by Joanna Blake
Not that it wasn’t selfish of me. I mean if she never had a night off, I was not going to be having a lot of sex. And I wanted sex. All the sex.
But only with her.
Yeah, the candy shop had officially closed for business. Nobody was more surprised than me. But this slip of a girl had me tied up in knots, and I hadn’t even had her yet.
If things kept going the way they were, I didn’t see how I was going to get my dick wet in the next century. Something had to be done.
I’d talk to the guys, I decided. I wouldn’t say anything about being head over heels. I’d act like it was no big deal.
Problem solved. Soon. I hopped onto the bike and guided her arms around my waist.
“Hold on tight, babe.”
Chapter Four
Molly
I rolled over in my tiny bed, sighing in ecstasy. The bed was small and the apartment was dreary and drab, but right now, there was no place on Earth I would rather be.
A soft sound from the kitchen brought me fully awake.
I sat up, panic shooting through my body. I lived alone, in a not-so-great part of town. My landlord was a sweet old lady who had lived here with her family when it had been much safer. She’d turned the second floor of her house into two tiny apartments after her husband passed away. Right now, I was the only tenant.
I really liked Mrs. Keeley, but I couldn’t exactly call out for help if I needed it. Not only could she not help, but I doubted she could even hear me. I glanced around for my phone, thinking I could call 911. Maybe they’d get here before I was dismembered. Or kidnapped.
Who was I kidding? Who would kidnap me? You needed family to pay a ransom, and it was pretty clear I didn’t have any. If I did, I wouldn’t be living in a place like this.
I held perfectly still as the sounds continued from the kitchen. I heard a soft curse and sniffed the air. I frowned. Someone was trying to be quiet while they . . . cooked? It all came back in a flash. The huge biker who had started showing up last night. He’d driven me home and . . .
I closed my eyes, trying to remember. I blushed, recalling the way he’d kissed me and tucked me into my bed. He hadn’t looked happy about letting me sleep, but he did.
I ran my hand through my hair and peeked into the kitchen. It wasn’t far. The apartment was tiny, with a just a tiny bedroom and a kitchen big enough for a small table and chairs. There was the ancient bathroom that was surprisingly clean, a closet in the short hallway, and that was it. No living room. That was it.
Home, sweet, home.
And right now, there was a massive six-foot-tall man in leather and ripped denim, bending over the stove while a delicious smell wafted over to me. He looked up from what he was doing and smiled.
“Hello, beautiful.”
He set down the spoon he was using on a folded paper towel and pulled me in for a kiss. A long, deep kiss that made me forget where I was for a minute. His lips were so warm and smooth. They molded to mine and then parted, his tongue slipping deep into my mouth. I kissed him back, tentatively at first, and then with an urgency I didn’t quite understand.
“Damn!”
He’d lifted me slightly, I realized. My feet were dangling off the floor. He set me down gently and shook his head.
“Hmm. Damn.”
“You said that already.”
He just bit his lip and went back to the stove. The man was too pretty for words. His dark green eyes were heavy-lidded and sensual-looking. His jaw could cut glass it was so sharp. And his lips were pink and soft. He was almost too good-looking.
I tried to focus, still feeling like I was half-asleep.
“You . . . cooked for me?”
“Stocked the fridge, too. Though to be honest, I don’t much like the thought of you here all by yourself.” He gave me a stern look. “This is not a good neighborhood.”
He sounded like a mother hen. It didn’t make sense with the tough and dangerous, sexy as all get-out image he presented. The man couldn’t be real. Could he?
“Who are you?” I breathed, staring at him like he’d stepped out of a movie poster.
He cocked an eyebrow at me.
“Callaway.” He gave me a cocky smile. “The guy who had his tongue down your throat a few seconds ago, remember?”
“First name?”
He leaned against the counter and crossed his arms. His thick, burly, muscled arms.
“Andrew. But nobody calls me that.”
“Not even your grandma?”
He gave me a challenging look.
“No. She doesn’t.”
I hid a smile. He was lying. Of course his granny called him by his first name. At least sometimes.
“Okay, fine. But who are you?”
He crossed his thick, muscular arms over his chest. He looked resigned. Almost wary.
“Alright, let’s do this. I ride with the SOS.”
“SOS?”
“Sons of Satan. I’m their ink master.”
“Ink?”
He shrugged out of his leather jacket and reached for his shirt. He gave me a look and hesitated.
“Might as well get this out of the way.”
He pulled his black T-shirt up and over his head, holding it loosely in his hand. I barely noticed. I was staring at his chest. His arms. Everywhere.
He was covered in ink.
Literally covered in it.
“It’s . . .” I reached out and traced the outline of a bird that looked like it was actually flying. It was so realistic. He flinched as my finger brushed his skin. “Beautiful.”
He exhaled, staring down at me with a hard look on his face.
“You think so?”
I nodded breathlessly. I’d never seen anything like it. His entire upper body was tatted, but what tats they were.
It wasn’t the usual skulls and daggers and snakes, though he did have a snake winding up one arm. This was more like a painting, with many elements woven together. Much of it was abstract, with some words here and there, references to Devils, and a scrawled Live Free or Die near his collarbone.
