Illicit Behavior: A Bad Boy Rockstar Romance(7)By: Nikki Wild
The leader got in a few good licks at me before I grappled him down to the floorboards. He got the upper hand briefly, but I managed to force him onto his back, straddling him and delivering a few solid wallops to either side of his head.
I was just climbing up when I heard the scraping behind me.
Before I knew what was happening, the bar stool connected with my head. Falling, my eyes cast back to the bar. A beautiful yet frightening face was rising from behind the dark wooden counter with a beastly looking 12-gauge shotgun in her hands. An explosion rang out, the gun punching a large hole in the ceiling. My loudly ringing ears couldn’t mask the unmistakable sound of the pretty girl racking another shell.
…And then everything went black.
It was awhile before Trent finally started to stir. The tiny, makeshift bed creaked with his sleepy, sluggish movements, and I firmly pressed my fingertips down over his pectoral.
“No. Stay down. Rest.”
He nodded quietly, relaxing back down.
I lifted my fingers from his chest. Even through his shirt, I could tell how built he was. He probably had a stack of washboard abs below.
Privately, I grumbled that it hadn’t occurred to me to bother checking that.
This guy was probably a muscle powerhouse beneath these clothes, and I’d missed my one chance to sneak a peak without him knowing.
“Do you want something to drink?” I asked.
“Water,” he asked.
I reached for the glass that I’d prepared and left beside him. Holding the edge to his lips, I carefully slipped him some of the cold water.
“Where are we?” He asked me, coughing.
“Where I live,” I answered truthfully.
We were in a backroom with a single window casting in moonlight from above. A bare lightbulb hung from the ceiling but I hated its sickly glow, so I relied on the natural light (or lack thereof).
Besides, I was used to moving around in the dark.
It made it easier to forget that I was trapped living in such a complete dump.
“I thought you were an asshole when you walked in,” I remarked. “You kept looking at me like I was a hot piece of meat... And then you go and save me from those fuckers.”
“Yeah, well…it’s been a weird night.”
“Tell me about it,” I agreed. “But listen. I need to check you out.”
In the dim lighting, I saw his lips curl into that cocky smile again. “You don’t need my permission for that.”
“Ugh. Not like that,” I corrected. “But you took a beating there. Like a fucking champ, I’ll admit. Still, I need to take a look at your head. You might have a concussion.”
“Explains why my head hurts so much,” Trent laughed painfully. “Go ahead, doc.”
He slowly pulled himself to a seated position, and I helped him out of his shirt. After telling him to close his eyes briefly, I flicked on the overhead light.
Oh sweet Jesus.
He was temporarily blinded, but I adjusted quickly – fast enough to see how amazing his powerful, rugged build really was.
There could barely be an ounce of fat on this guy’s body. He was all muscle – built to last. His sinews rippled just below the skin, pulling taut as he shielded his eyes. His powerful shoulders and tight pectorals were to die for.
Turns out that I had been completely right about his abs.
You could probably slice onions on them.
“Are you done checking out the goods?” Trent chuckled arrogantly. That stupidly sexy smile of his curled along his lips again.
“You’ll stop talking if you want my help,” I warned him.
I pulled down my medical kit from a shelf. Popping it open and spreading a few supplies along the bed, I sat down beside him and dabbed rubbing alcohol onto a cotton ball.
“This might sting a little,” I explained.
“Pfft. I can take it.”
The slight waft hit my nostrils as I pressed it to his cheek, bringing me back to when I was a child. It was one of the few memories that really stuck out, patching up my stepfather after one of his famous barroom brawls.