Latte Darling (Darling, #2)

by S.J. Tilly

This man is an absolute Silver Fox and my libido that’s been slumbering in hibernation for the last decade just woke the fuck up. I swear my eyes have turned into tiny hearts as I blink up at this handsome giant, and that’s when I remember I’m still bent over the table, my low-cut shirt surely gaping obscenely.

Every motorcycle club romance book I’ve ever read flashes through my mind, and I briefly imagine him carrying me away to some dungeon where he does dirty, dirty things to me.

I press my lips together to keep from grinning. This guy has gone into full Daddy Bear mode and it’s amazing. If we weren’t in public, and magic was real, I’d morph my clothes into a schoolgirl outfit and climb into his lap. I’ve been skipping classes, too.

“Would you like another one, Baby?” Baby. Fuck me. Every single one of his words sounds like honied gravel and the deepness of them vibrates through my body, settling in my panties.

The server starts to walk away, and as Axel turns his head back to face me, I catch the wide-eyed look that the waitress throws my way – a look that says holy shit that man is hot. I raise my brows in a oh my god I know look before she turns away and heads to the bar.

I make sure my mouth stays shut as I watch his lips press against the chilled glass. His thick neck working as he swallows down a mouthful of the red liquid, and I feel that movement everywhere. Sweet baby Jesus, this is how I die. I’m going to self-combust in this bar. I’ll turn into a pile of ash that they’ll sweep away with the discarded straws at the end of the night.

“Good?” I ask, surprised I can even speak. “It’s sweet.” He places the drink back in front of me. “I didn’t think it’d be my thing, but…” “But?” I prompt when he doesn’t finish. “But now that I’ve tasted it, I think I might need more.” Oh, pretty, pretty please be talking about me.

The second I push up to stand, I realize just how much vodka I’ve consumed. Woah, girl. I sway a little. You’re fucking Drunk with a capital D. Then I snicker a little to myself. I wish I was getting some actual D.

I couldn’t decide if I wanted to flip every table in this stupid place, or if I wanted to pull her into my lap, wrap my arms around her, and tell her she’d never be alone again.

I can’t look away. The tight denim is molded to every delicious inch of her, and I want to bury my face between those cheeks.

I clear my throat wanting to curse my luck. It’s like the universe knew my type exactly, and dropped her in my lap, about 20 years too young, just to drive me mad. And nothing against skinny women -I’m really not picky, and I’m well aware that the personality makes or breaks someone’s attractiveness - but big girls have always been my thing. Maddie just happens to be both curvy and tiny. Something I didn’t know I wanted until now.

Her response is hardly a breath and if she keeps looking at me like that, it’s not gonna be a sandwich that I’m eating as a midnight snack.

“If you’d like to stay for a bit, you can. I’m just gonna get my pajamas on.” Leave, jackass. It’s time for you to leave. “I can stay for a while.” The angel on my shoulder throws up his hands, shaking his head in exasperation.

In tiny floral-patterned shorts, a spaghetti-strap pale blue tank top, and her hair spilling over her bare shoulders, she looks like a centerfold straight from my wildest dreams.

“Hi, Dean,” I can hear the smile in Maddie’s voice, and jealousy mixes with the lust coursing through my veins. I spare Dean a brief head nod, but I’m not here for him. I’m here for my girl. And if I make her scream loud enough for her punk neighbor to hear… so be it.

His giant frame is covered in a set of navy-blue coveralls. Or I should say he’s mostly covered. His sleeves are rolled up to the elbow and the zipper that should run up the center of his chest is unzipped all the way down to his waist, exposing the tight black shirt he’s wearing underneath. Letting the door swing shut behind him, Axel reaches up and runs his fingers through his hair – getting it out of his face. And that’s when I notice the sunglasses. Lord help me, I want Axel to fuck me while wearing this exact outfit.

The angel on my shoulder has long abandoned me, and the devil. Well, he has his dick in his hand and is beating one out to the scene in front of us.

But holy crap, if this is how he reacts when he’s mad, I might make it my weekly goal to piss him off.