Dirty Chase: A Bad Boy Mafia Romance (Brooklyn Brotherhood Book 2) Read Online Free Page B

like any normal, honest, law-abiding citizen would. Like anyone who doesn't mind having their picture taken.
    I should leave her now, for her own good.
    Instead, my legs move of their own accord and I walk up, put my hand gently on her face, tilt those pretty eyes up at me. She's frowning, but she doesn't pull away.
    "What the hell, Chase?" Elle holds my gaze, doesn't flinch, doesn't look away. Her cheek is soft as fucking silk beneath my hand, and I can't help but imagine what other parts of her body might be even softer.
    "I can't have my photograph taken, Princess. Not good for business."
    Her eyes drift from mine, and I realize the photographer is behind me, talking his ass off. Fuck. What is it about Elle that makes me focus only on her?
    That's also not good for business. Or for staying alive.
    I should cut this off, right now.
    Then those pretty blue eyes drift back to me, and she bites her lip, swallows hard. My body responds, gut clenching, cock getting hard, brain going fucking haywire.
    I'm used to being the dangerous one.
    But I'm beginning to think she's dangerous—for me.
    "I shouldn't have dinner with you, Chase. I'm a kindergarten teacher and you're—you're—"
    I'm an idiot, because I agree with everything she's saying. But instead of telling her that, I lean in and silence her with a kiss.
    I know I'm trying to shut down my own damn doubts, even more than hers.
    Unfortunately, it works.
    Her lips are soft and sweet, and for a moment I'm too hard, too brutal—she resists, pushing back against my kiss, keeping those perfect pink lips closed against me.
    Then with a rush, she opens to me. I tease her, sliding my tongue just a breath inside her. She tastes like champagne and feels like hot silk. And then she moans. Just a little, breathless sigh as we pull apart.
    It sets me off, though. I go to attack her—and then I realize, she's attacking me . Her arms are suddenly twined around my neck, she's up on her tip-toes trying to reach me, inhale me, kiss me hard and harder.
    I fucking like this.
    This is totally my fucking style.
    "Let's get inside," I say, my voice rougher than I expected.
    I place her gently on her feet, then turn to look at the paparazzo.
    "What the fuck are you doing back here? This area is private property."
    The restaurant keeps all its paying clients going in and out the front door. This back entrance is for business associates only. And he's lucky it's me and not one of the New York families he just shot, because he'd lose more than his camera if it was a local.
    "Just trying to make a living, man."
    "Go back to the front of the building and don't let me catch you back here again," I say. "I'm gonna give you your camera back."
    He looks visibly relieved, but then shouts as I flick open the memory card slot and remove the card with all his photos saved on it. I pocket the card then hold out the camera. "But don't fucking take my picture, or her picture, ever again. You hear me?"
    "What the fuck, man?" The guys moves closer, dancing on his heels like he's gonna take a swing at me. He's half my height and half my weight, and I can tell the only boxing experience he has is from watching Rocky . "I need that card, man. It's got my whole night's work on it. It's not like you're even a celebrity. I can't sell your image. No one knows who you are."
    I take two steps closer, so we're nose to nose. I glare at him. His hands drop and his eyes get wide. I could blow real hard and he'd fall over. Again.
    "And that's exactly how I like it, asshole. Now: Did you hear me ?"
    "He heard you, Chase," Elle says quietly, behind me.
    Her soft voice actually calms me down, but I don't have time to wonder about that because apparently having a pretty lady watch him puffs this motherfucker back up. He starts hopping on his feet again.
    "Nah, man. You give me back my memory card, or I'm calling the cops. And suing your ass. And—and—fuck you!"
    I clench my jaw. How-the-fuck-stupid is he?
    "Actually," I growl.