New York Crime Kings Box Set: Books 1-4 by Skyla Madi Page A

stomach.
    His analyzing gaze makes me feel self-conscious as well as overheated. A few seconds in and his presence is already forcing my pulse to hit overdrive and my skin to prickle all over. I expected to feel less heat between my legs now I’ve experienced a small piece of Jai, but if anything, it’s multiplied tenfold. I want to lick his chest and kiss his lips. I want to feel his rough hands all over my body and between my legs once more. Trying my best not to squeeze my thighs together, I lower myself onto the little stool across from him, thankful the crate hides the majority of my naked stomach.
    “I thought the black halter wasn’t your style?”
    “It’s not,” I say, reaching for my cup. “But it’s the only thing that matches these leggings.”
    Jai draws his cup to his lips. “They’re nice leggings.”
    I have to agree. Not only do they fit and are comfortable, they also had the price tag still attached. Whoever owned these before paid a pretty penny for them. If I lost them, I’d be pissed. I sip at the whiskey and wince as it burns its way down my throat. I cough and cover my mouth.
    “It tastes like gasoline.”
    Crinkles surface around his eyes as he smiles while swallowing a mouthful of his own whiskey. “Just as expensive, too.”
    I raise my eyebrows. “An interesting statement from someone who catches the train.”
    “I have a car, but I enjoy catching the train. I like the grittiness of it all.”
    I don’t think I’ve ever met someone who enjoys catching the train. I hate it with a passion—the smells, the people, the stops—ugh.
    “When you’re not riding the subway and smashing innocent women’s tablets, what do you drive?”
    His eyes flare and I can tell I’ve stumbled on a topic he’s passionate about. “A Ford Mustang, Shelby, GT500.”
    I stare at him. All I heard were words. Words I don’t understand the meaning of. When I ask someone what they drive, I expect a color or a one-name brand. ‘A blue one’ is a good answer or ‘a Nissan’ works too. I can understand those. When more than one name comes out of their mouth, followed by a bunch of numbers, I’m lost. Jai catches on, too.
    “A red one with black stripes up the middle.”
    I smile. “Fast?”
    A stupid question. It’s red; of course it goes fast. Jai tips his head to the side a little. It’s endearing—cute, even.
    “She does all right. What’s with the questions?”
    I shrug. “We sleep in the same room. It makes sense we should get to know each other a little more.”
    Jai leans forward, resting his elbows on the table. I drop my stare from his and watch as he trails his index finger along the rim of his tin cup. At any moment I expect blood to roll down the dull metal, but he keeps his touch light and careful.
    “You really think knowing me a little more will make you feel any better about what you let me do last night?”
    His tone confuses me. It’s half amused, half serious. I wondered who was going to address last night’s situation first. I would have done it in a roundabout way, but I guess Jai’s style is more...straight to the point.
    “This has nothing to do with last night. I don’t need to make myself feel better. I own my actions.” I frown. “Wait. Are you implying I should think less of myself because of what happened?”
    “Not at all.”
    I grip my tin cup in my hand. “Then what are you saying?”
    Jai’s full lips fight a smile. It seems almost everything I say is amusing to him. He’s not taking this conversation as seriously as I am, and it bugs me.
    “What I’m saying is, what’s done is done. Even if I tell you my whole life story, we’ll always share that moment as strangers.”
    His stare flickers over my burning cheeks and watering eyes. I don’t think I’ve been in a more embarrassing conversation. This is the first time I’ve ever had a conversation with a guy that has given me an orgasm, after the fact.
    I cover my face with my hands. “This is