The Bad Boy In Cuffs

by Lexxie Couper

  I was in no rush. I loved every facet of Lucas, even that dangerous, dark, violent Lucas, and never feared him, but for now…

  Well, suffice to say, we’d fucked him away.

  “And I will never get enough of your incredible cock,” I replied, combing the wet strands of his hair hanging in his eyes back from his face. “Or your grilled cheese.”

  He grunted out a laugh. “Are you telling me right now your hunger for food outweighs your hunger for me?”

  I grinned, threading my fingers behind his neck before dropping a kiss on the end of his nose. “Yep.”

  He let out a woebegone sigh. “Another thing I need to punish you for later.”

  Kissing his nose again, I took his fingers in mind. “Deal. But after we eat. Well, after you get out of those wet clothes and then we eat. Honestly, Lucas, I don’t know what you were thinking walking into the shower like that.”

  That dark light glinted in his eyes and he yanked me hard to his body. “I was thinking I need to fuck my woman so hard she forgets life beyond the walls of this room even exists.”

  “Oh, in that case,” I brushed my lips over his, “it worked.”

  Okay. So grilled cheese could wait. There was more fucking to be done.

  Chapter 3

  We resurfaced a few hours later. In that time, Fluffy had cooked dinner.

  For the second-most intimidating person I’ve ever met, Fluffy sure knew how to cook a mean ratatouille. My horoscope that morning hadn’t told me I’d be eating dinner cooked by a Marine wearing a Kiss the Cook apron, while a puppy Doberman sat on my lap trying to steal the food off my plate. If it had, I would have done my nails.

  My life was so surreal these days.

  Sitting opposite Lucas, I watched him finishing his meal as I played with Groot’s ears. My whole body thrummed with that delicious post-sex ache. You’d think I’d be used to marathon sessions of incredible, mind-blowing sex by now. But I wasn’t. And honestly, who wants to get used to something like that? Getting used to something implies it’s become routine. There was nothing routine about what Lucas and I had, both in our sex life and every other aspect of our life.

  “Where did you learn to cook like this, Fluffy?” Lucas asked around a mouthful of food.

  “Iraq.”

  I repositioned Groot on my lap, curtailing his attempts to climb onto the table. Iraq. I knew Fluffy had returned from Iraq only a few months ago but—apart from the fact he was intimidating as all hell, an animal lover, and loyal to Lucas and Lila beyond question—I didn’t know much more about him. Like how did he know Lucas? And why the fierce loyalty?

  “Fluffy, can I ask a question?”

  He fixed me with one of his level gazes. There was a part of me that one-hundred percent believed he could move a mountain with that gaze. “As long as it’s not Why are you called Fluffy, sure.”

  “Okay, that’s waving a red flag in my face.” I grinned. “But we’ll leave that for another day.”

  He grinned in return. Damn, he was gorgeous. When he smiled, his face went from menacing handsome to make-your-panties-wet stunning. “Deal. What do you want to know?”

  I flicked a glance at Lucas, currently serving himself up a second helping of ratatouille. “How do you know Lucas? How did you meet?”

  Both men grew still. Fluffy watched Lucas, clearly waiting for something. What?

  Lucas stabbed at his plate and nodded.

  Leaning his butt against the edge of the kitchen counter, Fluffy crossed his ankles and shoved his hands in the pockets of his cargos. His eyes grew distant for a moment. A soft frown tugged at his eyebrows. “My niece fell in with a bad crowd. A real bad crowd.”

  “Trinity,” Lucas clarified.

  A big, fat, hot lump filled my throat. Oh man. The gang Lucas had once been in. The gang recognized as one of the most violent and sadistic and powerful in the country. Bad crowd was the understatement of understatements.

  “She was only sixteen. Her parents were divorcing—my sister and her husband are shit people—and Lacey…” Pain etched his face, there and gone just as quickly. “Lacey was a good girl who met a boy who promised her everything she wanted. The boy turned out to be a Trinity member. But by the time I found out, it was too late; he’d given Lacey to the gang and she was their property.”

  My gut rolled. Holy fuck. I didn’t need to ask what their property meant.

