by Rie Warren
“Gonna put it on me, sug?” She rubbed her face, so soft and smooth, against my shadowy cheek, playing with the hair at the back of my neck.
My fingers still shaking, I slid the engagement ring home. I kissed her fingertips until her hand curled around my jaw. When our kisses changed from joy and happiness to intense and hot, I slid from the chair, taking her with me.
Upstairs in our bedroom, I turned down the lights and closed the door. I crooked a finger at her. “C’mere, babe.”
Kissing her insistently—her mouth, her neck, the tops of her breasts—I touched every part of her body I slowly uncovered. I lingered on the sexy curve of her waist and suckled at her nipples until they became puffy and deep pink. Closing my lips around the swollen pearl of her clit, I licked and sucked, groaning at her taste.
Her hands in my hair urged me to my feet. Leelee shed my clothing with just as much care, murmuring when her lips brushed my tat, making my muscles tense and tighten. Her fingers whispered down to my ass and over my ribs while she settled on driving me insane with her mouth. She licked my chest and scraped her teeth across my abs. With my cock in her mouth, she found my eyes and watched every flicker of emotion, sucking me off, making me slick until I was delirious and panting.
We moved to the bed. Leelee settled below me, her body open to take me. Our mouths met, lingering when I pushed inside. Only a gasp and a moan escaped our lips. I hooked my arms beneath her shoulders as her legs slid to my waist, and we were so close nothing could part us, nothing ever would.
I rocked into her, and it was quiet except for our breaths and the sound of skin against skin. Slowly grinding inside of Leelee and pulling out, I waited until she arched against me and did it again, and again. The blankets fell from the bed, followed by the pillows. Leelee’s foot slid up and down the back of my leg, and I twisted her hair between my fingers. Slow and easy, long and deep, gliding in and grunting when I withdrew, we had all the time in the world.
Our lovemaking was aching flesh. It was long and intense. It was wet, and tight, and so very fucking right, I couldn’t stop touching Leelee, fucking her, feeling her move against me.
She came suddenly, striving up to gasp into my mouth, a silent scream I swallowed. Heat fisted my cock, slick, tight suction drawing me after her. My muscles froze and my body unraveled. Her name tore from my lips when my final thrusts soared into her and I flooded her pussy with come.
“Oh God, Josh!” Another orgasm took her with me one more time.
Released from the vise grip that had locked me into climax, I lowered over her, letting her feel all my weight, all my body. Her hands slid up and down my back while I kissed her neck, her face, her lips.
Complete, that’s what this feeling was. Finally complete and whole. I smiled, moving onto my side, sliding my legs between hers. I leaned across her to grab a blanket from the floor. With her head resting on my biceps, I went back to kissing her. Her eyes remained closed but her lips curved into a sleepy, satisfied smile.
And like that, she drifted asleep. My woman. As close to me as possible from heart to soul to body. Damn. Hallmark card again. I laughed quietly. I filtered her hair through my fingers, teasing out the snarls from my rough treatment. I didn’t want to wake her, I wanted to keep breathing her in, feeling her.
Her hand rested on my chest over the new tattoo design. The ring on her finger sparkled, with emeralds to match her eyes.
And I was no longer alone.
Keep reading for the first chapter of
Love
In The Fast Lane
Carolina Bad Boys #2
Coming in December 11, 2014
Available for preorder exclusively on Amazon:
http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00NIB9MU2
Chapter One
Potluck, Rotten Luck
I ARRIVED AT GIGI’S house on the last Sunday in August carting along my mimi, my Rottie, and a piping hot casserole dish of homemade mac ’n’ cheese. Mimi had made it. Top Chef I was not. Neither was I Queer Eye/Straight Guy material after the failure of my fake relationship with Josh at the LitLuv convention in May. I blamed our bust-up on Josh’s inability to keep his cock in his pants. He’d defected after no more than three days, switching to the other team to be with a woman he just couldn’t get out of his system—Leelee Childes, known to the reading and writing masses as Leelee Songchild.
