Bruiser's Caress (Warpath MC Book 2)

by Raven Scott

  “Did he ask for it back?” She shook her head dismissively, brushing back her long, curly, blonde locks to reveal a slather of paint at the crook of her neck. It’s still wet. Tensing when I thumbed the spot, she covered it hastily. “Missed a spot. Are you a painter?”

  “I’m trying to be, but, obviously, I don’t make enough to pay the bills yet. I was working on my sister’s wedding present. She gets back in two weeks f—” Nicole cut herself off, her blush deepening as sheepishness tinged her expression. She’s obviously the type who overshares without even thinking about it, and fuck if I didn’t think it was damn near the cutest thing ever. “Um, so . . . what about you? You never told me your name. I thought that maybe I shouldn’t show up today because it’s kinda weird not to know your name and go on a date.”

  “Bruiser. And yeah, it’s my real name.” Big, blue eyes widened at my admission, and I arched a brow quizzically. “I’m Canadian.”

  “Bruiser . . .” My name rolled off her tongue huskily, and goosebumps blanketed my arms under my jacket as her voice shot straight to my cock. Nicole sucked in a breath, her breasts straining against her dress, and I clenched my hands by my sides. She noticed, eyes flickering to the bulge in my jeans before darting away, and desire crowded my lungs and heart. “Um, so . . . do you like art?”

  “I have a deep appreciation for it.” Fuck it. I closed the distance between us, and Nicole’s breath caught as I slung my arms over her shoulders to cusp the back of her head. Her eyes sucked me in, and electricity rippled just under my skin as her softness pressed against my leather jacket. “You’re a piece of artwork, Nicole.”

  “O-oh . . . th-thank you.” She was so hot, and calloused fingertips crept under my open jacket, almost as if she couldn’t help herself. “W-we should go inside . . .”

  “I will, but first, I’m gonna be real with you, Nicole. I can’t stop thinkin’ about you and your perfect ass, and I gotta ask, was that ‘mistake’ last week an invitation, or a thank you?” Bewilderment masked Nicole’s expression, and a laugh escaped her that rattled each rib on its way to my groin. She immediately covered her mouth with one hand and waved hastily with the other, and I held my breath as she shook her head.

  “It wasn’t a mistake. I did it on purpose.” Blushing at her own admission, Nicole cocked her head, and her smile made my heart thunder. “Sorry if I caused you trouble with your friends.”

  “Why would you care about them? Are you a non-confrontational people pleaser?” Nodding miserably, Nicole screwed her nose before she noticed the smile that stretched my mouth. She really is captivating. My mouth dried at the thought, and I slung my arm down around her waist to hold her firmly against me. Her eyes flashed, and I inhaled a shallow, short breath before speaking up. “So, if you’ve got some time, I wanna go home with you, Nicole.”

  Her jaw almost hit my sternum from the force of her surprise, and Nicole tinged bright red up to her ears. Hope blossomed in my chest, making it a little easier to breathe, but I tried to keep my eagerness off my face.

  “U-ehm . . . I . . . o-okay . . . did you come all . . . all the way up here just to get in my pants?”

  “No. I had to come up here for the bank, but I invited you out, hoping I’d be able to shove my face between your legs. Maybe I can get in you later,” I grinned broadly at her starstruck expression, tightening my arm around her waist. “So? Does brutal honesty get me some points?”

  “L-let’s start with coffee . . . yeah?” The same red color covered her entire face and spanned down her neck, only making me smile as I opened the door for her. Little did I know just how interesting things would be.

  Chapter Ten

  Nicole

  “So, what happened with that guy?” Popping the top off my coffee, I dumped a generous amount of sugar in it as Bruiser posed his questions. Scrunching up my face in residual embarrassment, my gut coiled in lingering mortification before I met his eyes. “He obviously proposed, and you dumped him. How long were you goin’ out?”

  “Like, ten months. My sister’s new husband decked him, then my brother and my dad dragged him out. I was horrified. I left. I got the hell outta there. Jackie’s been blowing up my phone, but I can’t talk to her yet. I’m sure I’ll have to talk to her when she gets back from her honeymoon.” He frowned under tightly knit brows, propping his elbow on the table to hold his chin and stare at me intently. “Tom’s texted me a few times asking for a second chance. Then he had the audacity to ask for the ring back. My family’s ring . . . the nerve. What about you, Bruiser? What were you doing so far up on the mountain?”

