Slow Burn by Nicole Christie Read Free Book Online Page B

shirt off!” he shouts furiously, trying to pull Nick’s shirt—along with my own—over my head.
    P sycho!  The fight pours back into me, and my adrenaline kicks up as I twist my body away from him.  My shirt tears in the scuffle.  I clench my teeth and bring my knee up to his ribs.  He grunts and grabs my face with both hands, crashing his lips over mine.
    For an insane few seconds , I kiss him back.  Then my teeth sink into his lower lip, and the metallic taste of blood fills my mouth.  He winces but doesn’t pull back, trying to settle his body closer against mine.  I’m the one to turn away.
    “You taste like her ,” I snap, roughly pushing his face back.
    “You jealous?” he ta unts, snaking a hand up my back.  “Come on, Teeny.  I could fuck you on the spin cycle, too.  You heard how much Dani enjoyed it.”
    He knows that bitch’s name?!   That’s even worse!
    I’m only aware of a roaring sound in my ears.  I think the term “batshit crazy” is meant for special moments like this.
    The next thing I know, Johnny’s gone, and I’m sliding into a puddle on the ground.  Dazed, I look up to see him being restrained by Dean in a chicken wing hold, inches from me.  I seize the opportunity and punch Johnny in the junk.  Dean, caught off guard by my attack , releases Johnny.  Now it’s that asshole’s turn to sink to the ground, groaning in pain.  Good!  I hope I broke it!
    I try to launch myself at his curled up body, but Dean grabs me in midair.  “That’s enough,” he growls, holding me like a tantrum-throwing child.
    For a brief moment, my face is pressed against his rock hard chest.  I inhale sharply, smelling fresh guy-just-out-of-the-shower mixed with something warm and woodsy.
    “Let her go, Dean! ”
    Johnny is already on his feet.  Tough guy.  The anger has drained out of his face.  He looks, at once, miserable and anxious.  He tries to reach for me, and I bite his hand. 
    “Teeny…”
    “Go to hell!” I spit out.
    “I’m taking her home,” Dean says, keeping his big body between us, easily holding us apart.
    “No!  I need to talk to her…”
    I try to slip out of Dean’s iron grip on my arm.  It’s not happening.  “There’s nothing to talk about,” I say flatly.  “What kind of asshole screws another girl the second he thinks his girlfriend is cheating on him?”
    His face crumples in agony.  He reaches for me again.
    Dean butts him away with one broad shoulder.  “Sleep it off,” he snaps, his expression strongly discouraging any arguments.
    Johnny leans around Dean, and narrows his light blue eyes at me.  “I’m not done with you,” he promises.
    God help me, I want to punch him in the junk again .  Flinging Dean’s hand off me, I turn and stalk away.
    He catches up to me, and starts herding me in the other direction, toward the garage.  I let myself sag against him, sud denly boneless.  He immediately stiffens and pulls away a little.  Well, screw you.  I don’t dare look back at Johnny.
    Dean leads me to the side of the garage where there’s a door with a number pad lock.  He keys in the code, and the door unlocks.  He holds it open for me, and I step in, my eyes dazzled by the fluorescent lights, and the row of fancy cars.  I head straight for the gleaming ’66 Pontiac GTO.  Everyone knows Dean’s badass car by sight, though I don’t think I’ve ever seen a passenger in it.
    I try to open the car door, but it doesn’t budge.  I yank at the handle, my frustration and anger peaking.  Dean reaches over me through the open window to unlock the door.  Mortified, I get in and sink into the leather seat.  I go to busy myself with the seatbelt—only to discover some kind of complicated harness situation that I am just too tired to bother with.
    Unfortunately, Dean is the Seatbelt Police.  He pulls the straps over my head, and when his hand accidentally brushes against my breast, I slap him away and buckle myself in.  I