Hidden Heat (Brothers of Mayhem #1)

by Carla Swafford

  Dropping the man’s arm, Thorn stepped away and pulled her close to his side.

  “If you need me, I’ll be at Cass’s home.”

  That surprised her. She wanted to go home and forget the last twenty-four hours, but expected Thorn to dump her for being more trouble than she was worth. They’d found her brother, and she’d spoken with him for all the good it did her, so she really didn’t need Thorn’s help anymore. Men break up with old ladies all the time.

  “Fine. Be sure to answer when I call.” Stonewall studied Thorn for a moment before turning toward Cassidy. His gaze dropped to her breasts before he turned away.

  A sick feeling came up from her stomach at his look. He’d always given her the creeps. The man was old enough to be her father, and she didn’t want a stand-in. Her father had taught her that motorcycle dads were undependable and selfish. That some thought nothing of slapping around their kids just because they couldn’t fight back. But Stonewall’s look had nothing to do with familial interest. She shuddered.

  “No problem.” Thorn clasped her hand and tugged her toward the door.

  She glanced back at her brother. He reached for a lit joint one of the Brothers held out. For the first time, she noticed how tall he’d become in the last few months. Even the fuzz on his chin appeared thicker. He laughed at something the prospect, Twofer, said.

  How would she tell Mitch? She snuggled into Thorn’s side.

  She’d tell her foster father tomorrow.

  Once they walked outside, she noticed the sky lightening on the horizon. It was tomorrow, and she wasn’t ready to face Mitch again yet. One more day. She’d wait a little longer.

  She was such a coward.

  “What’s wrong?” Thorn stopped next to his motorcycle. He still held her hand.

  “I dread telling Mitch that I’ve failed.” She tried to pull away, but he tightened his hold.

  “Failed? You found Storm. He’s fine.”

  “I was to make sure he stayed away from the club. That was part of the deal.”

  “The boy has a mind of his own. It’s time he takes responsibility for his decisions.”

  She tilted her head back to get a better look at his eyes. “Responsibility? That’s a strange word for a Mayhem Brother to use.”

  He glared at her for a moment and then sighed. “Shut up and get on the fucking bike, old lady.”

  “That sounds more like it.” She fought back a smile. He did look fierce, but deep inside she knew he was a sweetheart. He’d already proven that. “You got your bike back. Good.” The ride on the larger bike was smoother, but the leaner one made touching him easier.

  As she rested her breasts on his back and wrapped her arms around his waist, she grinned big. He didn’t know it, but she was about to prove how much he could trust her. With the breeze in her hair, the steady vibration beneath her, and his tight butt between her thighs, she was in heaven.

  In less than an hour, they arrived at her home. Yesterday, with all the craziness, she’d felt as if they had ridden for hours before reaching the clubhouse. With all the stops, they had covered quite a few miles, but returning with no detours, she realized how little geography they covered.

  As usual, the door stuck. She kicked the bottom corner to open it wider. The smells of fried bacon and cigarette smoke that would never go away hit her in the face. She tossed her backpack on the little kitchen table next to the front door and turned to face the man behind her.

  “Thank you for the ride home.”

  On the trip back, she realized their pretend relationship had her wrapped up in the fantasy. She’d fallen for his kindness, hook, line, and sinker.

  When she’d been a teenager, she’d fallen for a bad boy who was nice to her. Turned out, he’d only wanted her because she was Easy’s daughter. He’d counted sex as a bonus. Looking back, the boy had never been there for her, especially when she needed help the most.

  Even Mitch’s compassion showed up only when Janet reminded him. Cassidy had a feeling that if it weren’t for her brother, he’d never have fostered her. He possessed little patience for “female hysterics.”

  Was she trying to find a male in her life to care for her? A replacement for her father’s love? She’d read one time in a magazine that women who made bad choices in lovers, boyfriends, and husbands, did so because they were searching for a father figure.

  She glanced over to Thorn, watching him examine the small bookcase beside the TV.

  No. He was nothing like her father. Thank goodness for that. Or was she seeing what she wanted once again?

