Devil's Game (Reapers MC, #3)(15)

I frowned.

“I don’t know,” I said. “I don’t want to leave Sophie and Kimber.”

“We don’t have to,” he yelled. “No worries.”

I smiled, thankful he wasn’t going to push me. My phone vibrated in my pocket, and I dug it out to find a text. Several of them, actually, including one from Liam telling me he would be early. It’d come in at the same time Sophie sent the picture. Oops.

KIMBER: He hre yet? I want to check out his ass. See if its worthy … think he’ll let me touch? I think we shud make him dance with us!!!!!



I frowned.

“Everything okay?” Liam shouted. I studied his handsome, concerned face and pictured his reaction when Kimber Davis, Sexual Bloodhound, started groping him on the dance floor. I wasn’t sure what would be worse—if it bothered him or if he liked it. Either way, it would embarrass the shit out of me.

“Let’s hit the other place,” I hollered. “You’re right, it’s too loud in here.”

“Text your friends and finish your drink,” he said. “Let’s go talk for real.”

Liam’s choice surprised me.

I don’t know what I expected, but not some grotty little hole in the wall my dad would’ve loved. The sign outside said Mick’s, and the guy behind the bar looked like a giant pit bull. I’d never been here before, and for good reason.

It wasn’t the kind of place you went with your girlfriends.

The room was long and narrow, with a bar along the left wall and rows of high-backed wooden booths with battered tables down the right. Liam held my hand, gently tugging me toward the back. The place wasn’t exactly busy, mostly guys who looked rougher than your typical Saturday night club boy. A lot rougher, actually. Hell, they could’ve been Reapers. Fortunately, I grew up around tough guys and they didn’t scare me. I wouldn’t want to come in here alone, but I felt safe with Liam.

“Here we go,” he said, stopping at the last booth. I slid in, and then he sat down next to me, his long thigh pressing against mine. I could smell his scent, too. Clean and fresh, with just a hint of strong soap.

“Lots of witnesses, but privacy, too,” he added.

Sitting so close felt like being a little drunk. My hormones were all happy and I wanted to reach down and grab his leg. Instead I forced myself to make small talk.

“So how long are you in town?” I asked, appreciating the fact that I didn’t have to shout.

“Depends,” he replied, smiling at me.

“On what?”

“Whether there’s a reason to stay.”

Oh, I hoped there would be a reason. Despite how nervous he made me, Liam made Painter look like a Ken doll.

“What about work?” I asked, realizing I didn’t know what he did for a living. How had we never talked about that?

“It’s flexible,” he replied. “I guess you’d call me a freelancer. I take on jobs as needed, and it seems to balance out in the end. Have you heard back yet on that aesthetician’s program you applied to down in Portland?”


“Not yet,” I said, feeling sheepish. I’d been planning on sending my application for two weeks now but kept putting it off because I didn’t know how to tell Dad I was considering a move. “I only sent in the paperwork a few days ago. I kept losing different parts of it, and …”

My voice trailed off as he reached up to touch my cheek, running the back of his big finger across my skin. Pure fire. I couldn’t think. I didn’t want to think.

And I really, really didn’t want to talk about getting my aesthetician’s license.

“I’m gonna kiss you,” he said. I nodded, and then his lips covered mine.

Fuck small talk.

The kiss started out softly. Liam threaded his fingers into my hair, tracing his tongue over my lips, parting them gently, almost worshipfully. I opened for him, my eyes falling closed as he moved in. I’d been kissed lots of times, despite Dad’s reputation for shooting my boyfriends (which was totally unfair—he’d only shot one, and he swore it was an accident). This was a whole different world of kissing.

I lost myself in Liam’s lips, drifting along on a wave of sensation that grew as I forgot the room around us. Then his fingers clutched my hair and the kiss hardened. His head slanted across mine, taking instead of asking. My nipples tightened, desperate for more. I reached down and found his thigh. It felt like solid rock. My fingers dug deep into the muscle and he groaned, hips shifting.

Seconds later, he broke free of my mouth and shoved the table across the booth floor, creating more space for us. Then he lifted me to straddle his lap.

“Liam, we can’t do this!” I hissed, eyes wide. Sure, people were pretty open around the Armory, but this was a public bar. “We’ll get thrown out.”

“Mick’s a friend,” he told me, eyes dark and intent. “Don’t worry about it.”

He leaned forward and nuzzled my breasts, which were conveniently located in front of his face. The corset served them up like a f*cking buffet. Shit, were people watching us?

“Jesus, you got good tits,” he said, not sounding quite like himself. Rougher somehow. Then he slid a hand down my back and grabbed my ass, crushing me into his hips. I think my womb clenched. Or something did. If it wasn’t my womb, I had a very confused appendix. Liam grabbed my hair with his other hand and pulled me in for another kiss.