Richie was dead.
All that was left of him was a scorched, beaten corpse. I heaved until there was nothing left.
“Mia,” I heard Colt call as I shuddered and wiped my mouth. A hand went to my back, and I jerked away.
“Don’t,” I said.
“Look at me,” Colt commanded.
His face was stoic and unyielding. Something inside of me broke; I threw myself at him and he caught me, hauling me to him, his strong arms wrapping around me.
“I got you,” he whispered against my hair. Shaking, I refused to cry. I wouldn’t break down, despite the sight of my former boss’s body.
“We were looking for him, babe,” Colt murmured.
“You were? Why?” I asked into his chest.
“To get some answers. We wanted to know what he had gotten himself into and why Dev sent his boys to grab you in the middle of the night.”
“Colt,” Zip called.
I turned my head to see the Blue Angels had roused themselves from sleep and were now standing on the porch of the clubhouse. There was no evidence in any of their postures that there had been a raging party the night before. They all looked fierce and ready for battle. I thought of the women who had spent the night. They would see Richie if they came outside.
Colt gestured with his chin. Reap and Boxer came down off the porch and went to Richie’s body. “Go back inside, darlin’,” Colt said, still holding onto me. “I’ll be there in a bit.” To Reap and Boxer he said, “This could be a trap. Get this body out of here now before the cops show up.”
He let me down and I bolted for the clubhouse, wanting to forget what I’d just seen.
Women from the party had finally begun to stir. They were too hungover to peer at me with much interest as they began slithering into their microscopic clothes. There was no chatter or greetings. They grabbed their belongings and stumbled toward the exit. When the clubhouse was finally quiet, I looked around at the mess, hating the disorder. I sprung into action immediately and began to clean up.
When the living room was spotless, I tackled the kitchen. After an hour, Colt and his brothers walked into the clubhouse. They looked around the living room and into the open kitchen, their faces shifting from subdued to confused.
“It’s clean in here,” Reap said. “It wasn’t clean when we left.”
“I needed something to do,” I said with a shrug.
“And now you’re cooking?” Boxer asked, his face slack in amazement.
“Bacon and fried eggs. Is that okay with everyone? It’s all I can really manage with my wrist.”
There was a round of nods and murmurs.
Boxer looked at Colt. “If you don’t officially make her your Old Lady, I call dibs.”
Colt glared at him.
Boxer held up his hands. “Never mind. I don’t want to get my ass pistol whipped.”
The oven timer dinged and I removed the bacon. Before long, everyone had a plate and they were devouring their food.
“Have you eaten yet?” Colt asked me, his hand reaching out to push a strand of hair behind my ear.
“Just coffee. I’m not hungry.”
His hand slid down my body to rest on my hip. “You’re too thin as it is.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Too thin? I thought men liked thin.”
Colt leaned in and said, “Men like tits and ass.”
“You wouldn’t be trying to distract me from the Richie thing, would you?”
“Is it working?”
I picked up my cup of coffee and didn’t answer. I didn’t want to know what they’d done with him or how they were handling it.
His brown gaze was steady. “Let’s go for a drive.”
Thanks were called out as Colt and I left. I stepped out into the sunshine. I looked around, expecting to find danger at my back, but there was nothing except the clubhouse on a stretch of wide-open land.
Colt opened the passenger door of his truck for me and I scrambled inside. He shut the door and then went around to the driver’s side. He started the engine and then we were driving through the open gate, past the guarding prospects who were now awake and on duty.
“Give it to me straight, Colt,” I said, looking out the window.
“Sure you can handle it?”
“No.”
He was quiet and then, “You saw the burns on Richie’s chest, yeah? It was the Iron Horsemen logo.”
A surge of bile swam in my belly. “He was tortured—before they killed him?”
“Yes,” he said with a sigh. “And they dumped him on Blue Angel territory. It’s a message for us…and for you.”
“So they know, then? Dev knows I came to you?
“He knows,” he said. “Your truck has been parked at the Blue Angels garage for the past week.”
“You lied to me this whole time? You told me it was still at my house…”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because I knew you’d want to leave town the moment you got your truck back.”
“Damn right.”
Colt’s face was grim. “Why is Dev after you even though you know nothing about what Richie was up to? Any way you cut it, Dev thinks you’re involved.”
I cleared my throat. “It might be more than that…”
When I paused, Colt said, “Go on.”
“He made no secret about wanting me in his bed.”