  Considering what she would love to do with Thorn, she would be one sick puppy if she wanted to pretend he was her father. Gross.

  She shook her head, barely holding back a laugh.

  “What are you smiling about?”

  Thorn looked at her with those dark eyes of his. The man—certainly no boy—did rev her engine. But she had to let him go. He didn’t trust her. And really, what did she know about him? His family were criminals and he rode the hell out of a motorcycle. For goodness sake, he belonged to the same MC as her dad. Mitch might be an asshole, but he was right about that. She needed to stay away.

  Storm.

  Damn it. Her gut twisted with the thought of what her brother was getting into with them.

  “I’ll keep an eye on Storm for you,” Thorn said in a soft voice.

  How did he read her mind? The man needed to quit being so nice. It was difficult enough to stop wanting more.

  “Thanks. He looked wired tonight. Uh, this morning.” She blinked to hold back the tears. “Do you want breakfast? I can scramble some eggs.”

  “Sure.” Thorn looked past her. “Where’s your bedroom?”

  “What?” Had he changed his mind about having sex? No. She needed to get her mind out of the gutter. She shook her head to clear it, quickly recovering. “Last door down that way.” She pointed to a small corridor past the kitchen.

  “I’ll sleep on the floor next to the bed.”

  “You can sleep in Storm’s room. I doubt he’s coming home tonight. Better than the hard floor.”

  “Stonewall is a mistrustful son of a bitch. I wouldn’t want us surprised in a few hours by a visit.”

  “Haven’t we convinced him enough? Really, why would it matter if you have an old lady or not?”

  “The last couple months he’d been making cracks about me being a cop or gay. You playing along has helped.”

  “So I’m not the only one seeing it?”

  He looked at her from the corner of his eyes, as if he was deciding on whether or not to say something.

  “What?” She rested her hand on her hip. His being a mystery man was getting on her nerves.

  “Let’s sit and talk.” Thorn nodded to the lumpy couch beneath the wide front window.

  She knew it! She’d seen the way he looked at her, especially last night. There was no way he was gay.

  He was a cop.

  Yay!

  —

  Thorn sat next to Cass and lifted her hand to his knee, running his fingertips across the small blue veins. He’d forgotten how soft her skin felt. She had such long, sexy fingers. The same ones that had expertly grabbed his dick and stroked.

  “I need to talk to you,” he said with a huskiness betraying that his emotions were in a turmoil.

  “Well, then talk.”

  “I need your help.” From the look she gave him, he could tell her mind had gone south. He chuckled. “I’ve been thinking about how you said you think I’m a cop.”

  “Yeah.” She smiled back.

  “I thought you could give me tips. You’ve lived the life since you were born.” Why was it so hard to tell her he was a cop? Maybe there was a shred of doubt. She could say no and rat him out to Stonewall.

  “I think it wouldn’t be much different from living with a family of criminals.”

  “That hurt.” He slid his hand up her arm. He needed to quit touching her, but her big, chocolate eyes drew hi
m to her. “My parents didn’t live the life. They tried to live straight and lawful. But things didn’t work out.”

  “I had a feeling Tim and Jill were an influence of yours.”

  “Who?”

  She laughed. “Home Improvement. The old TV show. I use to watch the reruns over and over again, wishing they were my parents.”

  “Not likely.” His thumb ran across her collarbone. “I watched a lot of COPS. You know, ‘Bad boys, bad boys, whatcha going to do…’ ” The last he sang in a deep voice.

  Her smile slowly disappeared.

  “That explains a lot.”

  “I guess it does.”

  “So…” She cleared her throat. “Are you going to finally tell me the truth?”

  “First, let me ask you a question. From what I’ve seen of how you’ve tried to take your brother out of the life, you didn’t enjoy it as a kid. Even when your dad was national prez.”

  “How did you know my dad was the Skull at one time?”

  He ignored her question. “Did you? Did you enjoy the life?”

