“I haven’t told Trunk yet,” I confess. “What I know about Trunk, he’ll flip his shit. I’m kinda hoping it was an isolated incident I can forget about. I’ve certainly been trying.”
“Understandable. Well, on the plus side, what we’ve discovered is not news. The pj’s were purchased from an account with Amazon in your ex’s name. He didn’t exactly make an effort hiding that fact. To put your mind at ease, we’re keeping close tabs on him. He makes any moves, we’ll know about it before you do.”
“Guess I was naïve thinking he was gonna just let us go.”
I feel a tingle down my spine and my eyes drift to the other side of the bar, where Chains, the guy who accosted us outside, is staring at me despite the redhead draped all over him. He lifts his beer in my direction when he catches me looking, and I immediately turn away.
“Talk about someone else who freaks me out,” I confess.
“Chains? He’s a piece of work.”
“You wanna steer clear of him,” Wapi mumbles, as he sets my glass in front of me.
“What he says,” Luna confirms when he returns to his spot behind the bar. “The president for the Moab Reds is a contemporary of my husband’s. Ouray respects Tink, which is the only reason he opened the doors to Chains and his buddies.”
I resist the temptation to look back in the man’s direction and focus instead on Trunk, who is making his way over here, Ouray right behind him.
“Gettin’ hammered again, Little Mama?” he asks, pulling out a chair beside me.
“You’re making it sound like I do that all the time,” I snap, bristling. “It was one time, Trunk. Once.” I notice too late his eyes are sparkling with amusement.
Ouray chuckles as he lifts his wife from the chair, before sitting down, pulling her onto his lap. Her muttered objections go unheard. It’s my turn to snicker when she rolls her eyes at me.
I’m having fun, listening to the other couple sharing some stories, while I’m nursing my glass of wine, Trunk’s hand warm under my hair at the back of my neck. We dance a few times, my body pressed so tight to his it’s on fire. Doesn’t take much to imagine what this man could do to me without the layer of clothes separating us.
We’ve just returned to the table from our last foray to Eric Clapton’s “Layla” when Chains approaches the table, the redhead teetering right behind him. Trunk immediately stiffens, and I can feel the tension coming off both Ouray and Luna. Under the table I put my hand on Trunk’s leg.
Instead of stopping, he walks right past us to the pool table with only a glance in our direction, almost to make sure he has our attention. There he pushes the woman rather unceremoniously over the table, tugging up her skirt and stripping down her barely-there panties.
“Fuck me,” Trunk growls beside me and my hand curls into his muscular thigh.
I’m mesmerized by the sight of Chains kicking her legs apart, freeing himself from his dirty jeans, and with deft movements rolling on a condom before lining up his cock and plunging inside her. His eyes are on me the entire time.
“Easy, brother,” Ouray rumbles when Trunk suddenly surges to his feet.
“Unless you want a confrontation on your hands, brother,” Trunk sneers. “Get rid of that fucker and call me when he’s gone. Until then, we’re outta here.” He pulls me up by the hand and starts moving for the exit, keeping a tight hold of me.
“Uh, Trunk?” He doesn’t slow down so I try again, but a little louder, yanking my hand from his. “Trunk!”
“What!” he snarls, swinging around, his eyes blazing with heat. Just not the kind I like seeing.
“Before you haul me out there in sub-zero temperatures, I’d like my coat, and if it’s not too much trouble, my purse.” It’s out of my mouth before I consider this may not be a good time to get sassy.
“Don’t be smart with me, Jaimie. Not fucking now.”
I’ll admit, the narrowing of those onyx eyes on me is a little intimidating, but I stand my ground, folding my arms over my chest. “And I’m not about to go anywhere without my stuff.”
“Here you go,” I hear from behind me, and I turn to find Wapi holding out my things.
“Thank you.” I may have put a little too much gratitude in my words.
“For fuck’s sake,” Trunk mutters, as I shrug on my coat and throw my purse over my shoulder.
