I gnashed my teeth and swallowed the snarl that bubbled in my throat. “So, this is about being right? Aren’t you a fucking charmer? It’s my body. I think I’m the first one to know when something goes wrong in there and I’d know if it was a rib.”
Arms hanging casually at his sides, but his shoulders rigid and ready to fight, he took a step toward me, the jacket swaying from where it dangled from his fingertips. “I think you don’t know shit about your own body. If you did, you’d know it’s your rib.”
“Fine, Doc. How is it possible for it to be my rib?” I asked, hoping to give him enough rope to hang himself. There’s no way he had a hundred percent accuracy rate in the confidence department. Especially considering his history.
He snorted as if the answer was obvious. The sound, a verbal pat on the head dismissing me like I was daft. “Because you took six elbows last night playing like shit. That’s all it takes. Lucky for you, I can fix it.”
He poked at the festering wound that never really healed. I knew I let Tilly get to me. I sure as hell didn’t need him to swoop into town and point out the obvious. Every time I let her get in my head, I told myself it was the last time. But the minute our skates met the concrete in the same jam, I was right back there—seething—stuck in a constant loop of taking hits from her, some of her worst barbs whispered with poison until I was that kid again.
Alone.
Terrified.
And defenseless.
Fortunately, I had no such history with the six-foot-tall mountain of conceit smirking before me. I took a step back, glanced over the railing to the ground below, then eyed him from head to toe. “You know, forget me taking you over the railing with me. How about I just shove your ass over and be done with you?”
“You wish. More like you’re going to lean against that railing, cross your arms over your chest, and then I’m going to bend you over backwards and see how flexible you really are.”
We both froze, the suggestive words hanging between us for a beat, two beats, and three.
“That’s a whole lot of your front against my front and I’m not cool with that.” The conviction in my voice just seconds before fled entirely, abandoning me when I needed the armor the most.
“I’m not thrilled about it either.” His eyes fell away from mine and his gaze traveled over me, touching every point from my chin to my fucking feet.
Slow and intense, he might as well have reached out with a finger and danced it over every single sensitive place on the points in between.
I wanted to cross my arms, but I wouldn’t. Fuck him. I wouldn’t let him put me on the defensive. He was the one with the tattered reputation in this town. I just needed to make sure he didn’t taint mine while he was back here doing whatever the hell he was doing.
“Why do you even care?”
“Hell if I know. Come on.” He took my arm, the heat from his palm reaching through the thin cotton to my skin.
The rough way his fingers curled around me should have pissed me off. I should have yanked my arm away, but no. After the way he eye-fucked me before, my inner lusty bitch betrayed me and leaned into the pressure while wondering what it would be like to feel the same grip on my hips, my breasts, the inside of my thigh—he was too close. Too much.
Too fucking much.
Letting me go, he tossed his jacket over the cold metal and wrapped it around the railing three times before taking both of my arms. One step at a time, eyes on mine, he backed me right up to the worn leather. The clean scent of his morning shower teased my nose and despite the heap of reasons it was the worst possible thing to do, I caught myself leaning in for more.
“What are you doing?” he asked, giving me a hard look, a whole lot like the one he shot me the night before while I was stuck to the concrete.
“Just waiting for you to show off your skills so I can get back to work. You think you can hurry it up? I don’t want to clean up bloodshed in there. Scooter doesn’t pay me enough for that.”
“I’d love to. Now, lean back,” he said, lining me up with his jacket. “Does that feel like it’s hitting the spot?”
I rocked back and forth. “Ummm, maybe?”
He cocked his head and blew out a breath. “You don’t know?”
“Well, it’s hard to te—hey!”
Stepping into me, invading every last inch of my space, he reached around, his palm landing on my lower back. “I’ll work my way up, you tell me when I find it,” he said, his voice full of impatience and vibrating against my temple.
Thank fuck he wasn’t looking me in the eye right now because my body had decided to take complete leave of all sense and zero in on the heat radiating from him, the pressure making tracks along the edge of my spine, and the sound of his breath way too close to my ear.
All I had to do was remember the way he owned that chair last night, sitting like a man giving zero fucks, spoiling for a fight. Abrasiveness rolling off him like the rumble of a Harley roaring to life.
Flaming asshole, flaming asshole, flaming asshole.
“Ow!” I hopped away from the pain, my back arching, but with Priest wrapped around me, it meant practically climbing into him.
Chest to chest, hip to hip, the force making him wobble back enough he darted his hand out and curled it around my waist.
“Easy,” he said, his voice low and gravelly. “Now move with me. I’m
