by Lilly Atlas
“Beth, no,” Shell called out, her voice matching the abject horror on Izzy’s face. Both women stood and reached out as though they could grab Beth across the twenty-five feet that separated them from the speedy toddler.
Everything around Jig seemed to freeze except for the little bundle of energy hurtling toward him. Time stood still, the busy clubhouse disappeared, even the air calmed. Jig’s lungs stopped functioning, and his breath caught in his chest. It wasn’t the first time she’d run to him, but it caused a temporary freak-out each time.
One second the red-haired three-year-old was speeding his way, a broad smile on her round face, and the next second, her toe caught, and she was flying toward the ground. Pure instinct kicked in and Jig lunged forward, catching her under the arms milliseconds before that adorable face hit the hardwood floor.
“Weee!” Beth squealed as she was swung into Jig’s arms, still smiling as though she hadn’t been a heartbeat away from a very different outcome.
“Shit, princess,” he said, holding her close, hoping it would calm his runaway heart. “You almost bit it there. Don’t run faster than those shrimpy legs can carry you, huh?”
Beth’s eyes grew wide, and she grabbed his face with both her hands. “You said shit,” she whispered. “Mommy says it’s a bad word.”
He winced. He’d never had to watch his mouth around his child because he hadn’t swore back then. As the image of his beautiful little girl filled his mind, he braced himself for the onslaught of pain.
It never came.
Sure, there was a twinge of sadness and regret, but Beth’s scolding grin took up the majority of space in his head at that moment. He could breathe, his gut wasn’t churning, hell, he could even smile.
He flicked his gaze to Izzy and Shell who wore twin looks of worry. As though the attention from Beth would send him spiraling. One wink in their direction, and their eyes widened so in tandem that it looked like they’d rehearsed it.
Jig chuckled and gave Beth a squeeze. Holding the slight weight of a wiggling child in his arms was having the complete opposite effect that he’d always feared. It felt nice, electrifying…right. “You’re right, squirt. I shouldn’t have said that. Guess you hear a lot of bad words around here, huh?”
Her nod was so solemn he couldn’t help but laugh again. “Mommy says Copper has a potty in his mouth and that’s why he says bad words the mostest.”
A potty in his mouth? Shit, he’d laughed more in the past thirty seconds than he had in years. The kid was a trip. “I’ll try to be more careful.”
“Good. Mommy will put you in the timeout chair if you say the bad words. Timeout is no fun. What’s a squirt?” As she spoke, she laid her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes. He’d overheard something about her missing her nap and Shell expecting a meltdown at any point. Maybe she’d just pass out on his shoulder. If it’d spare Shell some grief, he’d take one for the team. Had nothing to do with the fact that he was falling in love with a kid he’d been terrified of from the moment he met her.
“A squirt is a super cute little girl that everyone loves.”
“I always thinked you was scary, but mommy said you was just sad. Are you sad right now?”
He glanced at Izzy again. She and Shell had sat back down and were chatting again, but Izzy’s eyes kept flicking in his direction and she had a bit of a goofy grin on her face. Jig had a feeling his own smile matched hers.
“No, squirt, I’m not sad at all right now.”
“HOLY SHIT,” SHELL whispered in awe. “This is only the second time I’ve ever seen him hold her, and last time he looked like he wanted to die. Usually, he finds every excuse in the book not to be near her.”
“You’re kidding?” Izzy found herself just as fascinated by the big man holding the little bit of a child.
“Nope. But it’s not surprising if the rumors are true about his own daughter.”
It wasn’t Izzy’s place to confirm what Shell thought she knew, so she just hummed.
“Gets you, doesn’t it?” Shell asked with a knowing smirk.
“Huh?” Izzy tore her attention away from the sight of Jig holding a drowsy Beth. His expression had started as one of terror, then uncertainty, and now he had a dreamy look people got when snuggling a sleeping child.
“Right here”—Shell patted her stomach—“in the ovaries.”
Izzy leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms over her chest. Stupidly, she’d worn a sleeveless dress and could have used a sweater or maybe a Snuggie right about now. “What the hell are you running on about?”
