Page 25 of Retribution
His question broke in on her musings. “Uh … yeah, she is. She’s great in it. It’s a very funny movie.”
“What’s it about?”
Dakota gave him a quick rundown, and he just stared at the screen as he listened. “You’re strictly a romantic comedy guy, I can see that.” She grinned.
“Like I said, I don’t watch movies much. I’m more of a book person.” Cobra plumped up the pillow with his fist, put it behind his head and lay back, stretching out beside her.
“You’re not at all—”
“What you thought when you saw me?” He finished her sentence without a critical or condescending tone to his voice, and she relaxed back against the headboard. “All people have secrets, but I don’t want who I am and what I’m about to be one of them. But judgement swings both ways. Some of the worst people I’ve ever met have looked the best on paper.”
Dakota flinched and curled her hand tighter around the remote. There was no doubt about it: she knewthatvery well.
* * *
Dakota woke upwith a start. Her heart beat fast and there was a buzzing in her brain. Soft light trickled in through the curtains, and she rubbed the sleep out of her eyes. Sitting up, she looked over at the floor and saw it was empty.
The mattress creaked and Dakota looked to her left and saw Cobra curled up on the other side of the bed snoring lightly. She slid back down and carefully rolled onto her side and looked at him. His features were much softer in sleep, the lines that grew taut around his eyes were smooth. He looked peaceful. At that moment, she wanted nothing more than to curl up into the curve of his body. Dakota reached out to sweep a wisp of hair off his forehead, but she stopped midair, remembering he was in an outlaw MC and would probably jerk awake in a heartbeat. She didn’t want that—she loved watching him so unabashedly.
They must’ve crashed after they’d eaten the pizza he ordered. They had spent the majority of the night debating gender roles in movies from the classics to the present day. Once she’d started talking about it, Cobra became interested in it, and his knowledge on the subject didn’t come from watching the movies, but from the numerous books he’d read about film, psychology, and social interests.
The man was an anomaly: quiet, well-read, introspective, and gentle. He was more than muscle and brawn for the MC; he was steady and critical in every aspect and choice he made during their interactions. Even though their discussion the night before was heated at times, he didn’t take it to the next level or throw things like some of the men she’d known. Cobra just ended the disagreement with the clichéd phrase, “We agree to disagree.” A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. Dakota couldn’t picture him as an enforcer for an outlaw club.
Maybe that had been his past, but it wasn’t the man who was sleeping beside her at that moment. Her Cobra—tingles skated through her at the thought that he washers—probably evolved from the things in his past. Dakota wasn’t a naïve idiot, and she hardly thought he was a choirboy, but a part of her believed that once he’d landed in prison something changed inside him and he wanted to break away. Cobra had hinted as much to her, and the fact that he was living a nomad life reinforced Dakota’s belief that he was tired of the violent MC life.
She sighed. The truth was, none of it was her business. They were just temporary roommates and didn’t owe each other a heartfelt rendition of the stories of their lives.
Unable to sit still any longer, Dakota slid out of the bed. They had both crashed so hard the night before that neither of them were under the covers, and she still wore her clothes from the previous day. She stretched and tipped her head from side to side.
“You’re up.” Cobra’s voice cracked with sleep, and she nearly jumped out of her skin.
Dakota turned around just as he sat up. “Damn,” she cried out. “Do you always have to do that?”
“What?” He yawned, and she heard joints popping as he got up and walked around the end of the bed to stand right in front of her blocking her way to the bathroom. “It’s not my fault you’re so skittish, sweetheart.”
Dakota shrugged and started unbuttoning her jeans ready to give him a full show if he didn’t move away quick enough. He wanted to play games? Oh, she could stick her hand in the ring without getting burned. She got her pants halfway down her ass before he glared, took a step back and walked to the other side of the room and faced the wall.
“What the fuck are you doin.?” he said.
“Changing.”
“Take it to the bathroom.”
Dakota smirked to herself and kept taking off her clothes, doing everything possible to make as much noise so he knew exactly what was going on the whole time. She took her time with every single piece, then, with nothing on but her underwear, she stalked toward her bag that was catty corner in the room next to where he faced the window.
“Why should I have too? You made your intentions clear with me. We’re friends and friends share space, so we can be innocent with each other if it means nothing, right?”
She swore he growled, a low trickle of sound that chased goosebumps up and down her arms. But she wasn’t about to back down now.
“You’ve been nothing but good to me, so why should I walk around afraid of what you’re going to see by accident when I know for a fact that you’re not going to turn your head and invade my privacy?”
“You’re so fuckin’ sure of that, sweetheart?” Cobra said, low and even, each word measured with tension that practically vibrated from his body. He was ramrod straight as his chest moved up and down with his quick breaths.
The sharp trill of his cellphone snapped them both out of the moment, and she watched as he fumbled on the table for the device.
“What?” he yelled.
