Steele: Into Your Heart (Carolina Bad Boys #3

by Rie Warren

  I really liked that, but . . . “You said you don’t wear skirts.”

  “Technically not a skirt. It’s a dress.” She flipped the thigh-high hem with a smile. “And I meant when I’m on my bike.”

  “Hmm.” I rubbed a finger across my lips. “I like it.”

  When I got up, Ashe stared at me. I stretched, too, all my muscles contracting. Fuck me, but I felt awesome. I sauntered up to her and lifted her chin. Sliding my fingers through her hair—finally loosened from the ponytail—I held her still for my slow, deep, drugging kiss.

  Her tongue played with mine, and her hands settled on my back, pulling me closer until my cock rubbed against the white material of her dress.

  I broke away with a soft groan. Then I swatted her on the ass and asked, “What’s for dinner?”

  “Brodie! You pig. Did you forget which one of us carries the gun around here?”

  “Nope. I think it’s hot.” Then I remembered her gunshot wounds and reconsidered with a deep frown. “Long as you don’t get shot at again. That fucking flips me out.”

  Her eyes flickered to mine before she looked away. A feeling of intense protectiveness over Ashe made a new home in my gut.

  She tossed me my jeans. “I suppose if I have to feed you, you better put on some clothes.”

  “Really?”

  ****

  I helped Ashe make dinner, of course. All I ended up doing was some slicing and dicing, but I wasn’t a total waster. The pasta dish was really good, and I told her so after I dug in.

  “Fresh shrimp?” I asked.

  Her bare foot hooked behind my calf as she sat across from me. “Shem Creek.”

  “You know your foot’s gonna have to reach a lot higher to find what you want, Ashe.”

  She chuckled and withdrew her leg.

  Bummer.

  We devoured the food and drank a bottle of white wine. She was surprised I knew it was Chenin Blanc. Like I was a total blockhead.

  “You know, I’m more than just an MC guy.”

  Ashe reached across the table, placing her hand on top of mine. “I know. I saw you with Wyatt, remember?”

  I nodded.

  “You are a really good man, Brodie. Much more than I’d ever imagined.”

  “Oh? You imagined me before?”

  “We already went over this. High school crush.” She pushed her chair back, in a hurry to drop the conversation.

  “And you said you could work me out of your system in one week.” I grabbed her hand as she darted away from the table.

  “I lied.”

  “Did ya now?”

  She nodded.

  “You don’t look too happy about that, Ashe. But let me tell you, I’m real happy to be here with you.”

  “You are? But I’m kind of a bitch.” She shrugged her shoulders as if she couldn’t help it and one of the skinny straps on her sundress fell to her upper arm.

  “Sexy bitch,” I murmured. “By the way, I’m stayin’ tonight.” No ifs, ands, or buts.

  “Brodie. I don’t think . . .”

  “Good. Don’t think. Don’t talk. Best idea you’ve come up with yet.” I hauled her into my lap.

  She slapped at my hands, halfheartedly resisting.

  “Can’t help it. I’m a touchy-feely kinda guy.” Nuzzling and nipping her neck, I chuckled when she squealed.

  “Never would’ve guessed that.”

  “Never would’ve guessed a lot of things about me.” I lifted her in my arms and carried her upstairs. “I’ll do the dishes later. Bed. Now.”

  After I set her down in her bedroom, she began to unzip the back of her dress.

  I stopped her. “Leave it on.” I yanked the straps down and pulled the top until her tits tumbled out like ripe fruit. “Bed.”

  I followed right after Ashe, only pushing my jeans to my thighs so my cock thumped against my stomach. Sitting against the headboard, I snapped on a condom and held my dick primed.

  “Straddle me. Hold your dress up to your waist so I can watch your pussy take me, baby.”

  The hot wet slip of her tight channel over me caused my vision to kaleidoscope. I only let her ride for a few slow thrusts before I guided her off me. I kicked away my jeans, and rolled her to her side. I caressed her breasts, the wetness between her legs, the slope of her back. Aligning with her white-hot heat from behind, I entered her. A slow deep stretch with Ashe’s butt against my groin and her tits in my hands.