Shee-it. I hadn’t been any better, bedding the first piece of fluff I could find right after him. Pandora had been no more than a receptacle for my erection that night in Atlanta, but she was one seriously determined, slightly freakish stalker. Even being half a country away didn’t keep her from sending me all sorts of pictures of her . . . well . . . Pandora’s box.
At least she hadn’t begged me to reenact one of the squirm-in-your-seats sex scenes from my books. That was bonus material right there.
Cut loose from my boyfriend, I was back in the game, no gay cover story to keep the chick-fans at bay. Not that it mattered. They weren’t catching me. I was about as far from relationship material as any man could get. Top romance writer I could do, but I had no frigging clue how to woo a woman anymore. Case in point, Cat Steele’s open palm to the side of my face a month ago. Now that woman, she had some spark.
My cheek still burned. She sure packed power behind her punch, I’d give her that. And screw my cheek, every time I thought about Wildcat and how she’d gone off on me at Stone’s garage, my cock fired to life. She was nothing like the revolving bed of babes I used to partake of whenever the mood hit me. That was a bad habit I’d outgrown in my late twenties.
These past few years, my octogenarian grandmother had been all the woman I could handle. Not that she needed handling, she’d have you know. With her health on the decline and me the only relation nearby to look after her, I did my best to provide for her. She’d done the same for me when no one else had cared enough, not even my parents. I kept her comfortable without letting her think she was incapable of doing for herself. One thing my mimi still had was an impish grin to go with her mean ear-pinching move if I stepped out of line or made her feel like a doddering old lady.
Gripping Mimi’s elbow, I guided her over to Gigi Stone, who was holding court just like she used to at Stone’s Auto Service back when her husband—Josh’s dad—was still around. Gigi used to call James her silver fox, but she was still the foxy one. She and Mimi hugged, Mimi’s long braid streaked with white and Gigi’s cutting edge bob pure silver. They’d both weathered age and the losses of life well, even if it showed sometimes in the sadness of their eyes. It did in all of us who’d lost someone near to our hearts.
Gigi wheeled around to me after I set the casserole on the long table overflowing with potluck fare. She took my cheeks in her hands and pulled me down for a kiss on my forehead, the same way she had since Josh brought me home with him during my first days as the new kid at Wando High. I’d been abandoned by my folks and left to be raised by my mimi. Gigi’s welcoming kiss that day had caused a thick lump in my throat. It still did, every damn time, but fourteen years later, I was better at covering up the emotions tugging at me.
Draping my arm around her shoulders, I planted a kiss on top of her head. “Hey, Gigi. Have the bozos eaten you out of house and home yet?”
I scanned the crowd of folks consisting mainly of Stone’s garage crew—old and new—and their wives, partners, and kids.
She wrangled from beneath my arm and patted her hair where I’d mussed it up. “I figured you and Joshy would take care of that. You been keepin’ each other out of trouble, now? ’Cause you know I don’t like to hear about my boys behaving badly, ’specially not when it comes secondhand from my church ladies.”
She accused me before the fact of any wrongdoing with a withering glare. She’d done the same when Josh and I had made devious, detention-bound plans during high school.
“Ain’t up to nothing, ma’am. Just writing and riding, enjoying this fine southern weather, and your fine southern charm.”
“Oh, you
always were the sweet talker. Don’t know how Joshy managed to hook that Leelee. If she ain’t a prize, I don’t know who is.”
I glanced around until I saw the pair . . . Gigi’s son and his lady love.
“Reckon I don’t wanna know what you’re ridin’, either.” She sniped with a hint of a smile.
I barked a laugh so loud, it startled a tiny baby in the arms of a woman across the table. Ray’s wife hushed and rocked the little pink infant before popping a bottle between her lips.
“And I reckon Josh won’t be getting into any more messes now Leelee’s here to stay. Besides, I was talking about riding my Jeep. The bog’s been good this summer—”
“Sssht. You can just save that mud-runnin’ nonsense for the boys. Tell me about your writing instead.” Gigi’s eyes gleamed, her cheeks tinged pink. She was hankering after a new release date.