His jaw clenched. “Not shocked by that at all, but I don’t think Dev would do this for that reason. There’s more to it. I’m telling you, he thinks Richie clued you in.”
“I overheard them talking,” I said slowly, remembering the night I’d first met Dev. “Dev asked Richie if I knew anything about their arrangement, and Richie said no. They were talking business, something about a shipment. Richie disappeared for a few nights and then resurfaced and asked me to take him to the bus depot.”
“Ah, fuck. You definitely can’t leave town now. Not until all this shit is sorted. He’ll just come after you.”
“You had my truck this whole time,” I murmured. “I could’ve gotten out. I could’ve started a new life.”
“Tell yourself that if you want,” he rumbled. “But you don’t know Dev like I know Dev.”
“You know Dev?”
“Yeah.” He paused, like he wanted to say more.
“Go on. You can tell me.”
He shot me a look of dark amusement. “You’re already mad at me. Like I want to give you more ammo?”
“I’m not mad,” I said slowly.
“Liar.”
“Fine. I’m mad. You could’ve helped me get out of town as soon as you got my truck. Why didn’t you?”
“Dev would’ve found you. Just like he found Richie, but this is deeper than you running from Dev. The Iron Horsemen came for you in the middle of the night. When you told me that, I realized something’s been going on in my own backyard. I’m gonna find out what it is.”
I looked out the window to get away from his intense stare. “You still didn’t tell me about you knowing Dev.”
“We’ve had sit downs in the past. Hashing out territory disputes, that sort of thing. But we avoid each other. Our clubs don’t get involved in each other’s shit. Until you.”
“Until me? Why?”
He was silent for a long moment, long enough for us to drive into a restaurant parking lot.
Colt looked at me, his hands resting on the steering wheel. “Because you made it personal.”
“Am I supposed to be flattered?”
“Take it however you want. The Blue Angels and the Iron Horsemen weren’t enemies. Not until now. But if Richie’s ass isn’t enough and they come after you…then they’ll start a war. I told you I’d keep you safe, and I meant it.”
“Even if that means never letting me go?”
His gaze softened. “Yeah, darlin’. Even if that means never letting you go.”
When I turned away from him, his hand gently reached out to grasp my chin and forced my gaze to his.
“If you really wanted to leave Waco, you would’ve demanded it. You would’ve kicked and screamed, you would’ve begged. You would’ve offered to trade in your piece of shit truck for a fucking Honda—something you can drive with a busted wrist. But you didn’t, did you? You put up the bare minimum fight. You know why?”
Mutely, I shook my head.
He leaned forward and brushed his lips against mine. “Because you don’t really want to run. And I make you feel something. Just like you make me feel something. So blame me if you want, but I know the truth. I know you want to stay. I know you want a home.”
His eyes bored into mine, daring me to dispute his statement. But the truth was, Colt saw past my words, past my weak arguments, and deep down he knew what I really needed.
He was giving me a way out. He’d shoulder the burden and say he’d made the choice for me.
But I was done hiding from life.
I was done living inside a box that constrained me and held nothing but misery. I reached out to stroke his cheek. He needed a shave. Colt always needed a shave.
“Why are we stopping here?” I asked.
He smiled as he turned his head to kiss my palm. “Best Mexican food in the city.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“Best margaritas in the city too. Trust me, you’ll need tequila for this conversation.”
It was just past noon and all I’d had was coffee.
Coffee and fear.
The adrenaline dump and stress had drained me, and it took all of my willpower to climb out of Colt’s truck. It felt safe there, and I knew the moment we sat down at the restaurant Colt wasn’t going to hold anything back.
He took my hand and led me inside. I salivated immediately at the smell of tortillas and sizzling meat. A wave of hunger hit me hard and I wondered how I could possibly want to eat after what I’d just seen.
We followed the hostess to a booth and Colt took the seat across from me. “I’ll have a Dos Equis,” he said with a smile, refusing the menu from the waitress. “She’ll have a margarita on the rocks with salt and the cheese enchiladas.”
I glared at him, but didn’t protest.
The cute, curvy waitress eyed Colt one last time before disappearing. Maybe at another time I would’ve felt a spark of jealousy, but I’d had his fingers inside of me not even two hours ago. Not to mention Colt didn’t even spare her a glance.
It was the little things, I realized, that proved someone wasn’t full of shit. Colt told me I didn’t need to worry about him and other women, and I believed him. Not just because he’d told me to trust him, but because of that small action. It was like he didn’t even see her.
