Detained: Chapter 8

I shimmy on my dress as fast as I can and zip it up, heading out of the room.

Jax is leaning on the bar with a beer, watching me with a knowing grin as I walk through. My cheeks are still on fire from my encounter with Frankie. I can’t believe I just let him see me come, imagining it was him.

Fuck, it was hot.

Seeing him lose control for that split second, it was the hardest I’ve climaxed in a long time. That asshole owes me some answers.

I head towards the exit, the smell of cigarettes lingering in the hallway.

The door opens and two men walk in. That’s when my eyes lock on Frankie’s as he stands outside, hand in pocket, blowing a puff of smoke towards the door.

“Miss, your coat!”

I ignore the woman and slip out of the door into the darkness with Frankie.

“You didn’t feel like joining the girls?” he asks, holding out a packet of cigarettes to me. I take one, place it between my lips, and he lights it for me.

“Not really my thing. Now, I want my answers.”

“Go on, then,” he pauses and smirks. “You get one and so do I.”

I place my hand on my hip, the cool air causing me to shiver.

“That wasn’t the deal, Frankie.” I scowl at him.

He stretches one arm against the wall, framing me with his tall body.

“Tough. I’ll go first. Do you have a boyfriend?”

I blink a few times at him, his face expressionless.

“No.” I don’t know why I felt the need to even reveal that to him. As stalkers go, I’m doing a pretty shit job at this. I just want to know the answer to one burning question.

“Good,” he replies, blowing out smoke.

“Excuse me?”

He grins at me.

“I’d be pretty pissed if my girlfriend got herself off imagining another man fucking her.”

My mouth gapes open.

“You have no idea what I was thinking about.” I take a long drag. He leans towards me and I clench my thighs. Jesus, what is wrong with me?

I blow the smoke straight in his face, and he waves it nonchalantly out of the way.

“Now I know the most important thing there is to know about you, Zara.” He licks his lower lip.

“Really? What’s that?” I counter.

His head lowers, even with mine. “Just how absolutely breathtaking you look when you come thinking about me.”

His hungry eyes scan my body as he scratches his beard.

“Fuck off.” I glare at him.

He laughs. “You really don’t learn, do you?” His eyes darken as his finger trails up my bare arm, making me suck in a breath.

“Stop,” I whisper.

His chest rumbles as his voice deepens. “Admit you got off thinking about me.”

I shake my head, dropping my cigarette to the ground. He stamps it out for me, stroking along my collarbone.

I won’t ever let him know the truth. My heart races as his fingers loosely wrap around my throat.

“Say it.” His lips hover over mine.

“Why? Will it make you feel better about coming all over your hand watching me?” I raise my eyebrow at him, biting the inside of my mouth.

“I didn’t do that from watching you.” The tease of his smile grows.

“Really?” I bite back.

“Yes. Really. I came thinking about you tied up on my bed, your red ass up in the air as I fuck that little tight hole of yours as you beg me to let you finish.”

I gulp, snapping my lips together. That image forever engrained firmly in my mind.

“Quite the picture, isn’t it?” He tips his head to the side, his warm breath hitting against my jaw.

We lock eyes, and he releases me.

“My question.”

“Yes, detective. What have you got for me?”

“Maria. Why did you kill her?”

He rubs his beard. “Because that bitch deserved it.”

He leans back in and I hold my breath.

“I’m sure I’ll see you around, detective.” He salutes me and turns his back to me and walks down the alley. It leaves me breathless and on fire.

The door slams shut behind me, the sound doesn’t jostle me from the spell of watching him slip into the shadows.