Outlaw’s Kiss

by Sophia Gray

  “The day’s coming,” Shark promised him. “Good luck, man.”

  Falcon waited until the three Reapers had ridden off on their bikes before walking over to Bridgette’s side.

  “This house isn’t yours,” she stated flatly, a flash of accusation in her vivid green eyes. “It had better not be. Because if you tell me you’ve been fifteen minutes away this whole time—“

  “It belongs to one of the guys in my MC.” Kyle took her bag from her shoulder and started moving up toward the front door.

  Bridgette followed. “The Raging Reapers. Great.”

  Falcon held the front door open for her, indicating that she should enter.

  She glanced back at him warily before stepping over the threshold into the house. Falcon followed close behind, pulling the door closed and locking it behind him.

  Bridgette made her way down the hallway slowly, inspecting every inch of the house. He didn’t know why she was looking things over so closely. It wasn’t his place.

  “You want a beer or something?” he called over his shoulder as he made his way back toward the bedroom. He tossed her bag lightly onto the queen bed and headed for the kitchen.

  Bridgette still stood stiffly in the entryway that connected to the rest of the house, looking lost and a little dazed.

  “Beer, Bridge?” he repeated.

  She snapped out of her state at that, her focus returning to him. “Hm? Oh, sure. Why not?”

  Minutes later they were both sitting at the kitchen table, sipping at their drinks in silence.

  Falcon couldn’t help but watch Bridgette closely as she swigged her beer, the way her soft lips caressed the rim before she’d take a sip. The taste he’d had of her yesterday hadn’t been enough; he wanted to feel her against his mouth again. He wanted to crush her soft body against his and lose himself in the scent of her.

  No, he told himself. He’d promised her that staying here wouldn’t be about them. It was only about her safety. He’d keep his word, and when he’d finally taken care of Martin, then he’d go back to her and court her properly. He had all the time in the world to make up for the last six years, and to show her he was right and that she still felt something for him.

  “So,” she began, finally breaking the silence, “I see you moved up in the world. No longer drinking the cheapest, shittiest beer out there.” She tapped the label on the beer bottle.

  Falcon’s lips twitched in a reflexive smile. She’d always complained about the brand he bought, claiming that if he was going to drink, he might as well enjoy it. “Yep. Now it’s the fourth cheapest and shittiest beer.”

  Bridgette stared at her beer for some time. Falcon watched her in silence, deciding to let her make the first move here.

  “So,” she said at last, “are you actually going to explain anything? Or are we just going to sit around all night?”

  Falcon sighed and ran a hand through his hair, trying to alleviate some of his exasperation. “I told you I’d answer your questions. Shit, I just thought we’d relax a minute before jumping right into things.”

  “I’ve had six years to relax. My business was torn apart today and I have no clue why. Christ, I’m scared, Kyle, and unwinding together over a beer isn’t going to fix that.”

  Falcon could see it in her eyes. She’d always been a tough woman, even when they were younger. Stubborn with thick skin and a sharp tongue. But now, after everything she’d gone through in the past day, he could start to see the cracks in the front she put up.

  She looked hurt and vulnerable in a way he’d never seen her before. And seeing her like that made his blood boil. It brought out a primal urge in him to tear limbs and break bones until she felt safe again.

  Falcon took a deep swig of his beer, draining the last dregs, then rose to get another. He was still trying to straighten his head out and figure out where to begin. How to begin.

  Part of him was imagining what it would be like to have her under him again. That would be one way to make her forget her problems, he thought briefly as he pulled another bottle from the fridge and popped the cap.

  He shook his head, trying to dispel that thought. Now was not the time. Why couldn’t he remember that? He owed her answers. He was a lot of things, an asshole and a son-of-a-bitch chief among them, but he wasn’t a liar.

  He settled back at the table. “You want to know why I left.” He stated it flatly. “I told you, it was to protect you. I swear to God I wasn’t trying, Bridgette, but I got myself into some deep shit one day.” Subconsciously he ran a hand over the raised ridge of the scar on his cheek. “I was off at my spot…you know the one, just messing around….”

  Falcon told her everything he could. About Martin, about the threats, about the drug lord’s influence. He talked unflinchingly about the torture he’d endured. He told her about how he’d only thought of her, how he’d decided after escaping that a clean break—no contact, no explanation—was the only way to be sure one of Martin’s guys didn’t connect the two of them as an item and take her to get to him. He recounted how he’d found the Raging Reapers and started running drugs with them to pick up cash.

  Falcon was halfway through his third beer when he told her he’d hated leaving her. “I started driving up once, in the middle of the night. Didn’t tell anyone where I was going or what I was doing. I was halfway up 231 when I realized how much I was risking. It had been months, no sign of Martin, no word on what he thought of my escape. But I’d be damned if I was going to chance anything with you.”