A few minutes later, the waitress returned with our drinks and a bowl of chips and salsa. I took a sip of the margarita. It was the perfect blend of tart and sweet and I couldn’t taste the tequila.
“Wow, yeah, this is dangerous,” I said to him.
“Yup.”
I set it aside and took a chip but didn’t eat it.
A glimpse of Richie’s burned corpse flashed before my eyes. “I don’t understand something,” I began.
He took a sip from his beer and waited for me to continue.
“Why did you come to Dive Bar with Zip that night? I’ve never seen bikers at Dive Bar. Did you have a hunch that Richie was into shady shit? Were you there to see if Dev showed up?”
“No. Like I said before: it was coincidence. You think I’d be beating the fuck out of some guy in the alley if I was there for Dev?”
“What do you think Richie got involved in?” I asked.
“Meth.”
“Why do you think it’s meth?”
“Look, biker clubs don’t get donations from church ladies and PTA moms. But they have to make money. That’s how their members take care of their families and the clubs keep operating. It’s complicated, but meth can be made in a homemade lab. You don’t need land in Columbia to grow crops or the cartels in Mexico to traffic shit from other countries through South America for you, and meth is highly addictive, so it’s an obvious thing for clubs to get involved in. You cook enough of that shit up in a lab with the muscle to protect it, and once it hits the street it’s an almost immediate return of pallets of cold, hard cash.”
I quickly downed the rest of my margarita, feeling my head grow buzzy. But it also gave me courage to ask him point blank, “What do the Blue Angels do for money?”
He stared at me long and hard. “I can’t tell you that. It’s for your own protection.”
“From the law, you mean?” I asked.
He nodded. “We don’t involve our women in our business. If cops get wind of something and question our women, they don’t know shit. None of them, and I mean that. Not one. It’s as much for their protection as it is ours. But make no mistake, the Blue Angels don’t live within the confines of the law.”
My breath hitched. I knew they were criminals—I knew I was falling for a criminal, but for Colt to admit it outright had me spinning.
The waitress sailed by with my steaming plate of enchiladas. Despite what we were discussing, my stomach rumbled in anticipation. She set the plate down in front of me.
“Another marg?” she asked me.
I shook my head.
“Another beer, sugar?” she asked Colt.
His eyes remained on me when he replied, “I’m fine, thanks.”
She wasn’t able to hold in her remorseful sigh. “Enjoy.” She left again, leaving us alone.
I picked up my fork and cut into the blue corn enchiladas. They were too hot to eat, so I waited.
“What’s going on in your head,” Colt asked.
“I’m trying to process what you just told me.”
He looked down at his hands. They were big, scarred, tatted. They’d gently cleaned my feet and brought my body to the heights of pleasure. But they were the hands of a delinquent.
“I’m president of the club, right?”
I nodded.
“I’ve got responsibilities. I shoulder the burdens. The choices I make—some of them are gonna weigh me down. There will be times I come to you. Times in the middle of the night when I gotta sink inside you, to get some of that light in a world of dark. I’m gonna need to turn to you in a way that a hard as fuck man turns to a woman. You won’t always understand and you won’t get answers. But I gotta know if it’s something you think you can handle. For the long haul. Because I’m in this. And I want to be in this with you. Not just because Dev is on your ass and your boss showed up dead. I’ve wanted you since that first night at Dive Bar and if shit had been different, I would’ve come back and let you know.”
“Why didn’t you?” I asked, feeling the tequila buzz through my blood, making me heated.
“Was on a run out of town,” he explained. “I got back a few hours before you showed up on my garage steps. Didn’t like what I saw. Thought someone had put their hands on you.”
A slight smile appeared on my lips. “I wouldn’t stand for that, Colt.”
“Yeah.” He grinned. “I know that now. You’re feisty.”
“Does it ever get any easier?” I asked him.
“Does what ever get easier?”
“Knowing the people you love are in constant danger because of who you are and the life you’ve chosen to live?”
“I grew up this way. Grew up knowing what the Blue Angels were all about. It’s different for you.”
The blue corn enchiladas were finally cool enough to eat and my fork fell on them with purpose.
“Women and children are off limits,” he said when I’d put away half the plate and finally had to stop for breath.
“What do you mean?”
