Page 7 of Framed for Life
“Skull.”
My road name comes out so automatic now I have to dig for my birth certificate name but she’s busy murmuring,Skull.
And I like the sound of it way too damned much in that husky whisper.
“Mind if I down that beer right now?” I ask because I’m about to pass out myself from blood pooling issues.
“Sure. Can I have a sip?” she asks adorably, licking her lips. “My mouth is as dry as sawdust.”
Tell me about it. I got a case of the cotton mouth and the cure I really need is between her legs.
I pop the can and hold it up to her lips. My own throat becomes parched as I watch those glossed-up beauties touch the edge of the can.
After she takes a long drink I finish the can in one go, crushing it in my oversized hand as I do.
We go back to staring at each other. She’s breathing too fast. I’m not breathing at all.
“You two are gonna blow up the internet!” the photographer declares loud enough for the whole park to hear.
“Um, Anna,” the girl says, “Do you mind if we have a few seconds here. I’d like to catch my breath. Fainting rattled me.”
Fuck why didn’t I think of that?
I turn a scowl toward snap-a-holic and she startles.
“Oh. Of course. I’ll just wait over there with the picnic props.”
She scurries away and I stare at her back.
“That woman’s on something. I told her I’d get her into rehab.”
Fainting beauty laughs. And laughs some more. Her hand clutching my bicep to keep from falling off the table.
My entire body turns to a bolt of lightning.
I’m so in trouble here.
“You’re hilarious,” she half-wheezes between giggles. “And that death stare you gave her. Boy I’d hate to see you really mad.”
I chuckle.
WTF. I don’t chuckle.
“Want me to really scare her? My switchblade should do the trick.”
More giggling. “No I don’t want those weirdos that are staring at us to call the cops.”
I scan the park. Lots of stares on us right now.
Given that I’ve never had a shy bone in my life, I say, “Maybe we should give ‘em a show.”
Those green eyes pop wide and turn mischievous. “What are you thinking?”
“Bending you over my bike.”
She dissolves in laughter that slices me to fucking tatters. I catch her face again, unable to stop myself.
My tongue drags across my lip and I imagine the taste of her mouth. Instead, in a gravelly voice, I ask, “What’s your name?”