  “I went AWOL,” Fluffy went on, studying something I suspected wasn’t in the room with us. “Got back to the States and tried to find her.” Disgust twisted his lips. “And I failed. Over and over.”

  “When Trinity has something someone else wants,” Lucas said, stare locked on his plate, “they don’t let it be found.”

  “But I did find a Trinity member. Lucas.” Fluffy’s low grumble made the ball in my stomach tighten into a knot. “And I threatened to kill him if he didn’t take me to Lacey.”

  I blinked. Fluffy had threatened to kill Lucas. I had no doubt the Marine could kill Lucas, or any doubt Lucas could end Fluffy’s life. And yet, both men were still alive. “What happened?”

  Fluffy’s chuckle was wry. And at the same time full of warmth. “He brought Lacey to me. Along with the severed dicks of the two Trinity members who had been keeping her as their pet.”

  “Jesus.”

  Fluffy turned to the counter, retrieved the coffeepot from the percolator and poured himself a cup. “After I took Lacey to the hospital, after I made sure she was safe, I found Lucas again and swore I would be there for him whenever he needed me.”

  I swallowed, looking at Lucas still eating his dinner. Silent. Sneaking little bites to Francis, who—I just now noticed—was curled up at his feet. His expression was impossible to read.

  “How long ago was this?” I asked.

  “Over a year,” Fluffy answered, before taking a sip of coffee. He winced. “I make the coffee tomorrow, Ronnie. Okay?”

  I nodded, too distracted by what I was learning to take offense at Fluffy dissing my coffee-making skills. “Sure. What happened to Lacey? Is she…is she okay? Did Trinity—”

  “She’s living in the UK with my other sister.” Fluffy smiled. “She’s safe. And happy.”

  “Wow.”

  “So that,” Fluffy said, coffee mug raised to his lips, “is the story of how I met Lucas. And why I will gladly give my life to save his if the need arises.”

  “Wow,” I breathed again.

  Had I mentioned before how surreal my life was?

  Fluffy took another sip of coffee. “By the way, that also includes saving your life if the need arises, so the next time you feel like taking off without anyone knowing where you are, think again. I take my job very seriously, and while Lucas is a scary motherfucker, that won’t stop me putting you over my knee if you try something like you did this morning again. Understand?”

  Lucas laughed. Laughed. “You know, Fluff, I’m almost hoping she does, just so I can watch you do that.”

  “Hey.” I glared at him. At Fluffy. And at him again.

  He grinned at me, stabbed a forkful of ratatouille, shoved it into his mouth and—still grinning—chewed it.

  Yeah, he was a loveable son of a bitch alright.

  Finishing my own ratatouille, I couldn’t help but wonder what my parents were going to make of the situation. Me, living in an amazing beachside house, with two guys. I had no idea how long Fluffy was going to be hanging around, but I suspected he wasn’t going anywhere until Lucas felt I was safe from his old life. Completely safe.

  When would that be? In all honesty, I had no problems with the Marine living with us. Not when he cooked as well as he did. I couldn’t cook to save myself. Bake pastries and cakes? Sure. I was good at that. Well, except croissants. But cook meals? Nope. And Lucas…well, let’s just say as far as being a cook went, he was an incredible MMA fighter.

  Would Mom and Dad think I was sleeping with them both?

  My cheeks grew hot. God, I hope not. They were going to be back o
n land very soon. I’d have to start preparing myself for the inevitable conversation with them. Just not right now.

  For the moment, I was in ostrich mode when it came to them.

  At the sound of Fluffy crossing the floor to the table, I shut down the disconcerting thoughts of my parents.

  “Think you need to see this, Lucas.” Fluffy placed an iPad on the table in front of Lucas.

  Lucas scanned the screen. My stomach knotted at the way his jaw clenched. “Fuck.”

  Oh boy, that didn’t sound good. “What’s wrong?”

  He flicked me a quick smile. “Nothing.”

  “Bullshit.” I leaned across the table and moved the iPad so I could see it.

  On the screen was shaky video footage of Lucas punching Robby Walker’s father. Under the video scrolled the words Unknown man helps detain Andrew Singer.

  As I watched, the footage changed to Lucas and I walking out of the police station, Lucas glaring at the crowd, me gaping at it in stunned shock.