“There’s an honor code of sorts. Clubs don’t go after Old Ladies or kids. The innocents stay innocent. That’s how we avoid total war between clubs. Shit can get settled between men, but no one fucks with family.”
“So theoretically, if I became your Old Lady, I’d be off limits?”
“Yup. Becoming an Old Lady is serious shit, Mia. To the brothers, it’s more binding than marriage. Marriage is a piece of paper. Marriage is an institution created by society that can be dissolved. Becoming an Old Lady is a way of life, so you gotta make sure you’re ready for it before you commit.”
I couldn’t eat another bite. I’d left a quarter of the enchiladas on the plate, which I pushed away. The moment I signaled I was done, Colt took my fork and ate the rest of my food.
The waitress came by and dropped off the check before flouncing back to the bar where she not so secretly watched Colt. He reached for his wallet and took out a few crisp bills.
It made me wonder if the money had come from his garage or from his criminal enterprises.
Shelly had warned me to stay away from motorcycle clubs. Colt might’ve been a criminal, but what did that say about me—the woman who was deciding whether or not to be with him?
I’d directly benefit from Colt’s business. I’d be taken care of financially, I wouldn’t have to worry about little luxuries, and I knew he wanted to pay for my last semester of college.
Colt could protect me, take care of me.
“Shoulda ordered you another margarita,” he muttered. “I can hear you thinking.”
“You can’t hear a person think,” I said with a dry laugh.
“All your thoughts are flashing across your face like a movie reel. I know what you’re thinking.”
“What am I thinking right this moment?” I taunted.
“You’re thinking about how much you want me inside you.”
My eyes widened.
He grinned wickedly. “Have you ever been on a motorcycle?” he asked, changing the subject.
“No.”
“When your wrist is healed, I’m gonna get you on the back of my bike. There’s nothing like it, feels like you’re flying. Feels like freedom. I’ll take you to one of my favorite places. A tiny little town off the Oregon coast. We’ll rent side-by-sides and drive down to the beach and then watch the sunset.”
He took my hand that rested on the table and traced my ring finger. “I’ll take you back to a bed and breakfast I know. It’s a place that if you leave the windows open, you can smell the mist from the ocean. I’ll slide into you, Mia, and stay there until dawn.”
I swallowed at the shot of desire between my thighs.
“You’re not fighting fair,” I murmured.
“Who said anything about fair? You want me, yeah?”
“Yeah. I want you,” I admitted. “What about marriage?”
“What about marriage?”
“You called it an institution. A piece of paper.”
“It is,” he insisted. “But I’d still marry you. If you become my Old Lady you get the protection of my club. Then you become my wife and you’ve got the protection of my last name and the fact that you can’t legally be forced to testify against your husband in court if it ever comes to that.”
Practical as well as decisive. That was Colt. When he knew what he wanted, he went after it. But he thought things through. Wasn’t going to get caught up in emotion and let it rule him.
I was suddenly exhausted. It was like I’d been constantly swimming upstream, trying to get away from Colt and all that he made me feel. Trying to get away from Dev and the blanket of terror he’d thrown over my life.
I hadn’t even slept with Colt yet. Only this morning had things escalated to a physical level—and the man had been right. Not arrogant, just right. When I was in his bed, I wanted to stay there and I hadn’t even had him the way I wanted him.
“Let’s get out of here,” he rasped.
We got back to Colt’s house and it felt like I’d come home. Pairs of my shoes were by the door, haphazardly strewn like I’d kicked them off in haste.
My brain went into overdrive. There was a problem with overthinking just like there was a problem with following emotions. Unfortunately that meant I lived in a weird state of limbo.
Colt talked about marriage like it was nothing. He wasn’t gun shy. We hadn’t even slept together yet and he was tossing the word around like it was just a formality, which I guess for men in his world, it was.
He’d never said he loved me. But he was ready to make me his Old Lady.
“I have to make some calls,” Colt said, setting down his keys on the table in the front hallway. I placed my keys and phone next to his.
“Will you Saran-wrap my cast? I want to shower.”
We went into the kitchen and Colt pulled out the plastic wrap and a rubber band. He leaned down to peck me on the lips. “Shower in my bathroom.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s the good bathroom. Trust me.”
After he wrapped my cast, I left him to his phone calls and headed upstairs. I gathered my toiletries and a clean towel and took them into Colt’s bedroom. The furniture was solid oak, the walls a soft dove gray. The bed was huge, big enough for Colt—and me. I shivered in anticipation. I knew what would happen when we finally got together. It would be explosive and dynamic. It would make me feel everything that I’d been missing from my life.
