Harm's Way: Riot MC Biloxi Karen Renee (top non fiction books of all time .txt) 📖

side. With my hands behind my neck, I untied the top part of my bikini, but since my girls were large and in charge, the top didn’t fall down.

His lips pouted for a moment and I fought giggling.

“You’re enjoying this too much, Miss Priss.”

A move I’d seen another dancer perform flitted through my mind. I turned around and bent over, swinging my hips while I did. For good measure, I twerked for a couple beats, only I suddenly felt a stinging pain and heard the resounding smack from Har’s hand. I straightened and whirled, my hair flying, and the glimmer in his eyes told me he liked it, but the spin of his fingers said something else.

His bathroom had a decent amount of space. I planted my hands on the edge of the counter and kicked my legs out one by one behind me. Then I leaned away from the counter while my hands undid the lower clasp of my top.

I caught his eyes, and he lowered his chin. His finger crooked at me. I saw his other hand stroking himself. A curl of heat slid through my lower belly. It might have been spitting in the eye of the devil, but I shook my head and let my top fall to the floor.

His lips quirked to the side and he nodded right before he prowled my way. His hands stroked my breasts. “That’s enough riding the music for now, baby. Time to shower.”

I side-stepped him. “Oh, no, honey. You haven’t seen my best moves.”

My hips swiveled in a figure eight as I drove my thumbs into my bottoms shoving them to the floor. The song ended. Har stalked to me. “I don’t need to see your best moves, Miss Priss. Much rather feel them in the shower. You’ve yet to suck me off, and that needs to be rectified.”

I stroked his pecs down to his abs while gazing into his eyes. “That’s why you needed to start the water, Harm.”

He smirked. “Watching your little show made it well fuckin’ worth it.”

His lips met mine and he kissed me hard, though I heard the water start, so he was multitasking.

Dragging my lips from his to kiss along the edges of his goatee, I said, “I should be offended you’re doing more than one thing while kissing me, sir.”

“Keep that up, I’m gonna get used to you calling me ‘sir,’ Miss Priss.”

“Why’s that?” I asked against his lips.

He moved us into the shower stall. “Because I’m thinking you’ve got a kinky side.”

I kissed him. He let my tongue delve into his mouth for what felt like the briefest moment before he broke it. His lips ran along my jaw to my ear. “You putting that mouth on me, or was that just lip service?”

I smirked. “It’ll be lip service all right.”

IT SEEMED BETWEEN HIS earlier workout, the beach, and my stellar mouth skills – his words, not mine – Har needed a nap. I had laid down with him, but couldn’t get to sleep. My mind kept circling back to the fact I had a whole week worth of meals to cook, so I traipsed out to the kitchen with my phone and got to work.

I found the Danzig song, “She Rides,” on Spotify and played it, but then it reverted to my recently played songs and Nicki Minaj’s “Super Bass” filled the room as I sliced and diced carrots and onions for a pot roast recipe. It wasn’t a song for everyone, but I loved it, and I danced while chopping vegetables. Since Har’s room wasn’t close to the kitchen, I found myself singing along in no time.

My Instant Pot sat on the counter and I placed the hunk of beef inside while singing about how “He just had to give me that look” and it wasn’t until I finished the lyric that Har sidled up to me. The grin on his face was proof he heard everything I had been singing.

Rather than let him see me sweat, I kept singing, since the part about him being “a helluva guy” was pure truth. I dumped my veggies on top of the roast. As I moved to the pantry for the Worcestershire sauce, my hips had more wiggle than usual, but when I turned around, Har was right there.

His legs widened, he grabbed my free hand, putting it on my heart, but leaned closer. “Do I have your heartbeat running away?”

My breath caught, my lips pressed together hard, and I froze.

He ran his nose alongside mine before he murmured, “Don’t worry, sweetheart, you got my heart running the same way.”

With that, he dropped my hand and moved into the living room.

My lungs refilled with oxygen and my first coherent thought was I love him.

That thought forced the air out of my lungs all over again.

I couldn’t fall in love with him. I couldn’t fall in love with anyone. Not any more. Not after Wycliffe and his bullshit.

I blinked and Har stood in front of me. “What the hell, woman? You haven’t moved since I walked away. What’s wrong?”

My lips shaped a closed-lip smile. “Nothing’s wrong. Just making sure I don’t need to grab more stuff.”

He gave me a hard look. “Your poker face sucks today, Combes. You’re freaked right the fuck out. What is it?”

After a long blink, I sighed. “Really, Har. It’s nothing.”

He caught my chin between his thumb and index finger. “Call me Michael. And it is something. Hell, you look like I stomped on your heart.”

My eyes slid to the side and I cursed my stupid reflexes.

He quietly scoffed. Then he bent forward so his face was in mine. “How can I have stomped on your heart after what I said?”

His gorgeous green eyes demanded an answer.

“Because I could love you.”

At my words, his eyes widened, and not in a good way, so I continued. “But I can’t afford to fall in love with anyone. Not ever again.”

Suddenly he squished my face to his chest,