that Thorn would look at her the longest.
“What the fuck are you doing here, Chet?” Thorn asks.
Chet smiles. “Please.” His eyes flick to Kiki. “Call me Sin.”
Thorn pulls a face. “Fuck that.” Thorn jabs a thumb at the door. “Leave through where you came. You want to watch the girls get their groove on? Come back when it's operational.”
“Mick said I could come by anytime.”
I move closer and catch Chet’s eyes flash to Thorn.
Thorn moves in until their chests are almost touching.
“Good. News. Then.” Thorn plugs a thumb in Chet’s muscular chest.
I gulp.
Testosterone swarms the area like tear gas, and Kiki and I look at each other.
“Since I'm manager, I'll go ahead and manage, douche.”
“Here, Kiki, my sweet.” Chet flings the top toward Kiki.
She catches it, and her beautiful breasts are revealed for that second it takes her to catch it.
Chet Sinclair loves her body with his eyes, smiling slightly when she slams her bits back into the halter.
Thorn hesitates and my breath catches as he grabs Chet by the expensive collar.
9
Thorn
Chet's pansy cologne fills my lungs, burning my nerves along with insulting me with the cost.
Fucker.
He laughs in my face.
I want to punch his teeth down his throat.
Not liking the way he's sniffing around Kik. I wouldn't like it even if she dug him, but it doesn't seem like she does.
“Wrecking my shirt, caveman,” Chet says in a low voice of warning.
Thing is, I tighten my grip to a stranglehold, he would be tough to put down.
Chet's put himself through the paces of every kind of body conditioning and martial arts available. He's got the money for it. The time. God knows he probably smokes cigars while chucking bundles of cash in an incinerator at his McMansion somewhere in a neighborhood like Medina.
I drop my hands and slash my eyes to Kiki briefly.
She's dressed.
“Thorn!” a female screams.
It's like I hit my funny bone. Nails down a chalk board. Sticking my finger in a light socket.
That voice lights me up from the inside out.
Simone.
Her throaty tone has vanished, replaced with a high-pitched keening not of fear but warning.
I turn back to Chet and meet his fist.
It's not a glancing blow, and I see stars. I begin to topple like a mighty tree.
My focus spins.
Sharpens.
I've been blurry and disoriented so many times, I absolutely go automatic. I let the primal boy out to play in the sandbox with Chet.
I slash out blindly, striking hard where the mass of his body is located. I automatically guess where his sternum would be.
“ Holy fucking crow!”
I don't listen to Kiki. My red veil of rage descends, and I roll with my strike, landing on Chet. He maneuvers in a hip swivel, dislodging me in a classic counter.
I bounce to my feet, and so does he.
His perfectly tousled hair looks pretty fucked up.
Loving it.
I move my punch from my shoulder, and he blocks it with a forearm. He grunts, and I know I've numbed his arm.
Chet moves in tight. At six feet two, he's an inch shorter than me and twenty pounds lighter, but he's so fast, he floats.
Lunging low, he rolls from the hips and grabs me around the waist, tossing me on a table.
I bring my knee up, aiming for his balls.
Assuming he's got some.
He turns, protecting the jewels and I palm his head into the table.
Boom. The crack of his skull resonates in time to the music.
He jams the heel of his palm into my chin.
Something pulls on me, and my instinct is to backhand whatever is on me.
“Thorn.”
A soft voice pulls me back as my chin strains against Sinclair's hand.
“Chet!” Kiki screams.
His hand releases my chin as he smoothly rolls off the round table by the stage.
We square off, the table between us.
Kiki looks like a Barbie dipped in pink. So small and curvy, sitting on the stage glaring at Chet.
He laughs, wiping his bleeding mouth. His eyes shoot a glance over her shoulder at me. “Have the girls protecting you now, Ty?”
I hate his rich
“What the fuck are you doing here, Chet?” Thorn asks.
Chet smiles. “Please.” His eyes flick to Kiki. “Call me Sin.”
Thorn pulls a face. “Fuck that.” Thorn jabs a thumb at the door. “Leave through where you came. You want to watch the girls get their groove on? Come back when it's operational.”
“Mick said I could come by anytime.”
I move closer and catch Chet’s eyes flash to Thorn.
Thorn moves in until their chests are almost touching.
“Good. News. Then.” Thorn plugs a thumb in Chet’s muscular chest.
I gulp.
Testosterone swarms the area like tear gas, and Kiki and I look at each other.
“Since I'm manager, I'll go ahead and manage, douche.”
“Here, Kiki, my sweet.” Chet flings the top toward Kiki.
She catches it, and her beautiful breasts are revealed for that second it takes her to catch it.
Chet Sinclair loves her body with his eyes, smiling slightly when she slams her bits back into the halter.
Thorn hesitates and my breath catches as he grabs Chet by the expensive collar.
9
Thorn
Chet's pansy cologne fills my lungs, burning my nerves along with insulting me with the cost.
Fucker.
He laughs in my face.
I want to punch his teeth down his throat.
Not liking the way he's sniffing around Kik. I wouldn't like it even if she dug him, but it doesn't seem like she does.
“Wrecking my shirt, caveman,” Chet says in a low voice of warning.
Thing is, I tighten my grip to a stranglehold, he would be tough to put down.
Chet's put himself through the paces of every kind of body conditioning and martial arts available. He's got the money for it. The time. God knows he probably smokes cigars while chucking bundles of cash in an incinerator at his McMansion somewhere in a neighborhood like Medina.
I drop my hands and slash my eyes to Kiki briefly.
She's dressed.
“Thorn!” a female screams.
It's like I hit my funny bone. Nails down a chalk board. Sticking my finger in a light socket.
That voice lights me up from the inside out.
Simone.
Her throaty tone has vanished, replaced with a high-pitched keening not of fear but warning.
I turn back to Chet and meet his fist.
It's not a glancing blow, and I see stars. I begin to topple like a mighty tree.
My focus spins.
Sharpens.
I've been blurry and disoriented so many times, I absolutely go automatic. I let the primal boy out to play in the sandbox with Chet.
I slash out blindly, striking hard where the mass of his body is located. I automatically guess where his sternum would be.
“ Holy fucking crow!”
I don't listen to Kiki. My red veil of rage descends, and I roll with my strike, landing on Chet. He maneuvers in a hip swivel, dislodging me in a classic counter.
I bounce to my feet, and so does he.
His perfectly tousled hair looks pretty fucked up.
Loving it.
I move my punch from my shoulder, and he blocks it with a forearm. He grunts, and I know I've numbed his arm.
Chet moves in tight. At six feet two, he's an inch shorter than me and twenty pounds lighter, but he's so fast, he floats.
Lunging low, he rolls from the hips and grabs me around the waist, tossing me on a table.
I bring my knee up, aiming for his balls.
Assuming he's got some.
He turns, protecting the jewels and I palm his head into the table.
Boom. The crack of his skull resonates in time to the music.
He jams the heel of his palm into my chin.
Something pulls on me, and my instinct is to backhand whatever is on me.
“Thorn.”
A soft voice pulls me back as my chin strains against Sinclair's hand.
“Chet!” Kiki screams.
His hand releases my chin as he smoothly rolls off the round table by the stage.
We square off, the table between us.
Kiki looks like a Barbie dipped in pink. So small and curvy, sitting on the stage glaring at Chet.
He laughs, wiping his bleeding mouth. His eyes shoot a glance over her shoulder at me. “Have the girls protecting you now, Ty?”
I hate his rich
Similar Books
