Page 19

“Don’t,” I demanded.

He lifted up, looking down at me with wild eyes.

“Sure?”

“Yes.” I’d never been surer of anything in my entire freaking life.

The thread snapped.

And then he was fucking me.

Hard and deep.

The bed creaked in objection, but the sound was quickly muffled by my cries and his groans as we moved together, as we drove relentlessly toward that cliff.

Then we both fell, crashed, shattered together.

Coast’s body came down hard on mine as my own continued to shake as the pleasure seemed to pump through my very veins.

I sucked in a greedy breath when the climax finally loosened its grip on me, and I could feel the way Coast’s lips curved into a smile against my neck at the sound.

I couldn’t even fault the guy.

He’d earned that smile.

I clung to him afterward. For just a moment, I wasn’t going to worry about being too needy, about what Coast might be thinking.

There would be time for thinking—and over thinking—later.

Right then, I just wanted to feel.

Eventually, Coast threw his weight back, but he took me with him until we were both lying on our sides.

Some part of me expected him to pull away then, to get some distance, to say he was too hot, that he had things to do, that he couldn’t waste time cuddling in bed.

Old conversations.

Old traumas.

But Coast’s arm went lazily around me, keeping me close, trusting that the air conditioning would cool us eventually.

“Do all these have meanings?” I asked, my finger tracing over one of his tattoos.

“Figure all of ‘em do. Some just might not have deep ones.”

“What’s this one then?” I asked, finger moving around the outline of a big blue diamond, then over the word Lucky above it.

“Lost a bet,” he said, shooting me a smirk when I looked at him. “It’s ironic.”

I figured the one that featured a skull half-drowned in a whiskey glass—with a lemon garnish—was pretty self-explanatory as well.

“Is this the year you were born?” I asked.

Coast’s brows pinched, and he leaned over to look at what I was glancing at.

“How the fuck old do you think I am?” he asked, chuckling. “No, that was when I turned eighteen.”

“Right. Math isn’t my strong suit,” I admitted.

“You were about to give me a complex,” he said, shooting me an easy smile.

My fingers drifted over an eight ball with flames to locate those fifteen arrows again.

“What about these?” I asked, not noticing how tense Coast had gone at first. Until his fingers laced through mine and pulled my hand away. “Think that’s enough of a tattoo tour for today.” Then, feeling me tense in response, he softened it by adding, “Gotta leave some questions for the next time.”

The next time.

God, I wanted there to be one.

I wanted there to be dozens of next times. Even if the logical part of my mind knew that we should probably just call it quits at the one. No matter how much that made my heart feel like it was deflating in my chest.

“Keep my spot warm for me,” he said, untangling himself from me. “I’ll be right back.”

With that, he hopped off the bed, yanking to pull his jeans up to cover himself before making his way to the bathroom.

It was kind of cute how he wanted to protect Lainey’s innocence, even though she had no idea what body parts even were yet.

The playard pushed back into the room so he could move into the bathroom.

He came back a moment later, pants on, shirt still off, and reached for my ankles, then dragged me to the end of the bed.

A laugh bubbled up and escaped as he pulled me to my feet.

“Go pee,” he demanded, patting my ass. “Can’t have you getting a UTI.”

With that, he flopped back down on the bed as I walked toward the bathroom, a strange, bemused smile on my face.

Because, I mean, I wasn’t used to a man even caring about my emotional needs after sex, let alone the health of my, you know, system.

Therein, I decided as I washed my hands, was the root of Coast’s charm. The realness of it.

He wasn’t full of flowery words, flattery, or promises he had no intentions of keeping.

He just… cared. In a very normal, human way.

“Wait. Hold up,” he called as I opened the bathroom door. “Let me get into position,” he added, piling the pillows, then resting against them, lacing his fingers together to rest on his stomach. “Alright. Proceed.”

Another laugh escaped me as I moved out.

If there was one thing about a lifetime in a skintight leotard taught you, it was comfort in your own skin. So there were no stirrings of insecurity as I moved out. And even if there were, they would have been squashed at the look of pure appreciation on Coast’s face as I walked toward him.

“You put ‘em on, I’m just gonna take ‘em right back off,” he warned when he saw my gaze go to my clothes piled on the floor.

Unlike him, I had no hangups about being naked around Lainey. She came out of me for goodness’ sakes. And she’d interrupted far too many showers to feel weird about it.

So I just climbed up on the bed next to Coast, but was careful not to touch him too much.

Which he promptly showed me he didn’t like when his arm curled around me and hauled me unceremoniously against his chest.

“Better,” he said, making my lips curve up.

“I wasn’t expecting you to come back,” I said.

“I was trying not to.”

“Why?”

“Because the last fucking thing you need in your lives is someone as fucked as me.”

“You’ve literally been the kindest person I’ve ever met.”

“Then the bar is in hell, baby.”

“Oh, come on,” I said, angling my head up to look at him. “I didn’t have you pegged for insecure.”

“Not insecure. Just giving it to you straight.”

“Give it to me… straighter then. Because I’m not following.”

“I’m a biker.”

“So? Plenty of people ride bikes.”

“No, Zo. I’m a biker. A one-percenter. Do you know what that means?”

“No.”

“No,” he agreed, shooting me a warm smile. “Can’t imagine a ballerina has much need to learn about bike clubs. The saying is that ninety-nine percent of bike clubs are just fun, law-abiding groups of men who like motorcycles.”

Ninety-nine percent were law-abiding.

And he was a one-percenter.

“I think a part of me kind of knew that the club was, I don’t know, up to something.” Especially with the casual way he carried that gun in the alley.

“We sell guns, Zo,” he said. “Illegally.”

“Oh,” I said. “Huh.”

“That’s all you got?” he asked, reaching to tuck my hair behind my ear.

“Did you expect outrage?”

“Maybe fear.”

“I’m not sure I could be afraid of you.”

“Think that’s because you don’t know me. Not really.”

“I lived with you for a few days. You wiped away my sweat and woke me up for my meds. You took care of my baby when I couldn’t. You spoiled her with toys and swings.”

“Think we’re both mature enough to know that even bad guys have a good side. A lot of dictators and mass murderers and cartel bosses… they got families. Wives. Kids. People who love ‘em.”

“Would you hurt me? Hurt Lainey?”

“Fuck no.”

“Then I still don’t know what I’m supposed to be afraid of here.”

“You asked me about the wrong tattoos,” he said, reaching down for my hand.

“What?”

“Ask me about these,” he said, putting my hand to trace the tally marks that moved up his neck and the very edge of his face.

There was a sinking sensation in my stomach at the darkness in his voice, in the faraway look in his eyes.

“Are these people you’ve put in the hospital?” I asked, knowing. I already knew the answer.

“People I’ve put in the ground.”

He folded up and moved away, making me face-plant into the mattress before I could catch myself.

He whipped on his shirt and stabbed his feet into his shoes before making his way to the door.

“Coast,” I called, making him freeze, his hand on the knob.

“Yeah?”

“I’m still not afraid of you.”

His dark gaze flicked to mine.

“Then you need to be more careful. If not for yourself, then for Lil’ Bit,” he said, nodding toward the crib.

With that, he was gone.

The sound of the door closing made a crack move across my heart.

As if having a similar pang, Lainey whimpered in her crib.

I climbed off the bed, slipping into my panties and the top, but not bothering with the buttons before scooping up my baby.

“I know,” I said, looking down at her outraged face. “He’s a bad guy,” I told her. “But I think he might be a really, really good man.”

But he was gone.

And the two of us were just going to have to accept that.