  “They didn’t get my good side,” Lucas muttered.

  I frowned. There was no way he was agitated because of that. In my opinion, every side of Lucas was his good side. “What’s wrong?”

  He stood, his face an unreadable mask. “Think I might go downstairs and work out for a while.”

  And with that, he left.

  I blinked.

  Fluffy dropped into his vacated chair, picked up a fork and stabbed at what was left of Lucas’s dinner.

  “What’s going on?” I asked.

  “He doesn’t like attention. Public attention. With so many skeletons in his closet, he worries what might be drawn out.”

  “But he’s dealt with the skeletons. Those two corrupt cops. And Trinity. Right?”

  Fluffy sighed.

  “Right?”

  “I think so.” Massive shoulders rose and fell. “I hope so.”

  I didn’t like the uncertainty in Fluffy’s answer. Twisting my lips in a scowl, I picked Groot up off my lap and handed him to the Marine. “Hold my dog,” I ordered.

  Fluffy took him, confusion crossing his face.

  Before he could ask what I was doing, I straightened from the table and hurried down the stairs to the lower floor.

  This level of the house was set aside entirely for honing a body to the peak of physical perfection and deadly destruction. Lucas’s personal gym took up most of the space, with two other room leading from it. One was a small shooting gallery, complete with an array of guns that would make the NRA drool, and a target-practice range. The other room was smaller still, and far more mysterious. In the center of the room was a single safe. That was it. I had no idea what was in that safe and honestly, I didn’t want to know.

  As Fluffy had said, Lucas had a lot of skeletons in his closet. I sometimes wondered if I would ever get to learn of them all. In his misguided way, I think Lucas was still trying to protect me from the man he was.

  Stupid. I loved everything about the man he was. The more I learned, the more I fell in love with him.

  Silence stretched through the area. I scanned the gym. Where was he?

  Noise from the right caught my attention and I turned, breath catching in my throat.

  Lucas watched me from a weight bench in the far corner of the room. He sat on the edge of the bench, elbows on his knees, slowly wrapping tape around the knuckles of his left hand. His shirt was gone, the corded strength of his upper body revealed. The tattoos and scars marring his skin seemed to somehow shout with rage.

  Christ, he looked emotionally wrung out.

  “I’m not someone you want to be around at the moment, babe,” he said, as he returned to strapping his knuckles. “Maybe you should watch a movie or something.”

  A hot lick of anger traced up my spine. “Hey.”

  He looked back at me.

  I shook my head. “This is not how things happen with us, Lucas. Not anymore. Talk to me.”

  “What if I fuck you instead? Will that shut you up?”

  Bastard.

  “Go for it,” I threw back. “And when we’re finished, I’m still going to be here telling you to talk to me. Telling you to stop beating yourself—”

  He stood up and the words died in my throat. His nostrils flared. His eyes narrowed. He radiated rage and contempt and danger. All of it like a thunderous storm waiting to unleash. “I never should have brought you here. Into my life.”

  “Too late for regrets, Pratt.” I crossed my arms over my chest. “I’m not going anywhere. You’re stuck with me.”

  “In that case…” He began to prowl towards me. “I’ll put you to use.”

  The pit of my stomach fluttered. It had been a long while since Lucas had directed his menace towards me. A long while. The last time, I’d been eighteen and had the nerve to tell him to put a shirt on when he’d been washing his mother’s car in their driveway.

  That day, he’d stalked towards me until I’d stupidly stumbled backward, my retreat blocked by the big oak in my parents’ front yard. Tree behind me, Lucas in front, I had nowhere to go.

  He’d stopped but an inch away, naked torso gleaming with sweat and water droplets, his tattoos a story of darkness and sin my teenage mind couldn’t begin to fathom, his heat reaching for me, taunting me, his eyes…

  “You want me to put a shirt on, Ronnie?” he’d murmured, raking his gaze over me. “Sure. Give me yours and I’ll put it on.”

  I remember gasping at his suggestion. I also remember my nipples pinching into hard points and my pussy growing wet. I’d been so scared, and so desperately turned on. Shame had flooded my cheeks, and I’d stammered out some pathetic threat to call my dad if he didn’t back off.