I slipped the leather tie from my ponytail and ran my fingers through my hair. “I signed that three-book contract in June for the witches series. Beating my head over a title for it, but I’m just finishing the first edits—”
“That’s enough now, Nicky. Leave me and Miss Myra to it. We gotta catch up, and you don’t need to listen to no more woman’s stuff, you get enough of that in your books.” Gigi nudged my mimi like they were schoolgirls about to steal kisses with the boys behind the bleachers.
“But you just told me to—”
“Sonny, don’t tell me what I just told you to do. Haven’t you learned anything yet? No wonder you haven’t managed to snag the right woman.” Gigi’s impatience was evident in the cutting way she called me sonny.
“You know you’re the only woman for me, Gigi.”
“Oh, hush that now. I’m likely to get the heart palpitations. Anyway, I still remember that time you and Josh decided your first box of rubbers would be better put to use as water balloons so don’t you even try to flash that lady-killer grin at me.”
I was sent packing with a final sparkly laugh from Gigi and an in-cahoots grin from my mimi, Miss Myra. The pair of them were thicker than thieves when I sauntered away, whistling for Viper to keep up at my heels.
“They’re probably comparing notes on sex scenes from the latest New Adult releases,” I muttered as I ambled off.
They were part of the same old-dames book club that met once a week to read and discuss every single sex-riddled book under the sun, including mine. Gigi and Mimi had once convinced me to “give a talk” to the group. It was a frighteningly funny affair during which I felt like a retailer for Pure Romance. Except I wasn’t selling sex, I was selling romance . . . with a side of smut.
Far enough away from the food to give Viper free run, I let her loose and sent her in the direction of little dude-man, JJ, the kid. Might as well give Josh a few gray hairs while I was at it. He was living large with the love of his life and too smug for his own fucking good. A little scare wouldn’t hurt him none, and my dog would never hurt the kid. They’d practically grown up together, sharing dog beds, baby beds, and chewtoys during the teething stage.
That hadn’t gone down well with Josh.
Ray, Javier, Gerald, Mick, and all the other guys were in attendance, as were the old coots who shored up the checkerboards and headed up the town crier gossip outside of the garage on 17 North. Their kids, grandkids, and all the hangers-on always showed at the Stone homestead for potluck every last Sunday of the month. Directly after one’s church of choice.
I listened to the laughter, the murmurs and chatter. The sun beat down, spreading the smell of the giant white magnolia blooms with their lemony scent. Inhaling the heady fragrance, I started toward Josh who was half laughing, half telling JJ off about sharing Popsicles with Viper. Again. Ever the shit-stirrer, Gerald held out an unwrapped orange icy treat to JJ, replacing the one Viper had licked down to the wooden stick, flipping Josh off behind his back.
Yay me. I’d get to clean up bright orange dog puke tonight. No matter. The kid would have a tummy ache, Viper would have a tummy ache. Josh and I would commiserate by phone in the morning.
I watched Leelee nuzzle Josh’s neck and him smile down at her. I smiled myself when he leaned over to kiss her.
Man, he finally got it all.
I couldn’t have been happier if he truly was my brother.
I shifted my aviators with one finger to brush beneath them, ducking my head while I swallowed the emotion filling my eyes out of nowhere.
Pressing through the beer-drinking, loud-talking crowd, I drew up short when I saw the sexy, black-haired vision of my dreams. Wildcat aka Catarina goddamn Steele. She got the steel part down, all right. She’d gone off like a powder keg at me, but she was back to her cool, untouchable self today. I could see that from several yards away.
She wore a dress as befitted a lady who had recently sung her Sunday psalms. But everything about Cat screamed hellfire more than O Heavenly Father to me. The white sheath stopped above her knees, snug on her willowy frame. The lightweight cardigan hid her arms to the wrists, but neither the dress nor the sweater could cover up the goddess body beneath. Ripe curves, long legs. Fiery as fuck, cold as ice, and just waiting to be melted by passion.
The sight of her rippled an arrow-shot of heat to my groin. My jeans became snug at the crotch as I took in her slanting cheekbones and the haughty tilt of her chin, her eyes hidden once more behind mirrored shades. She was exotic, erotic, and aloof. With jet black hair pulled straight back in a neat knot, Cat sent out a siren song that sizzled all the way up my cock.