  And we fucked like that for an hour, the heat and smell and long wet kisses driving us higher. Slow . . . long . . . slippery . . . torturous. When she finally broke apart in my arms, I followed straight after. Always with my lips on hers, my arms clenched tight around her, my hips rolling into her.

  I got up in the middle of the night and loaded her dishwasher like I said I would. I wasn’t a fucking slouch.

  As soon as I was done, I made my way back upstairs and into Ashe’s bed. She breathed my name when I pulled her against me again. Normally I wasn’t into the snuggle all night thing, but she felt so damn good, I wanted this shit on repeat.

  What got me up and at ’em me the next day was something, someone, shoving at me and shouting. I blinked, going from deep REM to waking in a split second. I caught myself just before I was unceremoniously rolled out of bed and onto the floor.

  I jacked up to sitting and stared at a possessed-looking, still naked Ashe. Shit, she could give Nick’s crazy characters a run for their money.

  “What the fuck, Ashe?”

  She rose from the bed and opened the door. Again, completely fucking buck-ass naked. She looked absolutely stunning, and more than half deranged as she pointed at me. “You have to go, Brodie.”

  I tried to shake the sleep fuzzies from my head. “Huh?”

  “Out! You need to go.”

  “Why?” I kicked off the sheet and did an all over jaw-popping stretch.

  Ashe’s jaw popped open, too.

  “What’s your new hang-up today?” I raked my fingers through my hair and winked at Ashe as she did the guppy routine.

  “It’s ten o’clock. I overslept. You need to leave right now.” She finally hinged her jaw back in place.

  “And why?” I lazily stifled a yawn.

  “I just . . . you just need to go.”

  Something scratched at the back of my head, like nails dragged down a chalkboard. “Tell me you’re not married,” I said flatly.

  “No, of course not. I’m just . . .”

  “You’re just what? Out for an easy ride with the bad boy when and where you want it?” My good morning happies took a nosedive.

  Her eyes turned cold gray and her mouth snapped shut. “I’m not doing this with you, Brodie.”

  “That’s not what you said last night. Three times in fact.”

  She threw my jeans at me, and they splatted against my chest before I caught them in my hands. “This is only going to work if it’s NSA between you and me.”

  I pulled on my clothes, pushed my feet into my boots . . . and where the fuck was my vest? Oh yeah, half shoved under the bed. Because Ashe tore it off me last night.

  “What if that’s not what I want?” I scowled.

  “Then we’re done.”

  “So be it.” I slipped past Ashe and into the hall. I hit the stairs without a backward glance. “See ya ’round.”

  Or not.

  ****

  Several days later, I still reeled from my kicked-to-the-curb status. No-strings-attached-Ashe pissed me off. She wouldn’t let me take her out to dinner or on a date now that we were back in the real world. She offered a non-relationship made up entirely of sex with no emotional hang ups whatsoever. Every MC brother’s wettest dream unless he wanted to settle down.

  Screw that.

  Loping down the porch of Boomer’s and my house, I hit the pavement on foot instead of going by motorcycle. The June heat clung to me, a hot moist mist that slowed my steps as I ambled along Pitt Street in the Old Village. Damn, I loved summer in Charlesto
n. Maybe I’d get my surfboard out tomorrow, ride the waves at dawn.

  Dogs yapped. They also crapped on the sidewalk, but the good citizens of Mt. Pleasant dutifully plastic-bagged the turds. On a happier note, gardens on either side of the road burst with flowers, and yep. Lookie there. Tiger lilies front and center in more than one courtyard.

  Doors were thrown open—the midsummer neighborly feel alive and well.

  I strode along toward the Old Village Post House restaurant with its white clapboard and black plantation shutters. I stopped and lifted my eyes as a pair of big boots almost butted mine.

  It was Josh Stone and his lady, Leelee. Wow. She looked good. But I knew better than to ogle that shit if I wanted to keep my peepers in my head. Josh was known to throw a punch—he and Nick had gone a round with Boomer and me last year. Still, it was impossible to ignore Leelee’s big smile, her bright green eyes, the long loose strawberry red curls. And it was for sure beyond my capabilities to miss the huge swell of her belly.

  Josh and I bumped knuckles.

  “’Z’up?” I asked.

  “Takin’ my woman to dinner.” His large hand caressed the mound of her belly, and damn if she didn’t glow.

