Entangled (Brutes of Bristlebrook #2)

by Rebecca Quinn

“For the love of God, Beau, stop,” I beg on a hitching sob. Is that snot coming out of my nose? Why is being sad so disgusting? “I can’t get this”—sniff, sob—“under control”—sob, wail, cry—“while you’re being nice.” His pretty eyes roll up in exasperation. “You want me to be mean to you?” I wipe uselessly at my traitorous eyes again. “If it wouldn’t be too much trouble.” Beau scrubs a long-suffering hand over his too-tempting face, then he scowls. “Your hair is a mess and your breath smells like something died in your throat. Happy now?” I stare at him. “Why would you say that?” I keen, as a raw, hacking sob shakes my whole body. Beau straightens off the door, looking nothing short of panicked. “No—no, no, no. I was just doing what you said!” “I said be mean, not cruel.” I touch my hair, unable to stop the way my whole body is wracked with tears. My lip trembles. “What’s wrong with my hair? Dom said it was nice.”

“Oh, and Heather?” Lucky calls. Heather glances back at Lucky as she reaches the door. He dimples sweetly, looking up at her hair. “You call my boyfriend a middle-aged washout again, and your hair won’t be blue. It will be gone.” She leans back, smiling back just as sweetly. Her hair really is fucked. “You touch my hair again, and I’ll snip off the end of every flogger, break every cane, and burn every rope in your smutty little cock cave.” Heather finger waves at Lucky’s horrified stare, then drags me out.