Steel Crew : Books 1-3 (Steel World Box Set Book 7)

by Mj Fields

  Again, why, why, why do I open my mouth when he’s around?

  I quickly reach for my glass of wine, hoping to guzzle it and praying it will knock me out completely. I close my eyes and start to take a huge drink when the cup leaves my hand.

  I open my eyes as he takes my hand and pulls me up while setting the cup on the table beside us.

  “Been drinking all day, Katy.” He releases my hand.

  “You’ve mentioned that twice now. So what?”

  With one of his hands, he takes the side of my face and tilts my head back, forcing me to look up at him. “I’m gonna kiss you.”

  “Are you asking permission or—”

  He moves his hand to the back of my head, where he grips my hair and tugs it back. Then he licks his full lips before pressing them against mine.

  Neither of us close our eyes.

  He slides his lips across mine, applying barely any pressure. A groan vibrates from deep inside of him before he runs his tongue along the seam of my lips, and I open for him.

  I feel his hand leave my hair and slide down the back of my neck. He then spreads his hand out and traces my jawline with his thumb. His other hand is now on the small of my back, pulling me closer.

  My mouth is watering. My legs are trembling. My body’s core is on fire. I want him to kiss me more than I have ever wanted anything in my life, and he’s doing nothing but licking me slowly, tormenting me.

  I see what he’s doing.

  He’s playing a game.

  God, how could I be so stupid?

  I start to step back, but his grip tightens.

  “I’m all set.” My voice quivers, making me sound completely opposite of how I intended.

  Not strong, weak.

  So damn weak.

  His voice is deep and husky when he asks, “You sure about that?”

  I put my hands on his hips and nod.

  “Then don’t you dare kiss me back.”

  He moves in slow. Too fucking slow.

  I pull him closer and instead of waiting, I kiss him.

  The sound that escapes him when our lips meet comes from deep inside of him, giving me the courage it takes to continue kissing. When he pulls me even closer and presses his tongue against mine, pushing it completely out of the way, my knees buckle. If he were to let go, I might fall.

  He doesn’t let go.

  His kiss intensifies. Hands in my hair, his tongue caressing mine, his other hand holding me securely against him.

  I can’t breathe, but I’m convinced his kisses are oxygen.

  His kiss, his taste, his scent, his touch … him. He has my senses scattered. I feel every ounce of control I thought I had is gone.

  Completely …

  Totally …

  He pulls his mouth from mine, and I grab his face.

  “Don’t stop,” I plead.

  “Katy …” he whispers and, for the first time, closes his eyes.

  “Please,” I seemingly pray, head bowed until it touches his chest.

  He scoops me up, and I grab his hair.

  Christ, it’s soft, so soft and thick.

  He crashes his mouth against mine again, licking deeper, harder, and controlling, so much different than moments ago.

  When I feel my back hit the chaise, he rips his mouth from mine with a growl and steps back.

  “Tomorrow. After dark. Down on the beach.”

  And then, he is gone.

  F’ Me Friday

  Katherine

  It’s late. I know it is, because I’ve pretended to still be asleep for quite some time.

  I had a dream about Brand last night. It’s the very first that wasn’t conjured in my imagination. It was not a daydream.

  We were dancing, he was kissing me, and it felt so real.

  So. Real.

  Not wanting to lose that feeling, I just lie back and bask in it. Because I know, in the light of day, all the things that were possible in the night look so much differently. And after this long weekend is over, I’ll be heading back to high school and Brand, as pathetic as it is that I know this, is going on a worldwide tour.

  I’ve tried to talk myself out of allowing this … wanting this to happen. Hell, I’ve even tried to use good old Catholic guilt to dissuade myself … but it hasn’t worked, and it won’t.

  I want Brandon Falcon.

  “Katherine.”

  Hearing Momma Joe’s voice at this moment is like a bucket of ice water being tossed on a burning fire.

  “You awake?”

  I roll over and see her standing at the foot of my bed.

  “Good morning,” I say as I sit up.

  She hurries to the head of the bed and puts the back of her hand on my forehead. “You feeling okay? You look flushed.”