It would bind me to him in a way I’d never been bound to another person. It would make me emotionally vulnerable, something I hadn’t allowed myself since Grammie’s death.
The bathroom had a long white counter with a sink, and there was a separate glass shower from a Jacuzzi tub. I envisioned us in that tub, surrounded by candles and bubbles.
I turned on the water in the shower, waiting for it to heat. It steamed up quickly and the water pressure was strong. I let it rain down on me, closing my eyes and turning my face into it. Halfway through washing my hair, I heard a quick knock on the door, followed by the sound of it opening.
“How’s it going in there?” he asked.
“Going,” I replied.
“Was I right? About my bathroom being better than the guest one?”
“Maybe. I thought you had calls to make,” I replied.
“I finished them.”
He waited.
I knew what he was waiting for.
“You’re killing me here.”
I inhaled a shaky breath. “You’re welcome to join me.”
I heard the thump of his boots and didn’t bother holding back a smile. A moment later, there was a cold draft of air as Colt stepped inside behind me. I turned around so I could look at him. Ink covered his tan arms, but I hardly noticed the work as my eyes drifted lower, taking in his size and breadth. Though we’d been in bed just this morning and things had happened between us, seeing him in all his nude glory was different.
He could see me, too.
All the teasing and flirting was absent. The desire that been on a simmer was now cranked up to a rolling boil.
But before I could say anything, Colt said, “Turn around.”
I did as he commanded. His hand skated up my side and the curve of my waist until he got to my neck. He brushed my wet hair off my back and trailed a finger across my shoulder blades and down my spine.
I shivered.
A few moments later, I felt him spread bubbles along my skin, working slowly and gently as he cleaned me. I wanted to moan, but I bit my lip to stifle it.
“Selfish,” he muttered.
“Who? Me?”
“Me. Shoulda let you go. Shoulda gotten you out.”
“Richie tried to disappear,” I reminded him. “Look what happened to him.”
“Might’ve been different if he’d had the club to help him out.”
“None of that matters now.”
His hands moved from my back down, down, down. He rubbed circles on my thighs, his touch soothing.
“You don’t owe me anything, darlin’. You know that, right?”
I looked at him over my shoulder. His gaze was dark, but I caught the tiniest measure of vulnerability. It made my lip wobble with emotion as I thought of all that Colt had gone through alone.
“I needed you,” I said softly. “I just didn’t know I needed you.”
He sighed, taking a step closer to me and wrapping me in his arms. “Babe,” was all he said.
One day, Colt would need me too. He’d come to me, needing my touch, needing the embrace of a woman to wash away the heaviness that came with being president of a motorcycle club.
“She told me,” I admitted. “Joni.”
“What did she tell you?” he asked, brushing his lips across my shoulder.
“She told me you were worth it. That if I wanted to be with you, you’d never make me regret it.”
“When you need a rock, I can be that for you. You won’t believe me until something happens and you’re forced to lean on me. Richie’s death doesn’t count. He wasn’t someone you loved.”
“I don’t think I’d survive losing someone else I loved,” I murmured. “I’ve lost enough.”
“Yeah, darlin’. We both have.” He paused. “But life happens. And you get through it with family.”
I turned in his arms and pressed my lips to his left pectoral with the dates of his parents’ deaths. He’d never told me that’s what they were for, to honor and remember them, but he didn’t have to say it.
We understood each other without words and that was something that couldn’t be replicated or replaced.
I ran my hands up his wet, naked body, enjoying the droplets of water on his honey colored skin.
“You’re so beautiful,” I whispered, reaching for the soap to lather him with bubbles.
“I’ve got scars. You’re the one who’s beautiful.”
My fingers traced one long, thin mark that marred his shoulder. “We’ve all got scars, Colt. It’s just…some of them aren’t visible.”
“You’re killing me. You know that, right?” His hands went to my hair and gently tugged my head back so I was forced to look at him. His lips took mine in a hot and hungry kiss that left me breathless. “I need you. I need to be inside of you. I can’t wait any longer.”
I gently pushed him back under the spray so that he could rinse off while I stepped out of the shower and quickly dried off.
Colt shut off the water and snatched a towel from the hanging rod.
My skin prickled with goosebumps of anticipation.
It was all happening so fast with Colt, and yet it seemed inevitable.