“See you later, Wapi. That was very nice of you.” I smile big at the guy, who shakes his head before turning back to the bar. Next thing I know I’m pulled out the door by Trunk. This time I let him, I know I’ve made my point.
Trunk
I have to rein my temper in before I trust myself to start the truck.
That fucking dirtbag, his eyes on my woman while he’s hammering his dick into some willing pussy. The message couldn’t have been clearer.
Disrespect.
For me, but also for Jaimie. The first is nothing new to me, but the second I won’t stand for. It’s for her sake I dragged her out of there. She’s had enough filth darkening her life; she doesn’t need more.
She’s ignoring me, looking out the side window, and staying silent all the way to her place, which is not unwelcome.
I wasn’t kidding when I told her “Not now” earlier. After spending the whole fucking day trying to get the boys to tell me what the hell is up with them, my patience had already been stretched to the limit. Not having anything to give Ouray, who’s been looking for an answer, didn’t help my mood. The introduction of that misogynistic, racist piece of shit has been the fucking cherry to my day.
“You know,” Jaimie says softly when I pull into her driveway. “A person only has as much power as we’re willing to give them.”
I open my mouth to warn her off, but close it again when I realize she’s got a point. Shutting off the engine I turn, tagging her behind the neck, and pulling her close. “How’d you get so wise?” I mumble against her lips opening willingly.
I taste the remnants of her wine, mixed with her own enticing flavor, as my tongue encounters hers. Her hands seek out the smooth skin of my scalp, scraping gently, and I swear the heat in the truck goes up by twenty degrees in seconds. “James,” I caution her, pulling away.
“Don’t stop,” she mutters, pressing her mouth back to mine.
“Not fucking you in the driveway,” I manage. I set her firmly back in her seat and take her in. The blonde hair I’ve been able to muss up in just minutes, the deep pink, pouty lips, and the sexy flush high on her cheeks. “Invite me in or send me home, Little Mama.”
Her eyelids slide halfway down over those baby blues as she sinks her teeth in her bottom lip. “Are you gonna boss me around?”
Smartass.
“Depends. You gonna invite me in and find out, or send me home?” With some satisfaction I note she squirms a little in her seat.
“In,” is all she says, opening the truck door.
Shee-it.
I’m on her the moment the front door falls shut behind us, pressing her against the wall, a knee between her legs and my tongue in her mouth. Fucking hell, she ignites like a fire, scoring her nails in my neck, her tongue meeting mine stroke for stroke. Who’d have thought the innocent looking, blonde nymph would light up like that?
I grind my cock into her heat when she wraps a leg around mine. When she mewls down my throat, I know I have to slow things down or she’ll have me coming in my fucking jeans.
“You’re stopping again,” she snaps, her lips full and slick, and her eyes full of fire when I take a step back.
“Rather not waste a load in my jeans,” I grunt, grabbing her hand and pulling her to the stairway.
“Charming,” she mumbles, as I push her ahead up the stairs.
Watching that lush ass at face level isn’t helping my control, and by the time she leads me into her bedroom, I’m already pulling her top up from behind. She lifts her arms, freeing the sweater, and turns to face me when I fling it on the floor. Her hands go straight for my shirt, shoving it up my chest.
I reach behind me, grab a handful of fabric between my shoulder blades, and pull it over my head. Her hands are already exploring.
“Jesus, Trunk, look at you.”
“I’d rather be lookin’ at you.” Putting my money where my mouth is, I reach for the zipper on her jeans and strip them down, dropping on my knees in front of her. Her belly is soft when I bury my face there, inhaling her hot scent. Dipping my tongue in her belly button, my hands dig into the globes of her ass. I feel her skin pebble as I drag my tongue down to her pubic bone over the silky scrap of fabric.
“Lie back, James.” She shuffles backward until the mattress hits her knees and lies down, spreading her legs immediately. Fuck yeah, the crotch of her panties is soaked. “Hope you’re not attached to these,” I mumble, ripping the lace band at her hip.
“Trunk!” she protests, raising herself up on her elbows, just as I lift her legs over my shoulders.