  Bridgette had listened to him in complete silence until that point, her eyes on her beer and the woodgrain patterns of the table. Something he said must have made an impression on her, because she looked up at him directly, locked eyes with him, and reached across the table to place a hand over his.

  Her touch was like warm silk. He grabbed her hand and began rubbing small, gentle circles in her flesh, relishing the smoothness of her skin. His eyes trailed up to hers, lingering for a few seconds on her breasts, which were straining against the material of her button-up shirt, before coming to rest on her face. Her lips rested gently against each other, and that gentleness seemed like an invitation to part them again. And then her eyes. He’d always found those vibrant green beauties to be intensely erotic.

  He curled his fingers tighter around her hand, imagining what it would be like right then to pull her back into his arms, lift her up onto the kitchen counter, and take her then and there.

  “But you’re back now,” she stated, pulling her hand back and drawing him out of that fantasy. “I’m guessing it has something to do with the mess in my bakery, and the creeps that have been hanging around.”

  Falcon nodded. “Martin’s looking for something, I just don’t know what. And I have no idea what it has to do with your bakery. If it had something to do with you personally, they would have taken you already. I think it’s just a coincidence. We’re going to get to the bottom of this, Bridgette. You just have to sit tight and let me do what I do best.”

  Bridgette looked like she wanted to say more. “Kyle, I don’t know…”

  Falcon couldn’t help but grin a little to himself.

  “What?” she snapped, her brow crumpling. “This is serious—“

  “I know,” he reassured her hastily. “It’s not that. It’s just that you still call me Kyle. I haven’t gone by that name for years.”

  Bridgette arched an eyebrow at him. “Oh, should I call you Falcon instead? I wouldn’t want to hurt your feelings, you know. I know how sensitive you are.”

  “That smart mouth is going to get you into trouble,” he warned her playfully. Then he added seriously, “I like it. I miss it sometimes, you know? Reminds me of a different time in my life.”

  Bridgette turned contemplative again. She bit her lower lip a little as she turned her nearly empty beer bottle between her hands. “I told you I can’t close the bakery. I’m living too close to the wire. Besides, I can’t leave that mess downstairs. It’s just asking
to become a serious health code violation. I have to go back—“

  “Christ, Bridge,” Falcon growled, slamming his hand against the table. “We’re talking about your fucking life here. You’re not risking it for a few cupcakes. And don’t worry about the mess. I asked the guys to clean it up. Now, you look me in the eye and you swear to me on your life that you’ll stay here until I say it’s safe to go back.”

  She hesitated.

  “I’m not taking no for an answer,” he warned her in a low voice.

  “Fine,” she conceded. Her green eyes flashed with irritation, but she seemed to be giving in. “I swear it. Cross my heart and hope to die. Okay?”

  Despite the barbed sarcasm in her words, he believed she was sincere. She was smart, he reasoned. She wasn’t about to put her neck or her kid’s on the line. Besides, he had enough money sacked away now. If she was behind because of this, he would be more than capable of helping her catch back up.

  He knew better than to offer that outright, though. She was too proud to accept charity, and there was no doubt in his mind that she was still too upset with him for having left—even understanding why now—to be able to accept anything from him. If she got into a bind, he could always go over her head, track down her landlord and put the money directly into his hands before she was the wiser.

  Going behind her back would piss her off to no end, but there would be nothing she could do about it. Besides, he liked her when she was pissed off and full of fire.

  Bridgette finished her beer, then leaned back in her chair. “I’m going to take a shower,” she announced, standing up. “Were you planning on making dinner, or should I try to work some magic on whatever you have lying around here?”

  “I’ve got frozen pizza.”

  She snorted. “Still a gourmet, I see.”

  “Only the best for you.”

  Falcon watched her sashay off.

  Having her back under the same roof with him, teasing him, so close that he could just reach out and touch her whenever he wanted….It felt right.

  Chapter 7

  Bridgette

  Bridgette leaned against the wall of the shower as the hot water poured over her. She was still trying to process everything Kyle had told her over the past few hours. Her head was throbbing from the effort. She’d decided a shower would give her some time away from him and a chance to put everything aside for just a few moments.

  Except her mind didn’t seem capable of breaking out of the dizzying circles it was spinning in.

  A drug deal. He’d seen a bad drug deal and had to skip town so she wouldn’t get caught up with the kingpin who was convinced Kyle knew something. It was a ridiculous story, something straight from a bad drama series. That was the kind of shit that happened in the movies, not in real life, not to people like her. Maybe the son-of-a-bitch was lying to cover up his own mistakes.

  Then again, outright lies had never been Kyle’s style. In a lot of ways he was a simple, straightforward guy. He’d never fabricated anything, never exaggerated to her—not that she could recall, at least. He wasn’t the type to brag. If he lied at all, it was a lie of omission, and usually not even that.