  “Ah, I had to go pick up my little cousin. He’s stayin’ with me in Margot for a bit. My uncle’s really . . . eccentric, and I guess Rook finally got sick of it.” My interest piqued, and Bruiser sat back to rub the back of his head with a little, sour chuckle. His muscles flexed his cut-off, patched up . . . jerkin’ . . . thing . . . tugging at the neckline of his shirt tantalizingly. “He’s nineteen. Bit of a shit, but who isn’t at that age?”

  “I wasn’t. My sister got all the brazenness in the family. When I was nineteen, I was in college for the arts. Just the community program to see if I liked it., Thankfully, I realized pretty quickly I didn’t wanna pay tens of thousands of dollars for something I could Google. Did you go to college?” He nodded, and my brows rose. I couldn’t see Bruiser going to a university. A trade school, maybe? “For what?”

  “Business Logistics and Analytic Consulting. I basically figure out how much money places can make or lose and how it all gets done. I graduated decently, but I burned out after a few years and decided to do something . . . a little more salacious.”

  “Salacious? What do you do now?” I had never heard someone say their job was ‘salacious’ I had never heard that word at all, actually. Taking a sip of his brew, Bruiser grunted in acknowledgment as he set his cup on the table to flex his hand. The little scars there shimmered in the light, catching my eye, and I pursed my lips thinly in concentration.

  “I gamble. I do a lot of racing, but I also go down to Vegas sometimes and play some roulette.” I could tell he was leaving some stuff out as he rubbed his knuckles absently, not realizing he was doing it. But, whatever. Bruiser must live up to his name. “Have you been to Vegas?”

  “I was for my sister’s bachelorette party last year. I was babysitting Jackie’s drunk butt the entire time, though. I was able to go to an art exposé, though, and I had a great time.” I smiled fondly at the memories flashing in my mind’s eye. The artist had specifically used bright colors like red, orange, and yellow to represent feelings like happiness. In comparison, she used purples, blues, and greens to represent sadness. Her exhibit was split into two separate areas, and in the center, it was as if the colors had been thrown on the canvas together, meeting in the middle to create something unique. Bruiser’s face was the one to perk in interest. “I always knew I wanted to be an artist, but no one really believed me until middle school when I won a school-wide competition.”

  “What happened when you won?” I took a sip of my coffee to buy myself some time as memories raced behind my eyes when I won. “Did your whole life start revolving around that win?”

  “Yeah, a bit. There are so many people that are good at art, so I knew I had to figure out a way to stand out more and be able to do a ton of different stuff. My dad and I were always closer, and Jackie and my mom were closer to each other. Dad was the one that helped me figure out other stuff and offered to pay for a semester of community college. Jackie’s a high-power person. A lawyer. What about your family?” Not bothering to be subtle, I craved more information. I wanted to know who Bruiser was, what kind of man did what he did on that mountain? Where was that man hiding under those patches and gruff, deep voice? He tilted his head slightly, eyes boring into my own as expectation flooded my system.

  “My uncle raised me. My mom was sorta white trailer trash, and there wasn’t a dad in the picture. After she got locked up, he took me in. I lived in Canada
until I was twenty-one, until I got citizenship through my dad since he’s an American citizen, then moved down here.” Questions etched into my face, and I arched a brow, urging him to continue. Bruiser rubbed his jaw and neck, darkness flashing in his eyes so fast I almost didn’t see it. But I did. “Canada’s great, but we basically lived like mole people in the boonies, and I didn’t want that for my life. Plus, it’s very difficult to ride bikes when it snows thirteen months out of the year.”

  “I can imagine. Is that your bike across the street? It’s different than the one you had on the mountain?” Throwing my thumb over my shoulder, interest lilted my tone, and Bruiser nodded firmly as pride sparkled in his eyes. “Do you collect them or something?”

  “I have three. The one I drove up the mountain is specifically built for long distance. It’s got an enlarged gas tank and better shocks, and a wider frame. That one outside is a cruiser, great for shorter distances, more comfortable, but by far, my favorite is my racer. It’s fast. I definitely put the miles on that more than the other two.” Smiling as Bruiser became visibly excited at the prospect, my chest warmed when he grinned broadly. “Part of the reason I moved here was because it’s perfect for a speedster. I also have a truck, but I only use that when I can’t use my bike.”

