The Pack: Rule Number 1 - No Mates

Chapter Three Hundred Eight

KENDALL

Fired me? Firrrreeeed meee?

For what? Falling down the stairs?

Oh no. Oh hell no!

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Shake yourself Kendall, it’s time to let this bastard have a dose.

“You can’t do that!” I snap, desperation tingling through my system and pushing to the surface. “I haven’t done a motherfucken thing wrong!” I quip, sliding out of the booth to my feet, and getting up in his face.

But Timmons isn’t looking at me, although he’s still standing exactly where he was just a moment ago, when he dropped me onto the seat, his face is turned away and his eyes are on Charlie. “You can’t date the help and manage it, Chuck. Sleeping with the employees is not allowed, and promiscuous blondes are not only bad for business, but they carry disease.”

What. The. Fuck?

My eyes heat as they fall over this handsome bastard as if seeing him for the first time. “You should know something else about promiscuous blondes-” I hiss shoving him in the chest as I do – nevermind that he doesn’t budge “-they are also prone to violence.”

It’s almost too perfect, the way his face snaps toward me at the exact same time that my left hand goes flying for his stupid mug. I’m suddenly in that mode, you know, that fuck it mode you never seem to see coming. The one that doesn’t give you even a moment of foreplay before you hop on and ride. My hand connects with his skin and the sound cracks across the space to bounce along the walls.

It was a damn good slap.

But my hand just might be broken.

A loud shatter sounds as Charlie’s mouth drops open along with glass in his hands. Shock and fear for the next few moments of my existence shine in his eyes and a strangled, incoherent cry warbles from his mouth.

Yeah, I know.

It was nce meeting you too Charlie.

Timmons‘ eyes swirl with a glowing yellow light, firing around the orbs that coil his pupils like an electric current. The view is enough to cause me step to back in fear, especially when both of his hands shoot forward and fist in my hair. Sparks of pleasure explode across my scalp where his fingers tangle in my roots and my head tilts back. Despite my predicament, a heady moan escapes my lips, my common sense unable to override the cataclysmic fantasy of this leading somewhere other than behind bars. In the back of my mind, I’m allowed to notice how absolutely delicious his forearms look this close up, and some pathetic part of me tries to imagine he’s about to kiss me, instead of what he actually does, which is flip me around, bend me over the table, and yank my arms behind my back.

Damn it.

Now, I am going to jail…

Shit.

Timmons chuckles humorlessly, wrenching my wrists together with so much force that I cry out and drool slips from my mouth and out onto the table. From behind me, his body pressing roughly into mine. In a way that I might enjoy if we were anywhere else but here, but…we are here, and…I’m fucked,

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words smarting as his head dips down next to my ear. “Have you lost your fucken mind? Assaulting an officer? Oh…you are so

Yeah, I know.

clear view of the sidewalk through the window, and from my vantage point on the polished wooden tabletop, I am allowed the

hear the unmistakable sound of handcuffs hitting the table

and nearly tripping over a chair as he gallops toward us. “Be

yourself a different slut to stroke at night. This one for

be back

Charlie

to the surface as I think of all

sees you now

you get what you wanted?

easing. I don’t know what did it, my declaration of hate or my tears, but I hear the disbelief in Timmons voice when he asks, “Did you say that

hear it. Like he really imagined there wasn’t anything he could ever do to me to inspire the loathing/ am feeling for him now. With

gather and drop uselessly from my eyes. My heart rate is skyrocketing, pumping pain into my bloodstream like

Oh fuck.

bar is closed tonight,” Timmons says in a cold,

starts, and I feel his hand on my shoulder, stroking across my back in a soothing

I protest, pushing up from the table, just enough to peel my forehead away from the wood and straighten my back a bit. But I keep myself pressed away from Timmons, because I won’t be letting

CHUCK!” he snaps. “Now!

sighs heavily and I watch as he exits out the front of the bar. A chorus of boos and whys follow

he closes in on my back, his gloriously chiseled arms coming around either side of me and caging me in from behind. The dude is so big that he doesn’t even have to touch me to do this. Hot breath flutters into my hair and

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making him look almost vulnerable. Even with

I may be imagining it. I happen to do that quite a bit with

lining the hot steel of his powerful frame up against the softness

1. me.

me…being the loser I am…I can’t help but taste

Oh God!!!!

pulsing somewhere

has to

because guns don’t swell and harden. At least, not that I’m aware. If I push back

will know.

do that, he already thinks you’re the town tramp.

he smells like lemon candy.

am suddenly dying for