  Before, when he’d started down a questionable path and she’d pressed for details on what he was involved in, he’d just gone tight-lipped and refused to say a word on the matter. Her impression of the new Kyle—of Falcon—was that that part of him hadn’t changed.

  So if she did believe him, what did that mean for her feelings now? She’d let herself hate him for years. Hell, on the hardest nights when the fridge was nearly empty and her meager payday was still too far away, she’d even indulged in a few violent fantasies.

  She’d spent the better part of six years telling herself he was responsible for every bit of misery, every week of long hours and little sleep, every little thing she wanted to buy her daughter but couldn’t.

  But how could she blame him if what he’d told her was true? He’d only wanted to keep her out of Martin’s clutches. From the sound of it, it hadn’t been easy on him. She’d never doubted for a second how he felt about her until that day he disappeared. He didn’t even look at other women. Maybe it hadn’t been cold feet or a reckless impulse or what she’d always worried about most— another girl. Maybe it really had been a difficult decision that he’d made, and one that he’d suffered from as much as her.

  She rested her head against the cool tiles for a moment and closed her eyes. There was no sense in trying to come to a conclusion now, she decided. It would take time. If everything he’d told her was true and not some gigantic lie intended to scare her back into his arms, she’d see that soon enough. She’d have plenty of time to judge him, especially if he wanted her to stay with him for the next few days.

  She turned the shower off and wrapped herself in the oversized bath towel she’d found in the cupboard. The cold air against her skin raised a wake of goose pimples along her arms. She shivered and wrapped the towel more tightly around her, searching for her pajamas.

  Shit. She’d left them in her bag.

  She stepped out into the hall, trying to figure out where Kyle would have set it.

  Just as she started moving down the hall to search for her clothes, Kyle stepped out of the kitchen. When he saw her, he froze.

  She could feel his gaze lingering on her curves. The intensity of his stare coupled with the lust shining in his eyes brought a flush to her bare skin. She suddenly felt conscious of how exposed she was, of how scandalous she must look standing before him with nothing but a bath towel around her slender frame, her hair still mussed and damp from the shower.

  Not that he hadn’t seen her body before. Maybe it was that thought, bolstered by the weight of all the memories of their past encounters that caused a trickle of warm arousal to spread through her. She could feel her nipples hardening against the slightly rough texture of the towel under his gaze.

  “Fuck,” he uttered, and in the reverent tone he used, it sounded to her ears like the highest of compliments.

  “Where’d you put my bag?” she mumbled, but the words got lost in her mouth. She found her own eyes tracing the chiseled abs beneath his t-shirt, trailing down to his groin and the bulge in his jeans. She wanted to run her hands down his front and see for herself how much he’d changed in the last six years. She wanted to feel how his form had filled out.

  Kyle sauntered forward, his eyes still roving up and down her body appreciatively. “God, you’re gorgeous,” he murmured.

  She continued to stare at him, spellbound, as he leaned down to meet her mouth. She didn’t even think to fight the reflex to meet his lips. It was like letting go and giving in to gravity.

  Like the other day, Kyle kissed her with authority. He conquered her mouth, claiming it with soft, gentle strokes of his tongue, before slipping down and grazing her lower lip with the tips of his teeth.

  This time, though, she didn’t stand there like a deer in the headlights. She kissed him back, tangling her tongue with his, pushing back into his mouth to explore him, too. He tasted of smoke and beer, and something rich and musky and exquisite she couldn’t quite place.

  As they kissed, her arms wrapped up firmly around his neck, and his large hands slid down her lower back, resting on her ass. They fell into each other smoothly and effortlessly, like the whole thing had been choreographed.

  Bridgette pressed herself against the front of him, reveling in the delicious warmth and friction of their bodies coming together.

  Kyle drew back from her lips long enough to utter, “I want you.”

  She answered him by slipping her hands down to the hem of his shirt and lifting it up, letting the towel pool at her feet in the process. Kyle stripped his shirt off and froze again when he found himself face to face with her naked body, still damp from the shower.

  He brushed his hands over her breasts, hovering over them for a moment before trailing his hands lightly down her sensitive sides. She shuddered in pleasure at the sensation. His hands c
ame to rest on her hips, his fingers digging into her, and he leaned back in to catch her lips in another heady kiss.

  As they kissed, Bridgette kneaded his thick shoulders in her palms. She raked her nails down lightly over his bulging pecs, down his rock-hard abs, before reaching his belt buckle. She began working swiftly to undo it, and in seconds she was dragging his jeans down over his muscled legs, releasing his lips so she could dip down far enough.

  Kyle surprised her by catching her behind her knees and back and lifting her up, cradling her against his chest easily. He kicked out of his jeans, leaving him in just his boxers, and carried her into the bedroom where he dropped her a little carelessly onto the bed.

  Bridgette’s whole body was on fire. She could feel her desire pooling between her legs. She ached for his touch.