  “I bet the gas tank’s not the only thing that’s enlarged.” The words rolled off my tongue before I could stop them, and I bit my bottom lip hard as flames licked my cheeks. Bruiser snorted, hiding his smirk behind the rim of his cup even as his eyes scanned me intently. At least I could say we both had a solid sense of humor, and while I didn’t let him in on this before, I thoroughly enjoyed his crassness when we entered the shop earlier.

  “I bet you got better shocks.” Sinking into my chair, I covered my eyes as desire curdled my blood. Bruiser’s sultry chuckle wrapped around squeezing me, and my heart jumped into my throat when he nudged my leg under the table. “You probably ride real smooth, huh, Nicole? There’s gotta be some reason that douchebag proposed in less than a year, and he didn’t seem the type to give a fuck about your personality.”

  “And you do?” A strange sensation tingled the bridge of my nose uncomfortably as Bruiser’s jab filtered through my brain. I couldn’t tell if he was complimenting me or making a jibe, or both? His smirk widened, genuine amusement and desire swirling potent in his eyes. A fire sparked in my belly, and I held my breath in anticipation.

  “There’s nothing wrong with acting on how unbelievably sexy you are. The issues come ten months in when someone doesn’t know jack shit about you as a person.” Bruiser shot me a pointed look, and I exhaled a hot breath through my teeth when he rubbed my calf with his almost comfortingly. “Would you rather I take you on a date before we fuck?”

  “How do you even know I’m up for any of that?” Countering his question with my own, I blushed fiercely at the absolute stupid look Bruiser cast me before rolling his eyes. “W-well . . . we are on a date . . . not a fancy one, but a date nonetheless.”

  “You wore that dress hoping I’d be a gentleman?” Glancing down, I had no choice but to concede to Bruiser’s point. He reached across the small table to stroke the back of my hand, and electricity skittered up my bare arm. Goosebumps blanketed my breasts, and I bit my bottom lip hard as the atmosphere thickened. “No . . . you wore a dress ‘cause it’s easy to get railed in. You just didn’t wanna seem easy.”

  “I wore it to see how persistent you’d be, and you’re not surprising me at all, Bruiser.” I tried to withdraw my hand, but he grabbed my wrist, and Bruiser pinched the sensitive, thin skin there. Tensing as he leaned in, my heart pounded hard against my ribs, and my abdomen tightened as need rushed through my veins, effortlessly coursing through me, demanding more

  “You like it. Don’t lie. Even if it’s what you expected, you’re enjoying this right now. How often did that douchebag make you feel like fucking wasn’t a one-sided chore?” That hit me hard, square in the chest, and seriousness roughened Bruiser’s tone as he released my wrist. Grunting in triumph, he sat back heavily to nod to himself, the shadows in his eyes darkening. “You’re worth more than what’s between your legs, but getting off is pretty important, too. Don’t do yourself a disservice by denying that just because some douchebag didn’t appreciate what came out of your mouth, only what went in it.”

  Bruiser was so crass, so blunt, that it was almost uncomfortable. Surely, this wasn’t a conversation to be had at a coffee shop, even though there wasn’t anyone else here but the staff. And that’s not a bad thing, either. He didn’t dance around my input, didn’t brush me off, or act like I was a baby saying words I didn’t understand the meaning of. My mind flung back to the last time I’d had sex with Tom, and Bruiser was right. It was one-sided. It was a chore.

  Tom initiated things, but I had to work far too hard to keep it going. And when we were done, he thanked me. You don’t say ‘thanks’ for that. You compliment me, and we cuddle, and maybe, just maybe, if things were that damn good, you’d go back for round two, three, or four. God, that’s the type of relationship I deserved.

  “Tell me the truth. At the gas station, what’d you think of me?” It seemed kinda redundant to say that. Bruiser would tell the truth regardless if I explicitly asked for it. That was the kind of man he was. He flexed his hand into a fist, the slivers of scar tissue glistening under the sunlight streaming through the window.

  “I didn’t think anything of you, Nicole. Judging strangers is for people with fragile egos. After helping you down the mountain, I told myself if I saw you again, I’d take it as a sign and ask you out. Three’s too many for a coincidence, you know?”

