He dropped his fiery gaze and it was a relief and a disappointment at the same time. “I’ve seen plenty, Wilde. Though probably not as much as Martinez.”
“Enough with bitching about Marnz. He’s not your concern.”
“Everything here is my concern. And your Hell’s Boys had better remember that.” He put his hand on the bedroom door and opened it to leave.
“They’re fine. We’re family, like I say. No one from Raising Hellfire is going to do anything to risk Wilde’s going under.”
“If you say so.”
“I do say so.”
“Fine.”
“Fine.”
Neither of them moved and the tension coursed through Briony as if Cole’s hands were still on her body. She didn’t know what to think about the man in front of her anymore. No, that wasn’t true. She knew what her body thought of the man in front of her. It just didn’t quite fit with the DANGER KEEP OUT signs her mind kept producing. She should hate him. She did hate him. If he’d had his way Wilde’s would be having lunch with a wrecking ball. But it’s not. No, it wasn’t. It was getting a do-over on Cole’s dime. Isn’t that enough? Yes. Yes, it was plenty. She didn’t need anything else. Her ego might be hurt that he’d just used her for sex, again, but that was it. She’d enjoyed herself plenty. Time to get on with things.
Cash flow sorted, check. Hotel renovation underway, check. Hotty almost-husband happy, not so much. Let it go. She was, she would. Still, she couldn’t keep the parting barb on her tongue from slipping out. “Well, this has been all kinds of . . . whatever, but don’t expect me to welcome you back here just because you feel a need. I look out for family, but only family who look out for me. No one likes a guy who is only out for himself.” She pulled the door from his hand and nudged him over the threshold. Then, not waiting for an answer, she shut the door in his face.
Chapter Eight
Cole looked at the closed door ten inches from his face.
No one likes a guy who is only out for himself. The words echoed around the hallway. As if contact with the air solidified the words into fragments of sharp metal, each one drove into his chest and dug its painful, nasty way in.
She couldn’t have known. It had taken him a long time to realize that he needed to look out for himself if he was ever going to get his depression under control. But he’d worked on it and come out a better man. And when he had it sorted, he made sure he repaid the people who had been there for him: his pop, his company, his family. Briony couldn’t have known how deep her words cut or that he’d spent the last six years of his life trying to make it up to everyone. Looking out for everyone except himself, running the family company the way he knew his pop would’ve wanted. Making the board loads of cash. Taking crap from his righteous angel-fart-smelling brother. Finally, finally, he was doing this development just for him. Sure, it was still going to make the company loads of cash, but the green roof concept, the community gardens, that was all him, his baby.
He shook himself and took a step back from the door to try and shake the sharp words out. What did it matter what she thought? Cole turned on his heel and headed for his car. There were bigger fish to fry than Briony Wilde. Bigger fish like his pop. He took a deep breath, gritted his teeth, then made himself relax. He put a smile on his face to try and soften his voice before he punched the number into his cell and got through on the second ring.
“Ah. Cole. I was wondering when you’d call. So she told you, did she?”
“I’m sorry. I wanted to tell you about the engagement. I started to, but you told me not to do it.”
“I know,” the older man said. “You always were impatient. She seems nice though. No, that’s not right, she doesn’t seem nice at all. She seems good. Solid. Smart. I like that.”
“She’s not exactly an all-American apple-pie girl.”
“Of course she’s not. Shit, boy, if you found one of those she’d leave you within a year. You’re too much like me. And this woman is a lot like your mom.”
Cole sat back. How could his father even say that? His mother was not a lying, blackmailing . . . He shook his head. His pop didn’t know any of that, and Cole was hardly an authority on his mom. He’d never even known her.
“Look, son, it’s fine. It shouldn’t be, but it is. I figured calling her was better than sitting back and wondering about her. It’s not like I really know the girl. I only know what color she wants to paint her walls. I don’t know how much money the walls actually make. Or who her people are. You’re a shit for not telling me about it, but maybe I’m getting romantic in my old age. I forgive you. I like her. Just don’t fuck it up. This development is too big to fail. If the girl gets in the way of that, then that’s a game changer.” He hung up.
Cole drove to his office in a daze. Sitting at his desk, looking over plans, he couldn’t shake Briony’s hold on him. She was a game changer, all right. His shirt had the strands of her scent on it and every time he turned, he caught a whiff of her sultry fragrance. It was nothing like the flowery perfume of his secretary or the other women he had dated. Briony smelt like being on the road. Hints of trees, fresh air, and a splash of new engine oil. It shouldn’t have been good, but it was. So good.
And then there were her ideas. Passive thermal design? Cole sat back in his chair. What sort of biker researched environmental technologies? And then pitched them to his board so effectively? And this week, watching her talk to the builders, the men listened to her as if she were a seasoned pro, not a bartender in a biker bar. The Wilde type. Apparently. When they’d been focused on the renovation, when he’d caught a glimpse of the bright, sharp mind that she kept hidden behind her red leather shell, Cole had wanted to stroke it to life, bring out the smart woman Briony Wilde kept on lockdown with snarky words and a horde of biker protectors.
