Tank by Jenner Carmen

Author:Jenner, Carmen [Jenner, Carmen]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Romance
Publisher: Carmen Jenner
Published: 2015-09-23T07:00:00+00:00

The entire ride back to the cabin, I think about all the things Adeline said to me. The pills in my bra feel like a brand against my skin. I want to get rid of them, but I can’t. I need them. I want them so bad, but I can’t take them, not now, and not without falling off the bike.

When we pull into Tank’s garage I slide off the bike but he grabs my hand and pulls me towards him. “Thank you.”

“For what?” I ask.

“For meeting my mum, and for not stabbing me with your dinner fork, ’cause I know you were thinking about it.”

I laugh. “Oh, I was thinking of stabbing you with more than just my fork. I considered the carving knife and bludgeoning you to death with the roast too.”

His mouth tips up in a smile. “I think I’d like to see that.”

“What, me murdering you with a leg of lamb?”

“You trying to kill me with anything. Postal Ivy gets me hard as fuckin’ stone.” He bends and kisses my hand. There’s a hint of tongue and the gesture is as equally sweet as it is erotic. I pull my hand free from his grasp and ignore the quiet sigh that escapes his mouth. It’s not that it wasn’t nice, it’s just … that isn’t what we do, and to be honest, I don’t even know what that looks like—him and me, together. Me being an old lady. The idea makes me nervous. What if I fuck this up too? What if I really do become his ruin?

We walk into the house and Tank disables the alarm. I notice he doesn’t set it again, and my heart gives a stupid-arsed girly little flutter because it’s such a tiny, insignificant thing, but to me it’s a gargantuan gesture of faith. My gaze meets his, but he says nothing and the moment is lost as Butch comes barrelling in from Tank’s bedroom, almost knocking me off my feet and licking at my hands and face.

“Butch, down,” Tank commands, and the dog ignores him in favour of rutting up against my leg. “Stupid fuckin’ mutt.”

I pat his giant skull and sook him up some more, just the way Tank hates. “On your mat!” Tank bellows, and the dog whines and wanders over to the mat by the door.

“You’re so mean.”

“You baby him. He’s already a big enough sook as it is.” He opens the fridge and peers inside. “I’m gonna have to buy one of those fighting pit bulls to show him how a real guard dog behaves.”

“You’re so full of it,” I say, leaning against the bench. “I see right through you, you know. I’m not buying any of it.”

“Eat me,” Tank says, slamming the fridge door closed. I’m guessing he was looking for a beer, and the fact that I’m here means he can’t have one. He stalks over to the lounge and flops down on it, kicking his feet up on the coffee table and turning on a game.

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