  It’s a good damn thing I’m not one of the boys and pitching a tent.

  “Just tired,” I lie. “Too much sun yesterday.”

  She leans down and kisses one cheek then the other. “I’ve saved you some breakfast casserole. You better hop out of bed, get dressed, and come down to eat. Everyone else is all ready to go out surfing. Wouldn’t want you to miss out.”

  “I’ll be right down.”

  She winks then turns and walks out the door.

  There’s a sparkle in her eyes, an extra sparkle.

  Good God …

  “You better hurry up,” Tricks says as he snaps me in the ass with a towel. “We’re all heading out.”

  Rubbing my ass with one hand, I flip him off with the other as I tell him, “Give me five.”

  As he heads out the door, he calls over his shoulder, “You got four.”

  As soon as the French doors close, I hear, “You could always just skip it.”

  I look over my shoulder and see Brand leaning against the doorway, arms crossed over his bare, muscular chest, black board shorts riding low on his hips, and feet in slides. I swing my gaze back up and see he’s looking me over in the same way I was him.

  “I know there’s not a lot of waves on Lake Hopatcong, but you can’t be afraid of a little competition, now can you?”

  Pushing himself off the doorjamb, he smiles.

  That’s twice now I’ve seen a genuine and not a cocky or conceited smile grace his far too handsome face. Three times if you count my dream.

  I like it.

  I like it a lot.

  “Look at you,” he says, walking closer to me and pulling my shades from atop my head. “Still sass, but a lot less ass. I could get used to this.” He puts my shades on his head.

  “You want less ass, you better give me back those sunglasses. They’re my favorite.”

  Chuckling, he walks past me and opens the double doors to the refrigerator. “Less ass.” He looks over his shoulder and winks. “Hope that doesn’t screw up tonight’s plan.”

  In the dark of night and lying in my bed this morning alone, the thoughts of tonight seemed much less … intimidating.

  “Relax, Katy.” He turns with a casserole dish in his hands. “I wasn’t planning on any ass action anyway.”

  I’m sure my lower jaw is resting on the countertop, because when he looks up, he shrugs. “Your family has your back. Like I said, I’m only interested in your—”

  “Kiki!” Dad yells from the patio.

  Brand leans in, reaches over, lifts my chin, and whispers, “Front.”

  “Katherine Ann!” Dad yells.

  I clear my throat, pulling away from the intensity of his touch, and walk toward the door, yelling out to him, “Yeah, Dad?”

  “Grab the sunscreen on your way out. Your mom doesn’t need to burn again today.”

  “I’m fine,” Mom tells him.

  Dad whispers something to her. She smacks him and blushes.

  Not wanting in on their little inside joke, I step back and into a wall of muscle.

  I look back over my shoulder, and Brand leans down. I swear, if I didn’t move, he was going to kiss me.

  “My family,” I whisper-hiss at him.
>
  He looks slightly shocked but smiles. “Is that the way we’re playing this?”

  “How attached to your balls are you?” I hurriedly walk past him, and he laughs … loudly.

  Jesus, even his laugh is like a song.

  Since he kissed me. Or was it that I kissed him …?

  Until then, it would have rubbed me the wrong way. Now it rubs me in a different kind of way that could certainly be considered wrong, but this kind of wrong feels so damn right.

  “Been waiting for you to be legal for a hot minute, Katy. You have been since April.”

  “How do you know when my birthday is?” I ask, trying to quell the party inside my heart and the quickened beat of my heart.

  “You don’t know mine?” he asks, tossing a Post-it note that says my name in Momma Joe’s perfect cursive writing off the covered casserole dish.

  “No?” Mom’s right; when I lie, I answer in question form. Annoying.

  He lifts a shoulder and nods once. “Oh, I see how it is.”

  He grabs a fork out of the drawer below him and scoops out some of the egg baked casserole. He holds out the fork to me, and I lean in to take a bite.

  “Hell no!” He laughs as he pulls it back and shoves it into his mouth.

  Laughing, I lunge to grab the fork. “Did that Post-it say Brandon Falcon on it?”