  “Hell, no. I saw my mother beaten too many times by dear old Dad. He thought nothing about taking what little money she earned and spending it on his bike or the next deal. We starved, and most of our clothes came from the local church needy bin. It wasn’t until I was ten that I even knew what my birth date was. I was fourteen when I received my first birthday present. The few Christmas presents we got before living with Janet and Mitch were left at the front door by the same church. If we got anything worthwhile, it disappeared. Storm and I knew that Dad would trade it for something he wanted. I don’t remember anything good about being part of the club.” Her face drawn and her lips pulled straight, she looked years older than twenty-one.

  She looked away. He wanted to pull her into his arms. He wanted to kiss away the tears balancing on the long lashes.

  With a sniffle she looked at the ceiling and said, “It was so hard to leave Storm at the clubhouse. I know it was for the best. I couldn’t stop him being part of that. He was so young when Dad went crazy, and Storm doesn’t remember some of the really bad times. Stonewall makes me think of my dad.” She looked him in the eyes, a plea for him to be more than what she’d ever known clear on her face. “I’d do anything to protect my brother. If you were the devil, I’d give you my soul if you promised to send Stonewall to hell. I want him away from Storm. I want the Brothers of Mayhem gone.”

  “What if I told you that I can help with that?” Part of him said to go for it, but his deeply ingrained cautious self hollered to watch for a trap. If she told Stonewall what he was, he’d be dead before nightfall.

  “About what I accuse you of?” A tone of hopefulness cracked her voice.

  He hesitated for moment. Then he decided to trust her and said, “Yes.”

  “I’ll do anything you want to see Stonewall taken down.” She stared at him for several long seconds. “So you are a cop?”

  “Yes.”

  She jumped into his arms. He fell backward with her on top. So not what he’d expected.

  “I’m so happy.” She kissed his cheeks, nose, forehead, and eyelids.

  He never imagined being turned on by such an enthusiastic display. Hell, he never expected anyone to act like that after finding out he worked undercover. She was different, he’d give her that.

  Her sweet face floated above his. Dark eyes glittered with excitement. When her gaze drifted down to his lips, he released his breath and clutched fistfuls of silky hair, bringing her lips to meet his. The line was blurred on having sex with CIs. Fuck it!

  He’d been miserable since he’d humped her silly in the early hours. Damn, he wanted to taste her again. If he didn’t sink his dick into her heat soon, he’d go mad.

  “Cass.” He pulled her head back. “Tell me that you want me. That you want me to fuck you.” His intentional use of such a crude word had to sink into her brain. He couldn’t promise her a lifetime commitment. Only his body and a few nights of shared pleasure.

  Eyelids heavy and lips swollen, she said with a husky voice, “Make love to me. Please.”

  Make love to me.

  Damn. He wanted to give in and do as she pleaded. The woman had his balls tied in a knot. He wanted her so bad, and with that voice, he almost came in his pants. She needed to understand what they had at that moment was not love, but sex. Only sex.

  Wrestling with what was for the best, he inhaled her delicious scent and growled, “Stand up and strip.” He released her hair.

  She slipped off the couch and stood. Crossing her arms, she lifted the bottom of her shirt and pulled it over her head. Then she unzipped and stepped out of her jeans as she kicked off her sneakers. Without hesitation, she unhooked her bra and pushed down her panties. When she straightened, arms at her sides, he took in all of the glorious, naked wonder of her. At the clubhouse, he’d only glanced at her, so as not to be tempted to go further. But now he checked out every curve and swell. She fascinated him.

  “Come here.” He expected her to finally protest, at his tone at the very least. Instead, she strolled over, hips swaying, to stand between his knees. The woman moved like a wet dream. His hands slid along her hips and then her waist until he cupped her breasts. She arched into his touch. When he twisted her hard nipples, she cried out, but not in pain. “Say it,” he ordered, his voice husky with need.

  “Please, Thorn. Please take me.”

  “That’s not what I told you to say.” He leaned down and kissed the bruises on one breast. Lifting his head, he ordered. “Say, ‘Thorn, please fuck me.’ ”

  “Thorn, please fuck me.” Her voice came out in a breathless whisper.