Laughing, Shell pulled her oversize black cardigan snug around herself as though Izzy’s chill was trying to reach out to her. “Don’t even try to pretend you don’t feel it. There is nothing that makes a woman’s ovaries stand up and dance like the sight of a hot as hell man holding a sleeping child. Especially one that’s usually all growls and scowls.”
Izzy rolled her eyes. Ridiculous. “My ovaries aren’t doing anything. I don’t even want kids. That is having absolutely no effect on me.”
Liar. Well, not about the not wanting kids part. She’d never really imagined herself having children with such poor models of parenting in her life. But Shell was right about one thing. Seeing Jig holding Beth was making her insides all kinds of soft and squishy.
Those insides just needed to harden back up because no way, no how, was she going to get all swoony over a man. No matter how he looked holding a child. She was not that woman. Izzy took a giant mouthful of her favorite bourbon. Case in point, she wasn’t willing to give up this any time soon, if ever.
Still, an image of a dark-haired little boy with Jig’s navy-blue eyes and her fiery personality flashed through her mind.
Shit. She was losing it. Big time.
“Mmhm,” Shell said then clucked her tongue. “If you think that is sexy, which you do no matter how much you deny it…” She tapped her fingers on the table top. “I wish we knew someone with a new baby. Put one of those in Jig’s arms, and you’ll be flat on your back, legs spread in no time.”
Izzy sucked in a breath, and liquid sailed down her windpipe. She coughed until her lungs almost flew out of her mouth. “Jesus, Shell, you trying to kill me?”
“Sorry.” Shell winced. “I was just trying to say no woman can resist a man with a baby.”
“I can’t resist him enough already. We do not need any help in that department,” Izzy said, this time taking a tiny, cautious sip.
One of Shell’s blond eyebrows rose. “Do tell.”
“Uh, no.”
“Oh, come on.” Her glossy lips popped out into a pitiful pout. “I work two jobs, I have a three-year-old, and mean-as-hell bikers babysit my house every night. When do you think the last time I had sex was? I need to live vicariously through all my well-laid friends.”
It was at that moment that Copper emerged from his office and headed straight for their table, looking just as intimidating as usual with narrowed eyes, compressed lips, and clenched fists. Hell, he didn’t even need all that to be intimidating. His six-foot-five-inch bulky frame and president’s patch took care of that all on its own.
“Don’t think your schedule and your kid are what’s killing your sex life,” Izzy mumbled as Copper neared.
Shell followed Izzy’s gaze and looked over her shoulder. When her focus landed on Copper, she tensed. “Shit,” she muttered.
“Why the fuck didn’t you tell me your refrigerator wasn’t working, Shell?” Copper ground out, hovering above them.
Izzy wasn’t one to be intimidated by a man, yet angry Copper had her feeling a tad uncomfortable.
Shell either didn’t notice or didn’t care because she waved away Copper’s concern. “Because it’s my refrigerator and my problem, Cop. Has nothing to do with you or the club.” As she spoke, she straightened her shoulders and looked him right in the eye. Sure, even standing, she was more than a foot shorter than him, but Izzy had to hand it to her, she did not let him mow her over.
&nbs
p; “Woman,” he said on an exasperated sigh, “we could have had a new refrigerator out to you in less than a day. Why do you insist on being so damn stubborn?”
“Because it’s my life, Copper. I can handle it myself.”
“How are you supposed to take care of your child if you can’t even keep her food cold?”
Uh oh.
Shell’s face reddened, and she seemed to grow an inch or two. Her fingers curled into small fists that landed on her hips. “Are you trying to say I’m a bad mother?” she asked through teeth clenched so tight Izzy swore she could hear them grinding.
“What?” Copper ran a hand down his face and tugged at his beard. “That’s not what I’m saying. A fridge will be delivered tomorrow.”
Izzy could practically smell and see smoke coming out of Shell’s ears and nose. She couldn’t blame the woman. Accepting help from a man she was in love with who didn’t return the sentiment would be absolute hell. Copper didn’t seem to understand that. He probably thought he was helping, taking care of her in his own way, when all he was doing was crushing her more each day.
