became aware of their ride skidding in the mud. Of the pounding rain coming down on them. “Oh God, Keys.”

He brushed a kiss over her lips. The truck fishtailed. “Listen to me. I want you to do everything I say. When I tell you to do something, don’t hesitate. They’re going to open that lid and expect us to be out of commission. We’re going to let them think that. You can’t give it away, no matter how scared you are, that we’re alive and well.”