  “Where’s the runt?”

  “JJ? He’s at my ma’s tonight.”

  “And tomorrow night.” Leelee twined her fingers into Josh’s short hair at the back of his neck, and he slanted hooded eyes at her.

  “Yeah,” he grunted. A wolfish grin split his lips.

  Bet he had a dirty weekend planned, after he took care of his woman’s appetite. Good guy, made of all the best things. Rough and rumble on the outside, but you just had to watch him with his son and his wife to know he was all bark because he took care of his people first and foremost.

  Nick Love was made of the same material, I realized now that I actually liked him. Damn, I was glad Cat had found her way with him. Their touch-and-go was a frigging heart attack in the making, but they’d pulled through.

  I envied those two guys. They had it all. Family. Love. Sex that wasn’t so-called NSA. Not that I ever wanted to think about Cat in that way. 1. She was my sister. 2. She could be a straight-up shrew in bitch boots.

  I left Josh and Leelee to it after a goodnight handshake. Back at the house, I went for my Harley. The “fuck off” helmet on my head, I whipped across Mt. Pleasant to the Retribution clubhouse. I needed a drink or two or three.

  As soon as I stepped inside, everyone focused on me. Some of the chicks even glared at me—Leta of course, but she was just the tip of the iceberg in a long line of “you suck” stares stabbing me.

  What the motherfuck?

  Several of the guys murmured with deep scowls on their faces.

  “Word got out.” Tuck pushed a beer into my hand. His round face was flushed.

  “What goddamn word? I got piercings all up and down my dick?” I took a long swallow, wondering where the animosity was coming from.

  “Ashe. Officer Kingston.” Tuck tweaked the curly handlebar of his mustache.

  “I guess Leta spilled the beans after she spread her legs for her latest conquest. And so what?”

  “So, some folks don’t think you should be parlaying with the police.”

  I barked a laugh so loud absolutely everyone in the dimly lit room redoubled their efforts to bore holes through my head with their eyeballs. “Parlayin’? It’s called getting pussy. And it’s no one’s damn business.”

  I drained my beer, hit the bar, and ordered Probie to get me another without even opening my mouth.

  Tuck eased up beside me. “You talked a lot of shit about that lady in the past. Some of our members aren’t cool with the sudden fraternization.”

  “God, Gramps. Ain’t I entitled to a sweet ride for a week or two without you fuckwits going Maury Povich on me? ’Sides, it doesn’t matter.” I nailed Probie with a quick glance for a shot to go with my brew.

  Good dude. He pushed the tiny glass in front of me no questions asked.

  I swilled the tequila, taking in the strange turn of events.

  “They’re just looking out for the family, Brodie my boy.” Tuck accepted and drained his shot.

  “So I brought this on myself.”

  “Doesn’t help you fucked just about every broad in here,” he mentioned.

  I did a quick tally of all the pussy on offer. “Not just about.” I’d done every one of the women, in one way or the other, the dirtier the better. “Boomer know about Ashe?”

  “Not yet.”

  “Keep it that way. Bribe ’em if you have to.”

  “Always.” Tuck gave me a hearty back slap.

  The others seemed to have gathered their balls for a good old-fashioned standoff, because they moved as one to approach me. Probably thirty pissed-off cunts, Dirk at the forefront with Leta by his side. Dirk was one of the original charter members. He’d never made the MC officer ranks, and that rankled him. He swam in his own sea of bitterness, which leaked from him like dirty oil dripping from an engine.

  “We got a bone to pick with you.” The forty-something dude stomped right up to me. His mean features and low scowl didn’t scare me.

  “Make an appointment.” I didn’t do barroom brawls in my own church.

  “She’s the pig who arrested your sister!” Dirk’s beetle eyes narrowed on me.

  I stood taller. “Exactly what the fuck is your beef?”

  “Bros before bitches.”

  A round of calls echoed Dirk’s tirade.

  Seriously?

  I pressed the oversized hairy Hobbit back with one finger on his chest. “This isn’t a fraternity. You don’t get to haze me or Ashe. I’m the VP, and you can kiss my goddamn ass if you don’t approve of who I’m fucking.”

  “You admit it?” His voice echoed through the silent room.