And that was why Izzy steered clear of love and relationships. Too fucking painful.
“Don’t waste your time or money. I won’t accept the delivery.” Shell was practically screeching now.
Out of the corner of her eye, Izzy saw Jig start to head their way with an out cold Beth draped over his chest.
“Then I’ll have it fucking installed while you’re at work,” Copper yelled, just as loud.
“You wouldn’t dare!”
Jig cleared his throat. “Hey, Shell,” he said in a low, very calm tone. “Want me to put the squirt somewhere for you?” He winked at Izzy, and she relaxed. Perfect timing as she hadn’t had a clue how to de-escalate the verbal smackdown ramping up in front of her.
Shell’s shoulders lost their tension, and she dragged a hand through her curls. “Thanks, Jig. I should just go and get her home to bed.” She held out her arms. “I’ll carry her to my car.”
Gently, Copper nudged Shell aside. “I got her. You were just saying the other day how heavy she’s getting, and I’m sure you have to grab her stuff from upstairs.” With a skill Izzy never would have guessed he possessed, he shifted Beth from Jig’s arms to his without so much as a peep from the sleeping child.
Shell visibly relaxed and softened toward Copper the moment her child was in his arms. Huh, maybe there was something to her theory because two minutes ago, Izzy would have sworn Shell was about to strangle him. Now she looked ready to hop on and ride him into the sunset.
“Thanks, Copper. I’ll be right out.” Shell turned to Izzy. “Bye, girl.” They hugged, and Shell whispered, “Grab it while you can because nothing sucks more than wanting what you can never have.” Then she gave Izzy a sad smile and went off to fetch Beth’s things.
Izzy turned to Jig. He snagged her by the waist and drew her flush against him. Immediately, her focus went to the small spot of drool running down Jig’s cut. “She slimed you,” Izzy said with a smile.
There was an odd look on his face, one Izzy hadn’t seen before. Shouldn’t be surprising. It had to be unnerving being around children, especially one who was close in age to his own child who died. “You all right?”
He nodded. “Yeah, I’m actually pretty damn good.” Then he kissed her, and anything else she might have said fell straight out of her head.
The man kissed better than any other man had ever fucked her.
“Upstairs,” she said, breathless when they broke apart.
“Yeah,” he said then smirked. “Wanna bone?”
Izzy pulled back and narrowed her eyes. “Excuse me? What did you just ask me?”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
IZZY WAS ON him the moment the door slammed behind them. He grunted as she none-too-gently shoved him against the closed door until his back hit the wood.
“My show,” she said as though daring him to disagree.
He bit off his laugh. Sure, her show…for now.
“All right,” he said. “Your show. Can I make two requests?”
Her lower lip tucked between her teeth as she considered his question. “Let’s hear it. Then I’ll decide if I want to grant it.” One black eyebrow arched. Izzy was like a queen lording over her subject.
“I want to see you strip.”
Her eyes darkened. She liked that idea. “I think that can be arranged.”
“And I want your hair down.”
That made her hesitate. Each time he’d been around her, except the one day in the diner, she’d had her hair in that same tight Dutch braid, or whatever she called it. It was hot as fuck. With the buzzed sides, she looked like some sort of warrior from a dystopian movie. But that one time it’d been down, when he caught her off guard at the diner? She’d been stunning. Feminine, vulnerable, softer.
Probably all the reasons she never let it down.
“O-okay,” she said, a small hitch in her usually confident voice.
“Just for me,” he said.
A smile curved her gloss covered lips. “Just for you,” she whispered.
He got comfortable, resting against the door with his arms crossed over his chest. “Get to it, sweetheart.”
Something happened to her every time he called her “sweetheart.” Some of her sharp edges dulled, and she wasn’t quite so prickly.
Izzy shot him the sexiest, most teasing, smile he’d ever seen as she took two steps back. Far enough away, he couldn’t reach out and haul her in if he got tired of being hands off.