Protectors and provocateurs. The way she was with that Martinez guy had gotten to him. Damn guy was always around. The way she smiled so easily for him. The way she curled her arm through his. He didn’t like it. I don’t like sharing. No. Briony had flinched when he’d said there could be no one else while they were engaged. And there certainly hadn’t been anyone around when he’d first spent time with her in her garage. Cole shook his head. And so you bust in there and take her in the shower. Idiot.
He tore the piece of paper where he’d been doodling off his pad and looked at the fresh white surface. Picking up a pencil he began to sketch. It started out being an outline of Wilde’s, but before he knew it he’d drawn Briony in, standing at the bar like when he’d first met her. The pencil lines were sharp along the edges of the architecture, but around Briony, they softened. He detailed her hips, her arms, the wave of her hair. What are you doing? He stopped and looked down at his drawing. It was as if Briony were the light and the lines of the building were just shadows radiating out from her.
“Don’t be an idiot. She’s not your wife.” Only she had his ring on her finger. And being around her was messing with his head. He looked up and realized he’d been sitting in the dark for the better part of an hour. Time to leave. He just didn’t know if he was looking forward to getting back to Wilde’s or dreading it. It was getting easier to be there, to be sure. Most of the bikers gave him a grudging nod when he walked through, knowing, he guessed, that he was the one enabling their precious bar to continue to operate. But living with Briony so close and yet untouchable, brought home to him how messed up this whole situation was. In many ways it was good having her in his life, but when Martinez walked past, or a pack of bikers roared into the bar without realizing he was there . . . this was not his life. This noise, this hunger for danger, this disregard for the power of the black dog. Being at Wilde’s was a drain, pure and simple.
But if his subconscious was willing to draw Briony into the middle of his doodling, his body was just as willing to make her a feature of his every waking moment. He needed to calm the hell down and keep his distance.
And then it struck him. She was Wilde’s. When she tal
ked about her hotel she always said we. Or that she was doing things for them. He’d never given it much thought, but she was standing up for more than herself. The Raising Hellfire Gang really were her family. She was standing up for all the misfits that happened to scramble through her door. Misfits that didn’t fit anywhere else. And you know all about that. If it hadn’t been for his pop never giving up hope . . . Cole rubbed his eyes. He never thought he’d be comparing himself with his blackmailing fiancée, but they were a lot alike. It was no wonder she was fighting so hard to save Wilde’s and the Raising Hellfire Gang. They all accepted and supported each other.
That was what her barb about guys looking out for themselves was about. She’d pinned him as a selfish developer and why shouldn’t she? She didn’t know the first thing about his background, his family. He’d fed her tidbits about his brother and his pop, but only surface stuff. Maybe he should have come clean about his darker past. Somehow realizing that they were more alike than he was willing to accept took the sting out of her words.
Cole threw his pencil down and stood up. “You’re jealous.” Hearing the words out loud didn’t make them any less of a revelation. He wanted that kind of relationship with her.
He pulled the sketch off his pad and walked out the door. He needed to talk to Briony and clear the air. If this . . . engagement . . . was going to last a year, then they needed to set some things straight. Things like her welcoming you into her shower again? He grimaced. It sure as shit meant making sure that she didn’t welcome any bikers anywhere close to her bedroom. And more than that, it meant that they needed to talk properly about whatever it was that was brewing between them.
As he walked up to the hotel later, the first thing he saw through the window was Briony leaning over her plans, her head tipped to the side, her hand holding up her hair, a pen in her mouth. Standing beside the desk light she’d pulled over to the table, she was backlit and her skin glowed. Damn, but she was beautiful when she wasn’t telling him to back the hell off. He watched her a while, enjoying the rare moment of unfettered observation. She threw you out of her room earlier. What you should be doing is backing. The. Hell. Away.
Never was very good at doing the right thing. He pushed through the doors just in time to see Briony’s back as she headed into the bar. Cole started to follow her but he noticed a mess of papers on her desk, so he walked into her office and leaned over her plans to see what she had been doing.
“Holy crap.”
Rather than the standard line drawings of the hotel she’d shown him earlier, these were hand-drawn sketches. Cole pulled what he’d drawn out earlier and laid it next to hers. The styles were different—his were more linear, and hers were done with ink, the edges blurred to give form, life, and dimension—but the subject matter was remarkably similar. The bar curved like a living thing down the side of the room, and supports, drawn in her hand like tree branches, made the whole thing seem like it grew out of the floor toward the ceiling.
“You weren’t supposed to see those.”
He turned and folded his drawing before she saw it. “Why not?”
She shrugged. “It was a sketch I did for your pop. Don’t freak out, he called and asked me to. Nothing more, nothing less. They’re not architectural. Don’t want you to think I’m wasting your time.”
“You think I would think that?”
“You’ve made it pretty clear how busy you are, and that I’m a pain in your butt, but it won’t be for long. Once this place is renovated you’ll hardly have to see me.”
He shook his head as he realized he’d been right. She thought he was as bad as all the other developers out there. Did she not remember how excited she’d been about the green space in his development? And what had happened between them only hours ago? “I’m not that guy.”