  “I wouldn’t take you as a person that believes in fate or whatever,” Bruiser rolled his eyes at my probing, but I couldn’t deny that his explanation was flattering.

  “Fate’s a stupid concept, and the religious shit just isn’t for me, not with the things I’ve seen in this life. But I got no problem using either as an excuse because the only other option is . . .” A slippery, shit-eating grin stretched Bruiser’s cheeks as he trailed off. Pointing at me, his smirk cut through the dense atmosphere. “You must’ve stared so hard at my ass you saw my name on a debit card through my wallet and back pocket, and you’re stalking me. I know I’m not stalking you, so . . .”

  “Well, I’m not . . . stalking . . . you either.” I sputtered a little, and Bruiser threw back his head and laughed heartily. His deep, shoulder-jerking mirth rattled my teeth, and flame engulfed my face and threatened to melt my cheeks off my skull. Clamping my thighs together as need twisted my abdomen. I covered my face with a clammy palm when Bruiser shot me a playful look. “Y-you’re insufferable, Bruiser.” The only thing I failed to say was just how much I liked it.

  Chapter Eleven

  Nicole

  I gasped when Bruiser’s hard body pinned me against the wall just inside my apartment, and he gripped my shoulder to whirl me around. Hard muscles rippled against me, and I tensed when he wrapped a calloused hand around my throat. Tilting my chin up, Bruiser caught my eyes, his own narrowed and shimmering with ravenous desire.

  “Spread your legs.” Bruiser’s demand rolled down my sternum on a hot breath, and my own caught in my throat. Gulping against his palm, my need dribbled down my inner thigh, and embarrassment stained my cheeks scarlet. His eyes flashed, the lines around his mouth deepening as expectation lit up his face. “I said . . . spread your legs.”

  Tightening his hand around my neck, Bruiser brushed my jaw with his thumb, and icy prickles raced down from my shoulders. Lifting my leg, I couldn’t breathe past his grip, and his jeans scraped my sensitive skin. My knee brushed his belt before he grabbed my thigh with his free hand. He breathed down my cheek, sending a shiver to lodge between my shoulder blades. Dragging his palm leisurely up my thigh, he reached under to finger my drenched panties.

  “Ah.” Sucking in a sharp breath, I clenched my core, and Bruiser grumbled deep in his chest as he stroked my pussy through the fabric. I quaked, my
pussy lips throbbing as he closed the distance between us completely. Pinning my hips with his, he released my throat to hike up my other leg, knocking stale air from my lungs. “B-Bruiser . . .”

  “That’s right, baby . . . fucking drip that pussy juice.” I almost choked at his vulgar growl, and I shuddered as Bruiser pulled aside my panties. Hoisting me off the floor completely, he finally broke eye contact to glance around, and a light sparked in his eye. “Your living room is almost a hoard of art shit. There’s barely a path.”

  “Oh r-right . . . sorry. I didn’t tidy up.” Snapping out of the pink haze, I blushed fiercely as Bruiser smirked broadly. “It’s just the living room. I promise.”

  “Uh-huh.” Bruiser made a show of stepping through my living room, hands tight around my thighs, and I wrapped my arm around his broad shoulders. He carefully inched around the canvas protecting the hardwood, and concentration knit his brows. My face burned as he stepped over a box of paint, noticeably wincing when he knocked over a stack of thick postcards.

  “You’re so dramatic. Stop it.” His smirk widened, and I buried my face in Bruiser’s neck to take a deep, stabilizing breath. He smelled nice thick and manly and sweaty, no doubt from his ride up here. “Will you take me for a ride on your bike sometime?”

  “Take me for a ride, and we’ll see. That’s a privilege no one gets for free, baby, and I ain’t had a woman on the back of my bike, ever.” I groaned as Bruiser emerged at the lip of the hallway, and he grabbed my ass cheeks to hoist me up with a grunt. Tightening my legs around his waist, I shuddered as powerful muscles flexed against my breasts and abdomen. Kissing his warm, sun-kissed skin, I closed my eyes to savor his taste. Dropping heavily onto my bed, he leaned back insistently, and I slid down to push aside the flaps of his cut-off. “You don’t have anything, right? Are you on birth control?”