“No touching the merchandise,” she said wagging a finger at him that moved in time with the seductive sway of her toned hips. This might have been a stupid idea. He was already hard as a stone, and now he had to restrain himself as he watched her peel out of that skin-tight thing she called a dress.
One at a time, she lowered the straps off her shoulders and slid her arms out. The black dress was so tight it didn’t puddle at her feet, but stayed in place, giving him the same glimpse of cleavage that had been driving him wild all night.
Her gaze darkened as she hooked her thumbs in the top of the dress and did a little shimmy. Way too slowly for his comfort, she wiggled and tugged the dress down her body, over her hips, and then let it pool on the floor.
“Fuck,” he hissed as he took in the sight before him. Black strapless bra, black satin covering her bare mound, thin black ribbons tied in tiny bows on each side of her hips, and sky-high black booties any ol’ lady would high-five her for wearing.
Jig’s blood heated and his breathing grew shallow just from the sight of her. He pressed the heel of his hand over his denim-trapped cock in a failed attempt to ease the ache. Izzy took a step toward him. “Bra and panties off,” he said. “Leave the fucking shoes.”
“You like my shoes?” she asked as her hands went around her back. With one quick motion, she had the bra undone and tumbling to the ground. Two full, perky tits with pebbled nipples stared at him, just waiting for his mouth.
He licked his lips, already feeling them on his tongue, and Izzy’s breath hitched. “Like what they do to your legs and ass. Those panties wet? Get them off and hold them up so I can see.”
One hand went to each of her hips, and she slowly pulled the strings at the same time, loosening the bows. By the time she held them up and Jig saw the glistening proof of her arousal, he was nearly salivating for a taste of her. But he could control himself. He’d let her play at being in charge a while longer, then take what he needed.
After tossing the soaked panties to the side, she threaded the tail of her long braid over her left shoulder and yanked off the blue rubber band securing it together. Jig’s cock twitched as he watched her work her skilled fingers through the tightly woven hair. After a few seconds, long, wavy locks of black silk flowed down her back and over her shoulder.
Her eyes held a hint of vulnerability. She could no longer hide behind the badass, controlled look she preferred. All her sharp edges had been smooth
ed over, exposing the conqueror’s feminine underbelly.
His warrior was also a queen.
Still fierce, still powerful, still formidable, yet all woman.
Now, wearing only the sexiest fucking ankle boots in history, she walked toward him like a model working the runway. Each step had the hair draped over her tits swaying and brushing across her hardened nipples. He could tell by the way her breath quickened, it was getting to her. Good. He wanted her as fucking out of her mind as she was making him.
When she was just an inch away, she grabbed the hem of his shirt and drew his shirt over his head. He let her and returned his hands to his sides when she went to work on his jeans. After a minor struggle, she had his boots, jeans, and boxer briefs lying in a pile on the floor.
From a squat at his feet, she rose to her full height, only a few inches shorter than him with those boots and whispered, “Let me do this. All the way. Do not stop me.”
Then her mouth landed on his, and he hissed out a, “yes.”
Wasn’t the plan, but who could refuse her?
She gifted him a triumphant smile and returned to his skin, licking and sucking a slow trail of brutal kisses down his torso. Each time her warm, wet mouth latched onto him, his cock twitched and wept with need. After she reached his navel, she sank to her knees then stared up at him from the floor.
Shit, he wasn’t going to last ten seconds in her hot mouth.
Izzy must have sensed his thoughts because she winked. “Don’t worry, Jig, I’ll be gentle.”
He snorted. “Don’t you dare.”
Her gaze grew needy, and she slid a hand between her legs, rubbing her clit. “I want you just as bad,” she said with a low moan.
Then her free hand wrapped around the base of his dick, and he saw stars. Precum leaked from the tip. Izzy swiped her tongue over his slit, capturing the fluid right before she sucked the head into her mouth.
“Fuck,” Jig barked out as his head slammed against the door.
“Good?” Izzy asked around his cock one second before she removed her hand and sucked him deep.