She shuffled the papers together. “Which guy is that? The one who was going to smash this place to the ground before I stopped him? Who was willing to let me end up homeless till I bullied you into renovating this?” She waved a hand around the room.
“The one who you invited into your shower, who you pleaded with not to stop.”
Was that a blush?
“That was a mistake.” She picked up her pen.
“The first time was a mistake. The second time was . . . something else,” he said and took a step closer to her.
The end of the pen had made it into her mouth and Cole watched her bite down hard. Watching her lips around it made Cole forget the mess the woman in front of him had landed him in. Made him forget everything. He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “We’re more alike than you realize,” he murmured.
She laughed and jerked her head back, but looking up at him through her eyelashes, her voice was more playful than pissed off. “You and me? Night and day, buddy.”
He pulled out his drawing and spread it out next to hers. “Not night and day. More like pen and ink.”
He watched her nostrils flare as she registered the similarity just as he had. “You copied my drawings? You’re quick.”
“I hadn’t seen yours. I did mine this afternoon, in my office.”
She looked up at him and then back at the drawings. He watched her features soften as she traced the outline of her form in the center of his page. Her face turned up to his, confusion worrying her forehead.
“Like I said, we’re more alike than you realize.” He pointed at the two sets of drawings. “It seems you have a talent for getting under my skin.”
She looked down again. “Is that how you see me? Soft like that?”
He followed her gaze. “When you shed your leather shell.”
She pursed her lips. “The leather is a part of who I am. The Raising Hellfire boys are—”
He raised a hand to stop her. “Family. I get it. As long as that’s all they are.”
Finally she smiled. “Don’t tell me you’re worried about a bit of competition.”
“No. Not worried. Just making sure you understand exactly what being engaged to me means.” And with that he closed the gap between them and took her face in his hands.
“So if the second time was something else, does that mean the third time is the charm?” she said and splayed her hands over his chest.
“Maybe,” he said before he tipped her chin and captured her lips with his.
Better. He released her chin and let his hands stray down her body, pulling her closer, enjoying the feeling of her soft form against his. She responded eagerly, opening her mouth to give him entry and, there, she tipped her pelvis, bringing it closer. Ready. Willing.
Darting his tongue with hers, he relished the taste of her and when she gave a small whimper at the base of her throat, he tangled a hand in her hair at the back of her head and pulled her back to open her even further. Spreading the fingers of his other hand, he raked them up her body, letting his thumb caress the swelling underside of her breast through her leather waistcoat. “I think you should shed that leather skin of yours,” he muttered in her ear and flicked open the three buttons at its front. She made no move to stop him and he smoothed her soft T-shirt with his open palm, relishing the warmth of her skin through the thin fabric.
“I should take you right now,” he said through clenched teeth. “Show you just what things could be like if you let me in a little.”
She gasped as he pinched her pebbled nipple between his thumb and forefinger and she grabbed at his hand. “I think you’re forgetting yourself there, Slick. Let you in? You’re the one who’s always running away.” Briony looked him dead in the eye and took his whole index finger in her mouth, her tongue doing wicked things to its length.
Dear. God. His cock pushed at the front of his pants. “Don’t start anything you can’t finish, Wilde,” he growled.
“I don’t seem to remember not finishing being something we had trouble with.” She released his finger and leaned in to give him a kiss that had his cock not just pushing, but pulsing uncomfortably against the seam of his pants.
&
nbsp; He caught her wrists and brought them up to his lips. “Not like this,” he said simply, and tugged her over to the chaise longue in the corner. Pushing her down on it, he opened her leather waistcoat and for once, she didn’t resist. Didn’t even open her mouth. “We work together better than seems possible,” he said. “If we let ourselves go, be pen and ink, without the complications, think about what we could make happen.” He saw it then, the change in her eyes. As if she understood, finally, that their connection was bigger than either of them. That meeting her, working with her, growing his development with her, was teaching him things about himself he didn’t even know he had left to learn.
Then he covered her mouth with his and let himself fall into her. With their clothes peeled away there was nothing to distinguish them from any other pair of lovers. He was not a multimillion-dollar developer, and she was not the hard-nosed head of a biker bar. They were man and woman, lovers. Loved.
She opened her legs for him as if she, too, was ready to fall apart. As if seeing their drawings side by side had shown her, too, just how much in common they had, and how much they could build together. When he entered her it wasn’t to shake her foundations or to make her beg. It was to join with her, to let himself go, for the first time, completely. They fit so well together he had to hold himself back from letting go too early. Instead he focused on her. Her lips, her breasts, her neck, her heat. Their kisses rolled through him, and he was so exposed that his skin felt like it would shed itself. They slipped into an easy rhythm together, her breath mingling with his, both of them with their eyes open, watching.
They fit. Perfectly. As if the revelation were painted on the air around him he realized this changed everything. Then, “Oh, yes, now,” she managed as she arched her back and he gripped her butt, pulling her closer to grind out every millimeter of pleasure. As she started clamping around him, sensation exploded over every inch of his body. Stars caught his vision as he spiraled up into the darkness of his climax. Stars, light, pleasure, perfection.
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