Page 129 of 1001 Dark Nights: Bundle Forty-Two

“I’m not sure.” She pressed her mouth to one side as sheconsidered it. “Maybe something bow-chicka-wow-ish?”

He had to refocus every ounce of strength in his body tokeep from laughing. To hide his face, he leaned past her to turn on the radio.“Let’s just see what’s available.”

“Right. Good idea.”

After a quick search, something appropriately smooth cameon.

“Oh, Rihanna!” she said, clapping softly. Then, as thoughembarrassed, she added, “This is a good song.”

“I’ll take your word for it. What next?”

“Hmmm.” She tapped her chin with an index finger. “Well, Idon’t want to seem forward—”

“Of course, not.”

“—but you should probably take off your shirt.”

“Just me?”

She glanced down at her zippered hoodie. “Good point. Imean, it’s only fair, right?”

“Fair is fair.”

“Fair is definitely fair.” She started to unzip the hoodiebut stopped when he didn’t move to do the same.

When she pointed her chin at the T-shirt, he reached for theback of the collar and lifted it over his head. He could’ve sworn he heard asoft gasp, but he wasn’t sure.

He tossed Swopes’ tee onto the passenger’s seat, and sheslowly lowered the zipper on her hoodie without taking her eyes off his chest.He suddenly worried that his tattoos would turn her off. She didn’t seem to bebothered, but there was an entire demographic that found them appalling. Whichwas probably a big part of the reason he’d gotten them in the first place.Nothing like presenting himself as a hellraiser to keep the puritans at bay. Hewas a walking defense mechanism. Would she see through him? Did he care?

With a jolt of surprise, he realized that he did. But why?He’d never cared. Then again, he’d never met anyone like the doc. And that wasbefore he knew what she was. Most of the women he’d taken to his bed hadpractically begged him to do so. He’d never hit on a woman in his life. He’dnever had to. But the doc was different. He could see himself begging for herattention. Willingly. Gladly. Desperately.

When she literally separated one tooth of the zipper at atime, her movements painstakingly slow, he couldn’t take it any longer. He tookthe zipper out of her hands, slid it all the way down, and peeled the jacketoff her shoulders.

Her powerful scent engulfed him. Exotic and sweet, itsurrounded, saturated, and stirred, pumping blood into his cock. When shestarted on the buttons of her white blouse, he didn’t have it in him to wait.Praying the garment didn’t cost more than his Harley, he took the edges andripped it open. Her breasts, held by the barest hint of a lace bra, spilledforth, and for a moment, he was mesmerized. Until his gaze dropped to herstomach. To the side of her ribs. To her right shoulder.

It was like someone threw a bucket of ice water on him. No, not ice water. Boiling honey. When she went tocover her midsection with her arms, he didn’t let her. He took hold of herwrists and locked them behind her back for a better look.

Scars of every size and shape adorned her beautiful body,and his blood turned bitingly cold. He didn’t realize how much so until shewinced and jerked her hands out of his grip.

“I’m sorry,” he said, but it was too late. He’d ruined themood. He bit back a curse when she pulled her shirt together and climbed offhis lap.

Chapter Nine

Know thy lane and

stay the fuck in it.

—Charley 1:12

Sia could hardly blame Donovan for being shocked. Forfinding this body unattractive. For finding her unattractive. Shepulled the shirt together, her shoulders inching up as she tried to climb outof his lap.

He stayed her with two large handson her shoulders.

She fought a sting at the backs ofher eyes but couldn’t look at him. Humiliation tore through her like awildfire, hot and all-consuming. She’d been too brazen, too bold when she hadno right to be. He was a god compared to her, and she was barely even human.

“It’s okay,” she said, trying to wiggle out of his embrace.“We don’t have to do anything.”

“We’ll get to that. Are you sure he’s dead?” he asked, hisvoice hoarse and yet razor-sharp.