Page 42 of Rebel
“Kinsley, don’t pushme.”
“Or what?” I turn my head too fast for him to back away, our noses almost bump because I miscalculated how close he is.
Neither one wants to be the first to back off. It’s a struggle to focus on one thing as I take in his features, his pitch-dark eyes have the barest hint of brown flecks around the pupil, and his black lashes are long, framing them perfectly. He has a sprinkle of pale freckles over the bridge of his nose and under his eyes, that would be endearing if he wasn’t a big, scary biker.
I’ve been up close and personal with him a few times now, but have never noticed these little things about him. I’ve never thought to pay any attention to them until now. It’s a struggle not to let him see how he is affecting me.
“If you see anyone else wearing that cut, you walk away.”
“Who was he?”
“Do you hear me?”
“You say that like you have a say in what I do.”
People around us are leaving the bar. I don’t know if anyone is paying attention to us because Rebel’s face is filling up my vision, stealing my ability to draw breath or squash the need to jump him.
“Colton can’t control me, your crap at reading people.”
“I don’t need to use anyone else to control you, little villain.” His feet shuffle even closer. My chest is almost touching his abdomen at this point. “I can get you in line all by myself.”
Who knows what possesses me, I put a hand on his chest, right over where he still has marks from where I clawed his skin, where I drew his blood.
Everything around us sucks in like a void of darkness, and all sounds are shut out, as if we’re in a bubble that the rest of the room can’t see.
His eyes flick back and forth between mine. His gaze so intense a shiver runs down my spine that he definitely sees, his pupils dilate, taking away those light flecks. His heart is pounding against my palm. He isn’t as unaffected as he likes to pretend.
The tension that has sprung up between us is sharp and sexually charged and oh, so messy.
It’s as if I’m underwater, drowning in his dark eyes. The noises filter back into my brain, the sound of Raven talking, a door slamming, and a phone ringing.
It takes a second to realize it’s mine. Rebel raises a brow and looks down at my hand, still planted against his chest. Flustered but not wanting to show it, I draw my hand back and pull out my phone. The name on the screen makes everything go cold.
“Why is a cop calling you?”
I shake out of the stupor of seeing his name and look up at Rebel. He’s moved back but is still in my personal space and it suddenly feels suffocating.
“None of your business.” I twist and get off the stool on the opposite side to where he is standing.
The phone has stopped ringing, and I shove it into the back pocket of my jeans. It’s been months since he called.
“Kinsley.”
Hearing him say my name like that makes me cringe.
“Who is that and why do you look scared?” he asks, taking a step closer. “Don’t lie to me, it’s written all over your face.”
“I’m not scared,” I lie. “You’ve been telling me to go, pushing me out the door from the moment you walked in here. Well, now I’m doing it.”
Without another word, I walk out and leave him behind, just as he wanted.
Chapter Twelve
Rebel
The last time I was at Nero’s house, we were scraping a dead body off the kitchen floor. A man who broke in here intending to hurt Taylor and Jesse and take Nero’s son. He deserved what he got and more.
There is no sign of the damage done that day, and Nero hasn’t shied away from being here, despite the violence. If Taylor was hoping to come here, or even her dad’s house across town, she’s in for disappointment. Nero is determined to keep his old lady away from danger.
