BLOOD: An Evil Dead MC Story (The Evil Dead MC Series Book 7) by Nicole James

Author:Nicole James [James, Nicole]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Nicole James
Published: 2017-04-12T18:30:00+00:00

***

Blood set a shot on the bar in front of Cat. “Shoot it down.”

Cat picked up the glass and downed it.

He poured them both another.

“Blood, enough.”

“You drunk, yet?”

“No.”

“Then it’s not enough.”

“Can I talk to you, in private?” she bit out, and Blood could sense her anger. Just when he thought he was loosening her up. Damn. He huffed out a breath and followed her up the stairs, away from the crowded main floor.

When they were a few feet down the upstairs hallway, she turned to him and snapped, “I don’t need to be drunk right now, Blood! And neither do you!”

“You don’t get a say in what I do!” They stood a foot apart, both fuming, tempers clashing. At least she knew better than to say this shit in front of the club, but still, a man like him didn’t like hearing any criticism, least of all about his drinking.

“I can handle my liquor, Cat.” He wasn’t drunk, not even close; she didn’t have a clue how much alcohol that took.

“You’ll be useless tomorrow when you’ve got a hangover. How’re you going to go out searching for my sister when you’re hung-over?”

“I don’t get hangovers. Ever.”

Apparently, the nurse in her found that hard to believe. Her hands landed on her hips. “Oh really? And you’d better not be mixing pain killers with alcohol.”

“Haven’t had a pill all day, Nurse Hotty.”

Blood could see the fire in her eyes, and suddenly more than temper flared to life in him as he imagined her in a sexy nurse’s costume. He drew in several deep breaths, trying to get control of his emotions; unfortunately all he drew in was the scent of her. It was sweet, floral, honey, and sunshine. Was that the shampoo she’d washed her hair with? His eyes strayed down the waist-length cascade of corn silk. It gleamed against the black scooped neck t-shirt she wore.

He ached to run his hands through the soft tresses. The ponytail she sometimes wore it in had played center stage in a hundred fantasies he’d had since he’d met her. He itched to wrap it around his fist, control her with it as he drove his dick in her mouth, her pussy, her—

“Blood.”

Her voice broke into his fantasy, and his eyes flicked back up to hers. He knew he should give her space, stay away from her, because keeping his hands off her was becoming impossible. But giving her space was the last fucking thing he wanted to do.

So, he did what he did best—he acted on his impulses and backed her to the wall. Her wide eyes came to his as he pinned her there. He didn’t ask, he didn’t pause, he just took—something he’d always been good at.

His mouth came down on hers, crushing her lips under his. Her hands came up to fist in the material over his chest, gripping, clutching the fabric. She’d been startled at first, but her mouth was opening to his, her head falling back, submitting and letting him drink his fill.

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