“Hush.” I spread her pretty pink folds open with my thumbs, and taste her with my tongue.
It doesn’t take much before her thighs are quivering and her hips are lifting off the mattress. I slide two fingers inside her, and suck hard on her clit, making her jerk under my touch as she comes.
She’s still recovering when I’m already scrambling to my feet. I dig in my pocket and pull out a condom, sticking it between my teeth as I kick off my boots and socks, and strip down my jeans.
The moment I tear the foil, Jaimie’s head pops up and her eyes track down my body until they get caught on me rolling on the condom.
“Holy shit,” she mutters.
“Bra off, baby.”
Without moving her eyes from my dick, she reaches behind her and lets the bra fall down her arms, releasing those large perfect breasts.
I bend over her body, and shove my hands under her, scooping her right off the mattress. Her arms automatically circle my neck, and her legs wrap around my hips. Her soft flesh engulfing me.
“Trunk…”
“Titus. When I fuck you, call me Titus.”
With my hands under her ass, I take a few steps until her back is braced against a wall. Then I slowly lower her on my dick. So fucking slick. Warm. Tight. I squeeze my eyes shut, fighting the urge to pound inside her when she whimpers.
“You good?”
“Mmhmm.”
“Words, James,” I grunt.
“Less talking, Titus. Fuck me already.”
Shee-it, she makes me hot when she’s snippy. I ease out, brace my legs, and thrust back inside, deep and hard. I do it again, and then again, until I leave my head out of the game and let my body take over.
CHAPTER 13
Jaimie
WHEN I ROLL over to check my alarm clock, I discover I’m tender in areas that had been ignored for too long. Although, to be honest, I might well have been tender this morning anyway given last night’s gymnastics and the size of my exercise partner.
A satisfied smile steals over my face. Being on the short side has been an annoyance my whole life, until Trunk showed me all the ways our height difference can be used creatively. I can scratch a few of my secret fantasies off my list.
He left last night—or rather, earlier this morning—explaining he wants to be at the clubhouse when the boys get up. Apparently their young charges have been giving the club some trouble lately, and Trunk is eager to get to the bottom of it.
I want to use today to figure out what I’m going to pack for New York. Travel clothes are easy, but it’s the command performance outfits I’m struggling with. I still have my office wardrobe—drab skirts and pants suits—but most of those I don’t fit into anymore after having River. It’s been ages since I’ve shopped for clothes; the last time was when I was pregnant. Maybe Mom wants to go.
I can hear her putzing around the kitchen downstairs and swing my legs over the side. Time to get my lazy ass up. I’m glad no one is here to witness my short walk to the bathroom. Waddle is more descriptive. I could probably use a nice hot shower to ease those aches.
Fifteen minutes later, I walk into the kitchen—a little less tentatively—and am greeted by my son’s excited squawks.
“Hey, my buddy,” I coo, lifting his jumpy little body out of the high chair. “What has you so happy this morning?”
“I could ask you the same thing,” Mom comments, lifting her coffee to her lips to hide a smile.
“Trust me, you don’t wanna know.” I grin when she rolls her eyes.
“Unless the reason for that smirk on your face is the fact you’ve had a stellar night’s sleep like your son—no—I really don’t want to know.”
I lift my fingers to my mouth and pretend to zip my lips, before blowing a raspberry in River’s neck, making him giggle as he grabs onto my hair. “Easy, kiddo.” I carefully pry his little fingers open. “You’re gonna have me as bald as Trunk if you don’t watch it.”
“Unk!”
“Exactly. Now finish up your cereal while Mommy gets some coffee, okay?” I slip him back in his seat and get myself some fuel to face the day.
“Want me to cook you some breakfast?”
“No. You don’t have to do that every morning, Mom. I’ll grab some cereal.” I grab a bowl from the cupboard. “I was thinking of going shopping today. It’s actually a nice day to get out. Are you game?”
“You’re asking me? Of course I am. What are we shopping for?”
I sit down beside my son, across from Mom. “I don’t really have anything appropriate to wear for my New York trip. I want something fun, not like the mom-clothes I’ve been schlepping around in.”