I strode into the bedroom with Colt not far behind me. His damp skin glistened as his hungry gaze raked over me.
“Gonna lose the towel?”
Arching an eyebrow, a grin spread across my face. “You first.”
He dropped his towel and my gaze dropped with it. Colt was perfectly made, like a marble statue carved by Michelangelo himself.
And he was mine.
My hands went to my towel and I unfastened it, letting it fall to the floor.
Colt’s stare was hot as he sauntered toward me. He placed his hands on my arms, taking us down onto the bed. My back fell against the comforter with Colt looming over me. His mouth descended to take my lips in a ravenous kiss and his hands wove their way through my wet hair.
He kissed my mouth and then my neck before moving down to my breasts. His hands caressed and teased my nipples, making them ache, making me want him to lavish me with his mouth.
But he didn’t stop to worship them; he dotted kisses down my flat stomach and belly button. And then he looked up with an arrogant smile, and continued to kiss his way downward.
He spread my legs and just stared for a moment. It made me uncomfortable and I tried to close my thighs, but Colt’s hands prevented me.
“Stop,” he said softly. His eyes lifted to meet mine. “Why are you embarrassed?”
“You’re hanging out down there. It’s…weird.”
He chuckled. “This is the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen. I gotta take a minute to enjoy it.”
I smiled at him. “You’re not at all how I thought you’d be.”
He arched a brow. “How’d you think I’d be?”
“I don’t know. Rougher. Unable to wait.”
His fingers inched across my skin to tease my folds. “Told you when I had you in my bed, I’d take my time. And that’s what I’m doing.”
Colt’s tongue slid across my aching flesh making me shudder and spread my legs wider.
He chuckled against the juncture of my thighs and continued his ministrations. He held nothing back, licking and sucking with abandon. Like a starving animal that had been lying in wait to feast.
Colt was relentless, unyielding. He gripped my hips to keep me stationary while his tongue devoured my essence.
“I knew you’d be sweet,” he murmured. “I know you’re close. I wanna hear you moan.”
He gently sucked me into his mouth and when my back bowed toward the ceiling, I came with a cry.
As I shuddered and shivered, Colt slid up my body, taking my lips with his. I tasted myself as he kissed me, and it only made me want him more.
He reached over to the bedside table and fiddled with the drawer. In a few quick motions, Colt was sheathed and his hand was on my knee, bending it so that it rested against the bed.
Colt poised at my entrance, looming over me. Eyes on mine, he slid into my body.
Even though I was slick with want, it still took a moment for me to adjust to him. And then I felt him everywhere. My nerves were on fire.
Colt’s gaze was bright and resolute. “Wrap your legs around me,” he commanded.
He skated his hand underneath me, bringing me closer to him.
“Oh God,” I moaned as another spark danced between my legs.
Colt’s thrusts were gentle at first, but then it was nothing but heat and chaos. I felt him in places I didn’t know I had. The pressure and intensity was so overwhelming that my eyes rolled back into my head.
He buried his face in the crook of my neck, increasing his pace. Thoughtful desire gave way to mindless thrusting and our bodies intertwined like we were animals in heat. He growled low in my ear and when I looked down to see where our bodies connected, I saw him sliding in and out of me.
“I’m close,” he muttered.
I bucked against him and with his pelvis perfectly angled I detonated again, clenching around him hard.
With one final thrust, Colt shouted. He shuddered, his release pumping out of him.
He collapsed on top of me, our breathing ragged, our hearts ready to gallop out of our chests.
I felt like I’d been broken apart, and was only now beginning to piece myself back together.
Colt lifted his head to stare down at me. His eyes were glazed and his skin was flushed. He pressed his lips to mine and didn’t say anything as he gently pulled out.
I noticed the loss of him immediately, wincing at the tenderness between my legs.
I’d been ridden hard and fast, but damn if I didn’t feel like a woman.
He went into the bathroom. I heard the sound of him washing his hands and then he came back to bed. Colt lay down, his gaze languid and drowsy, his hand gently tracing the contour of my hip.
“Did I hurt you?” he asked.
I shook my head, my tangled hair brushing across my shoulders. I leaned over and skimmed my lips over his and then cuddled against his chest.
We were content to stay there for a moment, but then I finally rolled over to get out of bed.
“Where do you think you’re going?” he asked with a grin.
“To clean up. And then I plan on making some food.”
“You’re ready to eat again? After those enchiladas?”
