Opposites Ignite by Sadira Stone (crime books to read .txt) 📗

“Jesus!” Eddie nearly shat himself when she turned toward him holding a severed hand. He jolted backward, landing on her bed with a bounce.

At last, she cracked a smile. “Don’t freak out. It’s just silicone, for tattoo practice.” She tossed him the rubbery appendage, which bounced off his lap and onto the floor. Gingerly, he picked it up by the pinky. A half-finished floral design, delicate and somehow familiar, was etched across its back, with vines and leaves trailing up the fingers.

“Recognize the flowers from your mom’s tablecloth?” She cleared away tiny pots of ink, paper towels, squirt bottles, and a black device that looked like a nose hair trimmer.

“Is that a tattoo gun?”

“We prefer tattoo machine. And yeah, just a cheap model to practice. Mostly on sheets of synthetic skin, but I got a hand and foot last week. I’m saving up for a set of tits.”

He didn’t know whether to laugh or gag. Needles were creepy enough, but rubber body parts? Still, his mission was to show his support, not get all squicked out by her artwork.

Rosie set the little table and opened a second folding chair while he unwrapped the pirozhki. “We got beef and onion, potato and cheese, cabbage and mushroom.”

“Can I try a little of each?”

“Good choice.” He divvied them up, and they dug into the greasy pastries. Rosie chewed slowly, then leaned back in her chair and groaned—a sexy sound that made him want to toss her onto the bed and do dirty, dirty things to her.

Focus. “So, lousy interview, huh?”

“I mean, the woman was nice, but she’d already picked an apprentice by the time I got there. Said she’d pass my card to her tattoo artist friends.” Her shoulders slumped as she poked at her food. “She told me not to get discouraged, but it’s so fuckin’ frustrating.”

“Hey.” He scooted his chair closer. “It’s gonna happen for you. I can feel it in my bones.” He squeezed her knee, then massaged his way up her thigh. “What can I do to make you feel better?”

She didn’t take the bait, but she did snuggle his shoulder. Her soft curls tickled his neck. “You’re the best—bringing me food and listening to me whine.”

“It’s natural to feel frustrated when you have to knock on a million doors before one finally opens.”

“Exactly. And on top of that, my period started during the interview. So, rejection plus killer cramps. It’s been a shitty day on all fronts.”

“Except this morning?” He rubbed her lower back in slow circles.

“That seems like a million years ago.” She chuckled, a low, gritty sound. “But yeah, last night was amazing.”

“Any chance we could try again tonight?”

Her groan was answer enough.

“Okay, I’ll wait as long as you need. Just know that I don’t care about, you know, messy sex.”

“Really?” She sniffled. “The guy who turns green when he sees a rubber hand isn’t squeamish?”

“As long as no needles are involved, it’s fine.” He lifted her hand and feathered a kiss over her knuckles. “No pressure, though. I want you to want it too.”

A crooked smile played over her lips. “So noted.” She smooched his cheek before forking up another mouthful. “Wow. Who knew cabbage could be this delicious?”

Watching her eat with such honest enjoyment only made his stupid dick stand up and beg for attention.

“Please don’t take it as a rejection.” She patted her lower belly. “It’s just that right now everything down here hurts, and I don’t want to poke the beast.”

“Right. No beast poking.” He wiped his hands and dug out his notebook. “Let’s talk dates.”

She blinked rapidly. “Dates for what?”

“For us to, you know, hang out. Get to know each other away from the bar.”

“And out of your bed?” Her grin brimmed with mischief. There—at least he had her smiling again.

“Well, I’m hoping we’ll land there as soon as you’re willing. But in the meantime, are you free on Saturday afternoon?”

“Don’t you work at your parents’ shop then?”

“Normally, yes. But you made such a good impression they’re giving me the afternoon off.” It had taken some pleading on his part, but she didn’t need to know that. “Tell me where you like to go, what you like to do.”

“Mr. List Maker.” She chuckled. “Tell you what—why don’t you take me somewhere you like to go. That way I can get to know you better.”

He chewed the inside of his cheek. This was not going according to plan. Besides, other than occasional trips to Seattle to visit his family, he didn’t really go much of anywhere this time of year—just work, home, and Jojo’s garage. He’d have to pick Lana’s brain tonight at work. He snapped the notebook shut. “No clues, huh? You’re making this hard on me, Chu.”

She ran her stockinged foot up his calf. “Not my intention, Volkov. If my mom weren’t home, I’d do my best to relieve your”—she snickered—“hardness.”

His gaze slid to the door. Diana’s TV show was still audible, though probably not loud enough—unless they were very, very quiet.

Rosie must’ve picked up on his thoughts because she wiped the grease from her lips before sashaying to the dresser and cranking up the volume on her little speaker. Cascades of tinkling notes, soft drumbeats, and wordless alto warbling filled the room. She lifted a fat satin pillow from her bed and dropped it at his feet.

“C’mere,” she purred. “I want dessert.”

“But I thought—” Her mixed signals were making him dizzy.

She feathered the back of her forefinger over his jawline. “You’re so adorable when you’re turned on. I want to touch you, Eddie. Can I do that?”

“You don’t have to.”

Her smile bloomed with wicked promises. “I know. But I want to.”

He murmured a prayer of thanks as she knelt between his knees, hands firmly kneading his thighs. His poor cock throbbed, pressed so hard against his zipper it must’ve left permanent teeth marks by now.

Rosie’s chuckle vibrated all the way to his bones. “You’re so responsive.” Holding his gaze, she unfastened his belt and slowly slid his zipper down.