  He holds the fork over his head. “When’s my birthday?”

  “Oh my good Lord, really?”

  He scoops up a heaping spoonful and shoves it in his mouth, laughing as he shakes his head and, with his mouth full, he mumbles, “So good.”

  “Let’s roll!” Max calls from outside.

  “Great,” I huff then start to walk out of the kitchen.

  Brand steps in front of me, stepping left then right, not letting me pass. I fake right again and go left, easily passing him.

  When I feel his arm snake around my waist, and then my feet leave the floor, I try to get away, but he chuckles.

  “When’s my birthday?”

  “Oh my God, like Christmas or something,” I fake uber annoyance.

  Somehow, my ass hits the countertop, and now I’m looking up at him.

  He winks. “Me and Jesus.”

  “I was wondering why you weren’t wearing a cowboy hat anymore. That head of yours would probably … Oh my God.” I cover my mouth, chewing the food he just shoved into it.

  “Seriously, Kiki, let’s go!” Patrick yells from outside.

  “Open.” Brand smiles kind of sweetly now.

  I swallow down the food in my mouth and do just that.

  Brand grabs my chin and rubs his thumb over my lower lip as I chew, but then he steps back when we hear the door open. He winks then says loud enough for whoever is coming to hear him, “You heard them, Katy; let’s go!” Then he walks away.

  I shovel two more spoonfuls into my mouth, throw the foil over the dish, stick the Post-it back on top, put it back in the fridge, and then I grab the sunscreen off the counter and head out.

  Not being a breakfast person, I know I’ve eaten plenty, but I’m definitely still hungry. My craving isn’t for food, though … it’s for more Brand Falcon attention.

  “Heads-up!” I yell before tossing the spray bottle of sunscreen to Dad, who catches it easily.

  “About time.” Smirking, he winks.

  “Sorry, Daddy.” I smile back.

  “You sure you’re feeling okay?” Mom asks.

  “She’s feeling just fine,” Momma Joe answers for me.

  I look over at her to see she has that damn extra sparkle in her eyes.

  “No fever, already checked.”

  “I’m good, just tired. And it’s the end of summer. I’m fully taking advantage of extra sleep, no rules, and no nuns for the next few days.”

  “You all still going to that Catholic school?” Brand almost laughs … almost.

  “Kiki’s senior year,” Max huffs. “By the time Truth, JT, and Tricks graduate, I’m gonna be out of there.”

  “That so?” Dad laughs.

  Max puffs out his chest. “Yeah, so are Tris, Brisa, and A, man. The rest of us, too. None of us wanna be stuck in that suck hole until we graduate.”

  Dad arches a brow and looks at Max as he finishes rubbing the sunscreen in on Mom’s shoulders. “Good enough for them, good enough for you all.”

  Max doesn’t back down. “We want to play real sports.”

  “You all play sports,” Uncle Cyrus interjects.

  “Yeah, dance, tennis, and baseball,” Max huffs. “I wanna play football. Be on a surf team. You know, options, man.”

  “That isn’t happen—”

  “We’ll discuss it when the time comes,” Mom interrupts Dad.

  Max looks at Momma Joe, widening his eyes as if to say, help me out.

  Justice, or JT as Max calls him, clasps Max’s shoulder. “All right, Mad Max, let’s hit the water.”

  Max groans as he and Justice walk away, Brand following them, laughing as Max grumbles, “Do you see what I have to work with at that school? Nothing. Not a damn thing. Same old, same old. Nothing new, nothing fresh. You’re so lucky to be traveling the world without your parents.”

  I look at Dad, who’s clearly frustrated, and then look at Mom, who just smiles at Max.

  He looks just like Dad—facial features, height, hell, he even walks like him. Someday, he’ll fill out like Justice and Patrick did seemingly overnight and the only difference will be his hair color, which is light like Mom’s.

  Mom looks over at me and shakes her head.

  “It’s so obvious.” I can’t help laughing.

  She shakes her head and holds back her laughter as she says … for the hundredth time, “He’s not my favorite. I love all three of you the same.”