She eyes me across the table, on eyebrow slightly raised. “Is this about New York, or about Trunk? That man better take you as you are, or—”
“Ma. It’s about me. I feel the need for a change. Trunk couldn’t care less what I wear, in fact, he probably prefers it to be nothing.” I chuckle when she slaps her hands over her ears, and I wait until she pulls them away. “I want the outside to match the inside. It’s been so long since I’ve done anything fun for me.”
She reaches over and squeezes my hand. “Then that’s what we’ll do.” Turning to River she says, “And you, my boy, will get your first good husband training.”
“He just turned one,” I point out, my mouth full of cereal.
“Never too young to start,” Mom shares sagely.
I’m just clearing away the dishes while Mom is up in her apartment getting ready, when there’s a knock on the door.
“Unk!” River was playing on the living room floor, but is now watching the door eagerly. I wonder if I should worry about the obvious preoccupation my son has with that man.
Instead of Trunk, it’s Ollie at the door, looking unreasonably tan and healthy for winter.
“Haven’t seen you since you got back. You look like you’ve had a fabulous time.” I step aside and wave her in.
“It was amazing,” she gushes with a smile. “Fuck, but it’s cold to be back.”
“Unk!” River cries crawling over.
“Shit,” Ollie claps her hand over her mouth. “I didn’t see him there. Joe always tells me to watch the swearing.” I realize she thinks he’s copying her f-bomb.
“Actually, that’s his version of ‘Trunk,’ I think he was hoping it might be him.”
“Trunk? As in, the dangerously hot hunk who happens to be Tahlula’s brother, Trunk?” I shrug and grin. “Get the frick out of town. I was kinda thinking last year, when he showed up to help you move in here, you’d look cute together.” Cute is not exactly the term I would use in anything relating to Trunk, but I don’t bother telling her that. “So I guess he’s been here enough for River to have bonded?” She gives my shoulder a shove. “Now I know whose truck was in your driveway last night. Joe was ready to come over and knock on your door. I’m glad I was able to hold him back.”
Ollie is known for having a tendency to run off at the mouth, so I just wait until she takes a breath.
“Yes. Thank you. Yes, and so am I, because th
at could’ve been embarrassing. But,” I add quickly. “It’s all pretty new.”
“New? He was eyeing you even back then. That was last summer.” I’m ridiculously tickled at that bit of information, but force the self-satisfied grin down. Ollie doesn’t need any encouragement. “It was at his sister’s wedding things changed, wasn’t it? I knew it!”
“Knew what?” Mom catches Ollie’s last words as she walks in from the side door.
“Hey, Mrs. B. I’m talking about your daughter and that gorgeous man. If I didn’t have one already at home, I’d be jealous.”
“They make a gorgeous couple, don’t they?”
I roll my eyes up to the ceiling, hoping for deliverance from the two of them almost having us married off.
“Actually, the reason I popped over…” Ollie finally shares, “…is to see if you’d like to come over for dinner this coming Friday? I found a massive pot roast in the freezer I’m planning to cook.”
“Mom probably would,” I volunteer. “But I won’t be able to make it. I’m flying to New York on Friday. Just for the weekend, it’s for work,” I clarify.
“New York? That’s exciting.”
“It is, although I’m not sure I’ll see much of it. We were actually heading out to do some preparatory shopping. I want some new clothes for the trip. Any suggestions?”
“You’ll find your standard places—T.J. Maxx, JCPenney, etcetera—in the Durango Mall. If you want something a little more unique, I would try Main Avenue. There are a ton of little boutiques close together downtown. Depends on what you’re looking for.”
“Unique,” Mom answers for me.
Trunk
“You’re freaking me out.”
Paco catches me in the hallway outside of my office.
“The fuck did I do?”
“I just got used to the fact that scowl you usually wear is not nearly as threatening as it appears. You fucking smiling, though? You look like a serial killer, brother. Knock it off.”
EDGE OF REASON Page 10