  He’d studied me for a long moment, his eyes full of menace, full of a promise of sexual domination and dark pleasure, and returned to washing the car. He hadn’t put a shirt on.

  That night, lying in my bed under the covers with the lights off, I’d tried not to masturbate to the look in his eyes.

  I’d tried. And I’d failed.

  And here now, so many years later, was that Lucas. That scary, menacing bad boy who made my panties wet and my heart pound.

  “Lucas.” Like all those years ago, my heart smashed hard and fast in my chest. “Please. Talk to m—”

  He snaked his arm around my waist and yanked me to his body, fisting his hand in my hair as he crushed my lips with his.

  The kiss was brutal. Angry. Savage. He held my head exactly where he wanted it to be, in the position he needed to take complete possession of my mouth. Liquid electricity shot through me, down into the pit of my core. He grabbed my ass, squeezing my cheek as he ground our groins together.

  His tongue lashed at mine, taking and demanding.

  I whimpered into the kiss, palms flat to his bare chest. A part of my body reacted to the smooth, steely strength beneath my hands; the rest of me wanted to shake some sense into him, to finally get it through to him he didn’t have to hate himself anymore.

  Tearing his mouth from mine, he tightened his fist in my hair and gazed down into my eyes. “I came down here to work the anger out of my system, babe. I warned you I wasn’t the kind of person you wanted to be around. But you insisted. So now, I’m going to work it out of my system a different way.”

  My pussy contracted. My breath caught. I was scared. Scared and turned on. And scared. Lucas fucking Pratt was here in the gym, the Lucas from our teenage years. The bad boy who’d terrified me.

  “L-Lucas…” His name left me on a shaky breath.

  His hand in my hair and on my ass tightened. His jaw bunched. His pupils dilated. For a split second hesitation flicked over his face. A split second. And then all his self-hate flowed back into his eyes, etched his face, and he let me go, staggering back a step.

  Eyes scrunching shut, he slumped, hands pressing to his knees, back bowed. “Fuck, Ronnie, I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

  I stood frozen, my throat thick.

  He crumpled to the ground, shaking
his head. “I’m sorry.”

  Something tore in my chest. I hurried to him, dropping down to the ground, and wrapping my arms around him. “It’s okay, Lucas. It’s okay.”

  He clung to me, face buried into the side of my neck, his body trembling.

  I held him, murmuring words even now I don’t remember. I kissed the top of his head. I smoothed my hands up and down his back. I had seen Lucas angry, I’d seen him scared for my life, I’d seen him deadly and dangerous, and I’d seen him playful. But I’d never seen him emotionally beaten.

  How much did he hate himself to be like this now?

  And how did I fix it?

  “I never wanted this life for you,” he mumbled against my shoulder, his arms growing tighter around me. “I never wanted you to be living in fear for your life. All I ever wanted was to see you happy.”

  “Hey.” I shifted in his arms, pressing my fingers under his chin to make him look at me. “The only time I’ve ever been in fear since the night you climbed into my bed—buck naked, I might add, and covered in blood with a bullet in your side—was the times I thought life was taking you away from me. Do you understand that?”

  His eyes shone. He sucked in a deep breath. “If I had my time again, babe,” he murmured, his voice a husky rasp, “I would never have climbed into your bed. I would have stayed away.”

  “Then thank fucking God you don’t have a time machine.”

  He frowned. “You don’t—”

  “Know what I’m saying?” I smiled. “I do. I also know why you’re down here, getting yourself ready to beat the shit out of a punching bag. Because you think, now that gorgeous face of yours has made it onto the internet and the news, someone from your past is going to track you down. And that might happened. But do you know why I’m not scared? Because I believe in you. I trust you. I love you. There is nothing you can’t conquer.”

  I paused, giving him a pointed look. “Well, except maybe thinking you’re not good enough for me, and I hate to break it to you, Lucas Pratt, but the ring on my finger says otherwise. Do you think I said yes because I was scared of you? Do you think I said yes because you gave me a puppy? I said yes to marrying you because I love you, and because you are the best thing in my life. Because you are the reason I breathe every day. Because you have made me stronger, braver, fiercer and happier than I have ever been. Because you are wonderful. And because you are mine. Do you understand?”