  Seeing her swollen lips form the words he wanted to hear from her, he hardened even more.

  “That’s my girl. Here.” He handed her a condom. “Put it on me.”

  Her gaze met his. Then her fingers brushed the palm of his hand as she took the small, square package. She kneeled between his knees and unbuckled his belt. Taking her time, she gradually unzipped his jeans. By the time her fingers wrapped around him, he struggled to breathe. He wanted to move his hips into her hold. He blinked when she released her grasp. She tore open the package but stopped. With a mischievous grin, she leaned over, keeping her gaze on his face, covered his dick with her mouth, and sucked. There was no way he could keep still. His back arched and he thrust forward. Just as quickly, she moved back.

  Oh, hell. He took several deep breaths. Damn. With moves like that, he’d have a heart attack before he sank into her.

  “I thought it might help slide on the condom if you were a little wet.” She proceeded to roll it down his length. The woman was an expert, and he was okay with that.

  Gently gripping her arm, he helped her onto the couch. He pushed her legs apart, then hesitated. A small strip of hair covered the area he wanted to taste again, but his dick ached for attention. Nudging her with his thigh, he opened her wider and then steadily slid into her center. Hot damn! Her little whimpers almost brought everything to a quick end.

  The areolae of her breasts were swollen, and taut nipples begged for his mouth. He leaned down and bit one hard tip. Her fingers dug into his scalp. As he continued to slap his groin into her heat, he felt a tremble race down her body. She screamed his name.

  His thrusts continued as he fought with every fiber in his being to not shout her name. The desire to proclaim her as his filled him until he bit his bottom lip to stay quiet. He lifted his face toward the ceiling and let go. Relief flowed far longer than he’d expected as he pumped into her.

  Finally, his head bowed and his arms trembled.

  Needing a little distance, he rolled to his side, but before he realized what he’d done, he hauled her against him, her ass spooned by his hips. His arms crossed over her chest, cupping a plump breast in each hand.

  One thing he did know. He planned to use up the box of condoms before he left her place.

  Chapter 11

  “So do I get paid for
this?”

  In her usual jeans and tee shirt, Cassidy stood in the doorway as Thorn sat on the edge of her bed and tied his boots. The last two days had been unbelievable. Sex at sixteen had nothing on sex at twenty-one. They’d stayed in bed each morning, even getting some sleep in between all of the fun. The man knew what he was doing. She crossed her arms to hide her wayward nipples. No need to give him a reason to crow. Though truth be told, he was entitled to bragging rights. Her gaze dropped to his groin.

  “If you don’t quit staring, we’ll never get fed.” He moved toward her until her back pressed against the hallway wall. His mouth brushed her ear. “It was great, but I’d never insult you by paying.”

  Her cheeks flushed. “I was talking about working with you. That other…” She waved her hand. “I should pay you.” She looked up, grinning big. His eyes twinkled with humor and his smile matched hers.

  Was she ever this happy before? It almost scared her. Was this how regular people felt? Was it love? She didn’t know. She took a deep breath. She would just take one day at a time. Enjoying the carefree feeling would have to be enough.

  —

  The other side of her brain reminded her that it wouldn’t last.

  His mouth covered hers, and she drifted along the sensual flood of wanting more. He tasted of toothpaste. The man had taken the time out before dressing to brush his teeth. She’d learned he actually kept a small kit in his bike’s saddlebags. He amazed her with each moment they spent together. The little courtesies like opening doors, making a mean grilled-cheese sandwich, and being sure she reached an orgasm first. The last brought heat to her cheeks.

  They jumped apart as if caught breaking the law when his cellphone buzzed. He looked into the screen and grimaced.

  “Yeah.” Then he listened to the gruff voice. She could hear Stonewall. “Sure. Trick is an asshole. Yeah. Yeah. I said yes, damn it! See you then.” He pressed on the screen, ensuring the connection was broken.

  “What was that all about?”

  He hesitated. Obviously, he wasn’t used to working with a partner.