“You did this yourself?”
He nodded, watching me carefully.
“You’re an artist.”
“Tattoo artist, yeah.”
“No, I mean . . . you are an artist.”
He smiled brilliantly then.
“Thanks, babe.” He kissed me again, his hands cupping my ass and squeezing. “Hmm . . . stop distracting me. You need to eat.”
He gently pushed me toward the table.
“Sit.”
I sat just as my stomach gave a loud rumble. I stared hungrily as he set down a plate of pasta, little twisty bows slathered in red sauce. There was a piece of bread on the side that smelled like garlic and olive oil.
I almost moaned in ecstasy.
“It smells amazing.”
“Eat.”
He sat across me and offered me a small bowl with grated cheese. I took a spoonful and shook it over my food.
“Italian food?”
He raised an eyebrow.
“Did you think Callaway was Spanish?”
I laughed, piling a fork high with food.
“No, it sounds English, I guess.”
He grinned widely while I tried to eat with dignity. It was so tasty that it was difficult.
“Irish. I’m half and half.”
He set a plate down in front of me.
“But I don’t know shit about cooking Irish food. Nana’s second-generation Italian.”
“She taught you how to cook?”
He nodded. The man could cook, ride, he was a wizard with a tattoo gun, and he hadn’t pressured me for sex. He’d let me sleep. I looked away, not sure how I felt about any of this.
That will teach you to judge a book by its cover, Mols.
He ran his hand through his hair and then laid it on the table. I stared at his inked knuckles. His chest was still bare and his gaze was too direct.
“When can I see yo
u again?”
“You’re seeing me now.”
He made a face.
“I want to see you for more than half an hour at a time.” He took a bite of my food and I stared at his lips as he ate. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. “I want a whole night.”
I felt my cheeks get hot. He was getting ahead of himself. But was he really? I hadn’t said no to anything he had asked of me. He might be a creep, the kind of guy a girl should avoid, but he could also be the perfect person for a stupid girl who didn’t know any better to lose her virginity to.
Maybe if I had zero expectations . . . maybe I wouldn’t get hurt.
Because it wasn’t like Mr. Tattooed Sex God was going to stick around. Even stupid, inexperienced me knew that.
Besides, I didn’t think I had the strength to say no. I knew I had to try. To stop this thing that had started between us. It wasn’t going to go anywhere, and my brother needed me.
“I don’t know what you want.”
I felt naked, totally exposed when I lifted my eyes to his.
“You. Just you.”
I shook my head and pushed away from the table.
“Look, you’re nice and all but . . .”
“Nice?”
“Well, yeah.”
He stood up, crossing the tiny kitchen in two steps. He stared down at me, not touching me.
“I’m sorry, Callaway. My life is . . . complicated.”
“I can handle it.”
“What for? Why even bother?”
His hands came up to cup my chin, tilting my face so I had no choice but to look into his eyes. His thumb brushed my bottom lip and his eyes stared hungrily at my mouth.
“For this.”
His mouth crashed down on mine. I realized belatedly that his other kisses had been tame. He’d been holding back. This need, this hunger inside him, was far bigger than anything I had ever imagined.
This wasn’t Romeo and Juliet. This was heat, pure white heat and power blazing between us. I could feel it licking my skin as he pushed me against the kitchen wall and tried to melt into me.
My thigh was hoisted up as he worked his hips into me. Our tongues tangled as he held me firmly in place, grinding his erect cock into me through our clothes. Considering this was more than I’d ever done before, I was more than overwhelmed.
I was not ready for this.
I was not ready for him.
“Wait.”
His hand was sliding under my shirt to tug on my bra strap. I whimpered at the feeling of his warm hand as it closed over my breast. My nipple responded immediately, pushing up into a sharp point. It only intensified the feelings that were spiraling through my body.
Too much. Too fast.
“Wait.”
He lifted his head and stared at me, the thick muscle in his jaw ticking.
“You okay?”
I nodded, then shook my head as he started to kiss me again.
“Callaway . . .”
“What?”
“I have to go. My shift.”
He swallowed and nodded jerkily.
“Right. Yeah. Your shift.”
He was staring at my mouth as he moaned.
“You sure you can’t be just a little bit late?”
“No. I can’t.” I sighed. “And I’m not ready for this. For any of it.”
He stepped back, his eyes glued to my face.
“I’m not going to hurt you, Mols.”
When had he started calling me that? That was what my brother called me. And . . . my parents. I shrugged as if it didn’t matter. That was my defense. When everything sucks, pretend like you don’t care. Then go cry your face off when you’re alone.
“I know, I just . . . I don’t really have time to date.”
He stepped forward again, pressing me into the wall.
“We’ll make time.”
I stared up at him, heat swirling in my belly. Then I swallowed.
“You’re a really great guy, Callaway.”
He narrowed those gorgeous green eyes at me.
“Don’t.”
“But I’m not looking for anything.”
“Don’t.”
His voice was raw. Ragged. Painfully exposed.
“I’m sorry. I can’t see you right now.”
