She tipped her head to the side, watching as she rubbed her knuckles along his jaw.

Her touch was a different kind of sweet.

“Are you for real?” she asked like she wasn’t talking to him.

And that was a different, even better kind of sweet.

He dug his fingers into her flesh gently. “Do I feel real?”

Her gaze came back to his. “Physically, yes. Other ways, it’s like I made you up.”

Jesus, that just plain felt good.

Christ, it felt good.

Fuck, it felt even better than having all the beauty that was her straddling his lap with it being her that put it there.

He slid his hands back and pulled her closer. “You didn’t make me up.”

“Did Essence’s fairy magic do it?”

He smiled at her as his hands made her shoulder blades. “Maybe.”

“I hope it lasts awhile,” she whispered, her focus on his lips.

She was being cute.

But he was done with this.

And the cock she was sitting on was so done with this.

To share that, he slid one hand up to her neck, the other around her and muttered, “Babe.”

He hadn’t noticed the phone stop ringing until it started again.

She turned her head toward the kitchen.

Shit.

“Rebel,” he called.

She turned her head back.

He slid his hand up into her hair.

She took the hint and dropped her mouth to his.

He angled his head.

She tipped hers the other way.

He was going to go gentle.

But she rolled her hips on his dick.

Oh yeah.

She was ready to get busy.

So he went in fast and deep.

Her fingers slid up into his hair.

His fingers slid back to shove the cardigan off her shoulders.

He lost her hands in his hair when she pushed her arms back for him to pull the cardigan down them.

He did and tossed it away.

She tangled her tongue with his, pressing her hips into his, her chest to his, her hand cupping his jaw, her other back in his hair.

He wound an arm around her hips, the fingers of his other hand he drove into her hair.

Rush held her to him and took her mouth and she gave it, fuck. All that sweet was phenomenal.

She liked to kiss. She liked contact. She liked claiming touch, giving and taking. She liked tongue. And if those sounds she was making were any indication while she rubbed against his now-hard cock, she fucking loved what she was doing to him.

And it went without saying, he loved it too.

He’d find he was right when he whipped her to her back on the couch, covered her and she breathed, “Yes.”

Fuck yes.

He took her mouth and she wrapped a leg around his thigh.

Her leg free to do that, serious as fuck, he liked this dress.

His hand went to the hem, in and up.

Silky skin. Smooth. Warm.

He wanted more.

She lifted her hips into his crotch.

Rebel wanted more too.

He growled into her mouth and guided his hand toward her tit.

Her phone rang again.

He tore his lips from hers and scowled toward the kitchen.

“Baby,” she whispered.

He looked down at her.

Christ, her face.

His dick twitched.

She was right there with him and she didn’t want to be anywhere else.

“Your phone ring this much?” he asked.

“Rush—”

“Does it?”

She shook her head, coming out of her haze and studying him.

He said what he very much did not want to say when his hand was finally up her dress and two inches from her tit.

“I think you need to get that.”

Before he could change his mind, Rush extracted his hand, knifed off her and moved to her phone.

It had stopped ringing by the time he got to where it was sitting on top of her purse on his kitchen counter.

But he caught the screen that had three of the same notifications on it: Essence Missed Call.

Shit, shit, fuck.

He looked from it to see she was walking toward him in nothing but that dress and those boots, and he could not believe he was hoping this was just some hippie cock-blocking joke and this would be done in five minutes so they could say goodbye to his couch and he could take them right to his bed.

“Who?” she asked.

“Essence,” he told her, handing her the phone when she stopped in front of him.

Her expression showed nothing but concern as she bent her head and started swiping at her phone.

“She fuck with you on dates?” he asked.

“No way,” she whispered, put the phone to her ear and her attention to his face. “Essence?” Pause. “Wait. Slow down. A what?”

Her gaze drifted away as all the color left her face.

Rush growled and put a hand to her hip, using it to guide her to his body.

Her eyes shot back to his. “Did you call the police?”

“Fuck,” he clipped.

“Okay. Good. Stay inside. Wait for them. You’re inside, yeah?”

“Fuck,” he hissed, letting her go and twisting to grab her purse.

“Right. Okay, honey. Right. Right. Essence, darling, slow down. Listen. Rush and I are coming.”

And they were.

He had her hand in one of his, her purse in his other, and he was dragging her to the back door.

“We’ll be there as fast as we can. Stay inside until the police get there. Promise me?”

They were out the back door and taking the steps down to the walk and they were doing it fast.

“Okay. Be there soon.”

He turned his head to look at her when he sensed her off the phone.

“What?” he asked.

“She heard a screech of tires.”

He stopped them at his back gate and stared at her face.

“A long honk,” she went on. “Another screech of tires. She looked outside, a car was taking off. But she saw something in the street. She went out.” She shook her head and then chanted, “Rush. Rush.”

She was losing it, spasmodically pumping his hand hard.

“Baby, get it out.”

“She said it was a dead body. A woman.”

“Fuck,” he bit, lifted the latch and yanked her through the gate.

He did not wait for her to climb up into his truck.

He lifted her ass into the seat and dropped her purse in her lap.

Then he jogged around the hood and hauled himself in the other side.

He had an arm on the back of her seat, looking over his shoulder, ready to back out before he put the truck in reverse.

They’d hit 13th when she asked, “How freaked should I be a dead body was dumped in front of Essence’s house?”

About as freaked as him.

Which was to say pretty fucking freaked.

Rush grabbed her hand and held tight. “Don’t freak until you know. It could be a coincidence.”

“I’m not thinking it’s a coincidence.”

He wasn’t either.

“Essence told me she knew some Hell’s Angels. She got a bad element she hangs around?” he asked.

“She told you she knows some Hell’s Angels?”

“Yeah, when she was threatening me.”

Her voice was rising. “How much did you two talk before you hit my house?”

He gave her hand a squeeze. “Answer the question, baby.”

“Essence probably totally knows some Hell’s Angels because, hear her tell it, she’d party with just about anyone, back in the day and now. But they’d be devoted to her. Or as devoted as a Hell’s Angel could get to a being with a vagina.”

Right.

“That fake name you’re workin’ for Valenzuela under, it come with a fake address?” he asked.

“Fake address. Fake social. Fake everything. Hank and Eddie set it up for me.”

“How do you get paid?”

“Direct deposit.”

“Fuck,” he muttered.

“In a bank account under Tallulah Monroe, Rush. I have a fake ID I used to open it. Got an ATM card. The whole thing. Outside me accessing that money personally, it isn’t linked to me at all.”

He let out a breath and turned right on Speer.

“Rush.”