  Dad shakes his head, rolls his eyes, and acts annoyed, but I know he’s not. He loves the way she loves him, and he loves her no less.

  “Hey, Kiki!” Truth yells, and I look toward the beach where they’re all standing, boards in the sand, waiting on me.

  “Get down there; Patrick has your board. I need a picture,” Momma Joe shoos me.

  I head down the wooden boardwalk, and Momma Joe and her husband Thomas follow.

  All eight of us are lined up in front of our boards, posing without prompt, because we’re used to it.

  “Brandon, get in there.” Momma Joe waves for him to join us.

  “Wouldn’t want to impose on your family—”

  “No imposition at all. I insist,” she interrupts him, as expected. She’s a firm believer that family is not just by blood.

  Brand nods and begins walking toward us. There is no question what direction he’s heading.

  “Oh my God,” Truth whispers from beside me. “Look at the way he’s looking at—”

  She snaps her mouth shut when I glare at her, and then a smirk curves up in the corner of her lips.

  I know what she’s thinking. I also know she’s not wrong, but still, no. Just, no.

  Brand steps in front of me, before sliding in between Truth and me, brushing against me as he turns, smirk playing on his full, gorgeous lips.

  Momma Joe says, “Forever Steel,” and we all say it back as we smile for the picture.

  My smile falters and my body stiffens when I feel his hand—Brand’s hand—splay across my back.

  “All right, I think we’re all …” Momma Joe starts.

  His hand flexes, fingertips pushing into my flesh a little, causing warmth to spread, and just as quick as that happens, he removes his hand from my body and steps away.

  “Momma Joe, how about you get in there?” Brand says in the most charming sort of way.

  “Oh, no, I—”

  “I insist,” he cuts her off.

  She laughs, knowing he threw her words, her insistent slight demand, back at her.

  He jogs to where he dropped his towel and grabs his phone as Momma Joe takes the spot he just left—beside me.

  Instead of using Momma Joe’s promp
t—Forever Steel—Brand smirks and says, “Forever Branded.”

  Momma Joe laughs as she squeezes my hip.

  He snaps the pic, and then we start to part ways.

  “Hold up. One more.”

  After he takes a few more, and the guys begin to grumble, Brand nods. “All set,” he says as he jogs over to his towel and drops his phone.

  “You okay?” Truth asks as she paddles toward me, away from where they all ditched Brand after what I can guess was a ten-minute half-assed tutorial.

  “They just left him?” I ask, trying my best to mask my annoyance.

  “They all learned far too early from Uncle Jase and Abe to actually know how to do that. And let’s be honest, they have zero patience. Plus, they’re not teachers.” She sits up on her board, straddling it like I am mine, as I wait for my next wave. “Why don’t you offer to teach him?”

  It’s not like I hadn’t considered doing just that, and as chill as Dad has been since he realized that “where there’s a will, there’s a way” after Bella and Tags got together, I’m not throwing caution to the wind and chancing … tonight being foiled.

  “Why don’t you?” I retort.

  Truth, being … Truth, shrugs as she pops two fingers in her mouth and whistles loudly. Brand looks toward us, and she waves him over. He lifts his chin, lies on his board, and starts to paddle toward us.

  Hot damn, that cowboy can even ride a board and look amazing doing so.

  Truth giggles, and I look at her. “What?”

  “Could have just asked for a wing girl, Kiki.” She winks. “I got you.”

  “That’s not what—”

  “What’s my name?” she interrupts.

  I roll my eyes and shake my head.

  “What’s my name?” She pretends to crack her knuckles as she rolls her neck, faking badass.

  I cave, “Truth.”

  “Then don’t give me anything but.” She winks.

  I look away from her and toward Brand. With each stroke of his arms, I watch, mesmerized by the way his muscles work together. Heat resonates through my body at a ridiculous rate as I think about how his hands took hold of my face, tilted my head back, licked his lips, and then pressed them against mine. The closer he gets to me, the more my core burns.

  When his eyes connect with mine, the smile in them falters, and he swallows hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing, and that seems to turn me on even further.