  “I admit you’re a sad twisted bastard, and you probably need to go up one bra size.” I sneered.

  Family? Sure we were. Not always one big happy family, that was all. Just like the Hatfields and McCoys, we had our feuds. Dirk was hitting a leeetle bit too far beyond the amusing Family Feud thing by going after Ashe.

  Leta took point with that chalkboard-nails screech. “She’s a pig. A snitch. You can’t bring her in here.”

  Like it mattered. My relationship is in the shitter before it even started.

  That didn’t stop me from blasting back. “Bet your ass I can. And by the way, why don’t you go hook at some other MC, Leta? I’m tired of you.”

  Her ear-splitting howl curdled my eardrums.

  Tail, Handsome, Tuck and the Probie kid lined up beside me.

  Tuck said, “All right-y. Get back to what you were doing. You heard Brodie.”

  “One more thing that ain’t any of y’all’s business. I’m done with Ashe, so you don’t have to worry.” Or rather, she was done with me.

  I wasn’t about to let Dirk’s dirty tactics drop, though. I grabbed him by his vest and pulled him up to my face. “You were a loser Day One. And you’ll be a loser when you go down. I can’t wait to make that happen. Cunt.”

  Dirk scrabbled away as soon as I let him go. Funny. I almost laughed.

  “That was a dick thing to say.” Tuck frowned at me.

  “Oh yeah? I got more coming.” Add that to the long list of reasons Ashe didn’t want to be with me.

  I stalked out the door. Again without looking back.

  Chapter Six

  Long Shot

  TWO WEEKS AFTER ASHE kicked me out, I did the solo routine, and I started early. If I’d wanted company that Saturday afternoon I’d have headed to the club. Instead I nailed my ass to a barstool at Wild Wings and decided to try every brew on tap.

  The live music from the band on the little kitty-corner stage drilled into my eardrums. It wasn’t too lame. Besides, I had a huge capacity for drowning out white noise when I wanted to. That included so-so music, Boomer droning on at me, and things like screeching babes working the jilted-lover-rage in days of old. That sort of white
noise went in one ear and out the other. Yet despite my ability to ignore women at will I couldn’t forget the sound of Ashe’s voice when she basically told me to take a hike.

  It was actually kind of ironic Ashe had booted me out. I’d pulled the same don’t-care maneuver a lot. So I guessed I had it coming.

  I finished my beer and motioned for another. Setting my elbows on the bar top, I stroked my goatee and avoided making eye contact with any of the women around me as they jockeyed for position. I’d spent the weeks surfing, riding, working, and decidedly not getting laid at every opportunity. That right there was a total game changer for me. I was used to hitting the tail hard, at length, and whenever and wherever I wanted. Finding the honeys was never a problem. They usually hit on me.

  Like right now for instance. I’d been inside the bar approximately fifteen minutes when the first woman who wanted to spread-eagle for me did the boob-to-arm-oops rub. She angled her poofy Angelina Jolie lips at me in a smile that was all about an invitation to get down and dirty in the backroom. She positioned her I-do-yoga body to the max as she leaned even further against me.

  My skin crawled on contact. A few weeks ago, I’d have been all over that. This time I glared straight ahead. Clearly misinterpreting my signals, li’l spin-class momma giggled and—surprise—accidentally dropped her purse. Which meant she had to bend over and wiggle her Pilates-made ass at me.

  Funny. What I wanted was a woman who rode a bike just like she rode me. A woman who was strong enough to put me in my place, get me in cuffs, tie my tongue in knots. Someone who had her own career and her own life. Yeah, that. Too bad The One didn’t want to include me in her life, too.

  Glower.

  Cue the cutesy OMG giggles from the tantric temptress’s girlfriends.

  Jesus.

  In the past I’d have done girl number one—the chick brave enough to approach me—made sure she got off a few times, then I’d have probably gone a couple rounds with one or two of the others.

  I’d been that guy for so long it felt like my entire fucking philosophy about fucking had been turned upside down and inside out. I didn’t want fast. I didn’t want anonymous. I didn’t want a crowd of babes in my bed. And I didn’t want easy. At least that much was self-evident since I still had the mega-hots for the least easy, most complicated woman I’d ever met.