“I didn’t eat them all,” I reminded him.
“Yeah, good point. What are you making?”
“I wanted to make pancakes, but I don’t know if I can whisk with my left hand.”
“I’ll whisk them for you.”
“Yeah?”
He nodded.
I went to one of his dresser drawers, rooting around for a T-shirt. I found one and slid it on before heading to the bathroom.
“I like you in my shirt, darlin’,” he said gently.
I smiled as I closed the door.
“You’ve been holding out on me,” Colt said as he pushed away his empty plate.
I grinned. “I’m a decent cook, but I have two specialties: guacamole and pancakes.”
I finished off the last bite of my own short stack and then got up from the kitchen table to take the plates to the sink.
“Why are those your specialties?” Colt asked.
“When Grammie got sick, she lost her appetite. Pancakes and guacamole were the only things she could stomach. So I got really good at making them.”
While I loaded the dishwasher, Colt put away the maple syrup and then wiped down the kitchen table. I’d noticed he was someone who preferred his space tidy. He didn’t have clutter or a stack of mail by the door or magazines on the coffee table.
If I hadn’t seen the photos on the wall, I would’ve thought he was renting the house.
“You any good at laundry? Or cleaning the house?” Colt asked, reaching into the refrigerator and pulling out two beers. He popped the tops with a bottle opener from the silverware drawer and handed me one.
“What are you really asking me, Colt?” I demanded.
“Nothin’. Just trying to figure out if I should give my housekeeper a raise.” He winked. “Since there are two of us living here now.”
“You have a housekeeper?”
“Damn right I do.”
“My, my, aren’t we spoiled?”
“I hate all that shit. Better off paying someone to handle it for me—and now you. I like cooking, but that’s because I grill mostly. But it’s nice coming home to a stocked refrigerator and clean sheets.”
“Yeah, I could see how you’d get used to that,” I agreed with a grin. “But I’d like to address something you just said.”
“Can you do it on the porch?”
I waved at him to lead the way. He opened the back door to the patio and we sat out in the spring afternoon. It wasn’t even close to sunset yet, but I doubted I’d be awake for it. I was exhausted; having run the gauntlet of emotions, not to mention the intimacy we’d shared earlier had my eyes drooping.
“What is it you wanna talk about?” He sat down on one of the patio furniture chairs and patted his leg.
I perched on his thigh, feeling like we were a couple that had known each other a lot longer than ten days.
Ten days? How had it only been ten days?
“You said now that we both live here.”
“Yeah? So?”
“Colt, I don’t live with you.”
“You do right now, don’t you?”
“Well, yeah, because of what’s going on. But what happens when all that’s over.”
“You still planning on getting out of dodge? Leaving town?” He took a sip from his beer, his brown eyes on me.
My gaze fell to the column of his throat and then lower to his bare chest. He was wearing a pair of jeans and no shirt, so his ink was on full display. I was riveted by his artwork. The massive Blue Angels logo on the underside of his left forearm, the modest Scottish flag underneath the dates of his parents’ deaths.
“No, I’m not leaving town,” I said slowly. “But I do plan on moving back into my house when the Iron Horsemen are no longer on my ass.”
His hand stole underneath the shirt I was wearing to rest on the small of my back. “You scared of tattoos?”
“Why are you changing the subject?”
“Don’t like the idea of you moving out of my place, that’s all. So, tattoos?”
“Never really thought they were for me.” I shook my head. “Does anyone call you James?”
“Never,” he said. “How’d you know my given name anyway?
I grinned. “Joni told me. What about Jamie? Anyone call you that?”
He snorted. “Fuck no.”
“What’s wrong with the nickname Jamie? I think it’s cute.”
“Cute enough to get it inked on you?” His smile was devilish and just a tad hopeful.
It was my turn to snort. “Yeah, right. Like I’d let you brand me.”
“I’d get your name on me.”
“But that’s permanent!”
“Kinda the whole point.”
I shook my head. “You’re insane.”
He laughed.
“I wonder if I’ll ever get used to your way of life.”
Colt leaned over and set his bottle of beer down before standing, lifting me in his arms and carrying me inside.
“What are you doing?” I asked as he made his way to the stairs.
“Distracting you from thinking so much,” he said with a rueful grin.
We entered his bedroom, and he placed me in the center of his bed. The next thing I knew, I had a large biker’s body covering mine, and for the next few hours he found a way to pleasurably distract me from all my thoughts.