He stared at me for a long minute more before turning on his heel and walking away. I flinched when I heard the front door close behind him.
I’d done the responsible thing. The right thing for me and for Tommy.
So why did I feel so wretched?
Chapter Five
Callaway
“More.”
Donnie leaned backward behind the bar, staring at me like I was a dog on a fucking skateboard. I didn’t care. I felt lower than a dog. Hell, at least dogs were loyal. People petted them. Molly would never have told a cute little dog to fuck off.
“What?”
He just shook his head and poured me another shot of tequila. I held out my hand and he grudgingly put the bottle in it. It was the good stuff, not the swill he served everyone else.
I ignored the shot glass and tipped the bottle back, letting it slosh into my mouth. It burned my throat on the way down. Good. I wanted to feel pain. Anything to blot out this crazy feeling inside me.
Because of her.
It was hard to believe, but I’d been rejected. Not just rejected. Cast aside. And by a little girl. A little girl who wanted me.
A little girl who had melted in my arms.
“Molly . . .”
“What did he say? Did he take Molly?”
Lucky leaned down and stared at me, checking my pupils. He’d come up with Whiskey and me, but he’d been out of the country on a tour of duty for the past two years.
“Welcome back, fucker.”
He grinned at me, his clean-shaven head gleaming in the neon lights. Donnie clasped his forearm and hugged him over the bar. Jack and Whiskey came in with Dev a few minutes later.
“Well, well, well. Look what the cat dragged in.”
Dev was eyeing Lucky, wondering if he was still the crazy young guy who could give even me a run for my money. Lucky saluted Whiskey, which made us all laugh.
“At ease, soldier.”
Lucky plucked the bottle out of my hands and took a swig. Then he looked at it, shaking his head.
“How much of this have you had?”
I moaned and reached for the bottle.
“Not enough.”
“Hey, man, if you’re rolling on Molly, you need to hydrate.” He looked around at the rest of the guys, who were staring at him openmouthed. “What? It’s true. Ravers die all the time when a fucking bottle of Gatorade could have saved their lives.”
“I’m not rolling. But I will take any drugs you have on you.”
“Sorry, man. I don’t partake anymore.”
I sneered at him and did the shot that had been sitting there all this time. I reached blindly for another drink and found a cold bottle of beer pressed into my palm. Around me, my brothers caught up with our old friend. Baby pictures were passed around. Wedding rings were counted. Donnie’s cousin Mac took over serving while the rest of them shot the shit.
“We’re the only ones left, eh, Callaway?”
I moaned again.
“He said Molly! I fucking heard him!”
Donnie grabbed the bottle of tequila out of Lucky’s hand.
“I think he’s talking about a girl.”
“Only one?”
Jack’s voice was so deep, only dogs could hear it. And the guys, apparently. Everyone laughed. I glared at them all.
Some brothers they were. I was heartbroken and they laughed.
“You guys suck. Everybody sucks. Except her.”
“She wouldn’t suck?” Lucky laughed, slapping my back. “You must be losing your touch, man.”
“Wouldn’t do anything. Never been with anyone before. She said . . .”
Whiskey leaned in, staring at my face.
“She said I was a nice guy but she didn’t have time.”
“You are shitting me.”
I shook my head and laid it on the bar, moaning pathetically.
“A woman . . . turned you down?”
“She said you were nice?”
Lucky made an ‘ooh’ sound which made me want to punch him. So I did. But I didn’t put my heart into it.
“Ow, fucker.” Lucky started grinning like an ape. “Or actually . . . not a fucker.”
He found this hilarious. Thankfully, the rest of the guys did not.
Dev cleared his throat.
“Did you say she’s a virgin?”
I nodded miserably.
“She put the brakes on. I was right there, man.”
“Maybe it’s for the best, man. It’s kind of a big deal for a girl. You can have five girls a night.”
“I don’t want five girls!” I said, swinging my arms dramatically. My beer spilled and Jack stepped back to avoid getting splashed. “I just want her!”
“Holy shit.” Donnie’s voice was awestruck.
Whiskey was grinning.
“I thought this day would never come.”
I stared around at the guys and shook my head.
“You guys don’t get it. She’s perfect. She’s so good and I . . .”
“We get it, Cal. We do.”
“Get what?”
Everyone turned to look at Lucky. He was the only one with a dumbfounded look on his face. Mac walked over and had the same stupid expression.
“Love, you idiot.” Whisky smacked the back of his head for good measure, making Lucky rub his head and glare at us.
“Why does everybody keep hitting me?”
“Because you’re an idiot.” Jack winked at him to take the sting out. “How long have you known this girl, anyway?”
I cleared my throat.
“Couple of days. How could this be happening to me?”
Jack slapped my back. It was supposed to be brotherly, but since the man was built like a redwood, it felt more like a two by four landing on my shoulder.
“Happened to me in less than five seconds.”
“Five? Seriously?”
“I knew that first night.”
“No, you didn’t.” Dev was grinning ear to ear. He loved teasing Jack. He and Donnie were the only ones who could get away with it. “You fought it tooth and nail.”
