“It’s a cat?” He was looking at Gollum as if he had never seen a cat before. “That doesn’t look like a cat. Cats are cute, fluffy fur balls. What you’re holding needs an exorcist.”
Killyama laughed. “He’s not that bad.”
Train saw the whatever-it-was swat Killyama, leaving a thin scratch on her forearm.
She hugged the cat to her, soothing his ruffled fur. “He was Fat Louise’s sister’s cat first. When she wanted to kill him, Fat Louise took him. Then, when she married Cade, Crazy Bitch took him. When Crazy Bitch threatened to kill him, I took him and renamed him Gollum. It used to be Manson.”
“Manson suits him better.” Train jerked his wrist back when the cat tried to scratch him again.
“I’m not giving my cat away.”
Train had never seen hurt in Killyama’s eyes in the years he had known her. She was showing it now.
“Killy, my sisters had a cat. It was nicer and would rub against my leg. Gollum and I will eventually get along, too. What do you usually do with Mans—Gollum when men come over?”
Killyama buried her face in the cat’s fur.
Even if he hadn’t heard from Shade and Viper about how courageous she was in the past, it showed now. Train couldn’t think of any other woman who would put her face near that hissing, spitting spawn of some fucked up creature.
“I’ve been meaning to ask …” Killyama started. “Does a little lie count?”
“Yes.”
“Even a little, little one?” She pinched two fingers together with her free hand.
He stared back at her sternly until she unconsciously lowered her gaze.
“I’ve never invited a man into my apartment.”
“Ever?”
“Do we have to be precise?”
“Yes.”
Train couldn’t keep his stern expression. When Killyama was embarrassed, she was cute. She would never be kitten cute—she had too much personality for that. She reminded him of a sleek leopard, instead.
“Then, I’ve never let anyone spend the night.”
“Did that hurt?” Train started to pull her up for a kiss, then hastily jerked back when Gollum bared his teeth at him.
“Yes, it did,” she snapped, taking the cat into the kitchen.
“Wait. Where are you …?”
Killyama walked through kitchen and out the back door, naked as the day she was born.
Train started cussing, bending over to pick up his jeans. “So help me … If she doesn’t quit flashing …” He stopped the litany of what he was going to do when she came back inside. “Where in the hell did you go?”
“I put Gollum on my screened-in back porch.”
“Anyone in the back parking lot could have seen you naked!”
Her shrug had him wanting to paddle that ass she had just flashed.
“Do me a favor; when you get him in the morning, put on a robe.”
“You’re being squeamish about me being naked when I’m in my house?” she asked with an arched brow.
Train’s voice rose. “You were skinny-dipping at Mrs. Langley’s house, too.”
“So? I bet you don’t bitch to those hos walking around your club naked.”
Train was getting so angry that he had to bite his tongue from snapping at her. He still wanted to fuck her so badly, but he was afraid she would hold a grudge if he paddled her ass red and not let him have it. Therefore, he started counting to ten, then twenty.
Her eyes widened when he went to the front door and locked it. Then he went to the back door and did the same.
“Dude, what are you …?” She watched in confusion as he unclasped the wallet’s chain from his jeans.
“Where’s your bedroom?”
Killyama pointed at the door to the side of the living room.
“Lead the way,” Train ordered, holding the chain loosely in his hand as she walked toward her bedroom.
“Dude, I’m giving you fair warning; I’m not into any freaky deaky shit that involves pain. I’d hate to have to beat the living hell out of you, instead of you thinking you’re getting me hot.”
Train closed the bedroom door behind them. He didn’t think the cat could get in, but he wasn’t taking a chance with his dick as an easy target.
“You need to expand your horizons,” Train taunted.
She wasn’t taking the bait. “If those horizons are filled with pain, I’m good.”
“You haven’t ever wanted to try it?”
“What do you not understand? I do not enjoy pain. I don’t need to be spanked with a whip to figure that shit out.”
“Women aren’t always the submissive ones.” He pulled her comforter to the bottom of her bed. “Lie down.”
Interest sparked in her eyes. He could tell the thought of him being submissive to her was appealing.
“Have you ever played submissive to a woman?”
He stared at her matter-of-factly. If she wanted his answer, she was going to have to follow his commands.
She pursed her lips but laid down.
Train sat down next to her hip. He considered telling her to take the bandana off, yet decided not to press his luck.