I wanted to see her hair down. I wanted to tear off her sunglasses. Goddammit, I wanted to know what color her eyes were.
Her fingers flirted into JJ’s hair when he dashed passed, her low laughter following the boy who had a whole gang of kids gunning at his heels for a game of tag.
When Cat looked up, her gaze swung to me. I didn’t shift, breath, swallow. I didn’t move. Neither did she. Take the shades off, darlin’. Mick from the garage careened past her, chasing after the kids, and our look was broken.
I was free to move on. But did I? Hell no. I stood stock still, taking in my fill of her. Cat didn’t have a problem ignoring me though, turning to crouch down and scratch Viper’s ears when my dog nuzzled against her legs.
“Got it bad, huh?” Ray asked, handing me a beer.
I snorted. “Not.”
The burly blond guy took several long gulps of his beer then swiped a hand across his moustache and mouth. “Yeah right. Listen, Nicky, you don’t wanna tangle with that.” He pointed the beer bottle at Cat, who I’d already been staring at for far too long.
“She’s pleasant enough with you.”
“’Cause I ain’t tryin’ to get into her pants.”
Unfortunately the grease monkeys—or assholes as Josh affectionately called them—were more perceptive than a room full of shrinks, and I’d had my fair share of those, too.
“Hey, I was being friendly to her that day.” I avoided his shrewd look by inspecting the label on my microbrew.
“Yeah, I don’t think the woman does the friends thing. I heard she had some trouble in her past, so you’re best leavin’ her alone. Also, if you fuck up Josh’s new partnership with Chrome and Steele, he’s gonna get all pissy again like he was after the Leelee/Atlanta fiasco.”
He had a point. Josh did excel at being a first rate dickhead when he was down in the dumps. And a woman with a troubled past was a headache I didn’t need. I had too many skeletons in my own closet. I didn’t have any room for anybody else’s.
Ray cocked his head to the side when he heard his name called. “Aw hell, the old lady’s hollerin’ for me. Probably wants me to change another one of Emma Jane’s diapers. The girl’s so goddamn tiny, man, how can she dump such a huge load? And the smell? I’d rather put up with Gerald’s BO.” He complained like any new father would, but the twinkle in his eyes and the way he stepped-to on command gave him away as a proud papa.
I strolled around, drank more beer, and shot the breeze, maintaini
ng a safe distance from Wildcat. My fingers started getting itchy when I hadn’t checked my phone for texts or emails or Facebook updates after the first hour. I didn’t always like the fact I had to run around like Viper chasing her tail on the social media loop to keep my author presence alive, but I still suffered from withdrawals from the Internet, the one addiction I allowed myself. Stone Sunday was a wifi-free zone, as anyone running the risk of Gigi’s formidable wrath found out. One good thing: it meant my con stalker-chicky couldn’t reach me via any outlet from Twitter to Facebook to G+ for at least one day.
Josh found me drumming my fingers on a table, watching Javier court danger as he hunkered over his phone, tapping away with speed.
“Watcha doin’?” Josh asked as he slung a hefty arm around my neck.
“Waiting for Javier’s imminent execution by your mom.” I peered at the black-eyed, black-haired boy. Then I knocked Josh’s arm off my shoulder, standing up straighter as Javier furiously typed on the screen of his iPhone, giggling quietly to himself. “Holy shit, he’s like—”
“Janice.”
“Yeah, man, if she was a Hispanic homosexual.”
Beer spewed out of Josh’s mouth, landing on me. Oh well, no worse than Viper’s slobber. We continued to laugh our asses off while Javier imparted two regal middle fingers in our direction without looking up. He better be careful, Gigi was liable to snap them off. A young dude with surfer blond hair approached Javier, leaning in to kiss his neck.
“So that’s his guy?” I took an appreciative look.
“Yeah, Tate.”
“How come we didn’t know about this?”
Josh shrugged. “’Cause we’re dumbasses?”
He was probably right about that.
“They make a cute couple.” I nodded over to Javier and his All American jock. “They make a better couple than you and I did anyway.”
“We sucked at that, huh? And not in the way we were supposed to.” Winking at me, Josh asked, “Which one do you think is the bottom?”
