Page 7

CHAPTER SEVEN

Pickle

“ Y eah, nope. Don’t like that idea.” Thyrie’s adamant head shake punctuates her confusing comment.

She’s so capable and independent it takes longer than it probably should for her meaning to sink in.

She’s not upset at my suggestion she could get help from one of the brothers.

She doesn’t want me to be away from her.

The past few days, I’ve been battling an internal war to keep from pulling her into my arms and making her mine.

Mark my words, I will be doing that. Just not while she’s busy watching over her charges.

Do I want to kick my ass for hiring her to watch over Frank and Teens?

Fuck, yeah, I do. She’s a consummate professional, taking their safety as seriously as though my sister is the Hope Diamond.

I knew I wanted to dick down Thyrie ’til she couldn’t walk straight even before we officially met.

But watching how thorough she is in her duty, especially considering it’s to protect my family, I can’t help but fall even harder for her.

“I don’t plan on it. Face it, you’re stuck with me, Spitfire.”

“Guess that means you can carry these upstairs for me, since that’s where I’m headed.

” She hands me the bottles of water before diving back into the industrial-size fridge.

With as many big ass men as we have around here, the thing’s always loaded to the max with everything any of us could want.

Including the lemon pudding I’d learned is Thyrie’s favorite.

“Behind the pasta salad Nolan’s got chilling for dinner tonight. I hid the bowl so Malachi would keep his hands off it,” I say.

“How’d you guess that’s what I’m looking for?” she asks over her shoulder, still shuffling around the inside of the fridge.

“I pay attention,” I state simply. Because I do.

I want to know everything about her. I want to be the one providing for her every wish, even the ones that haven’t yet fully formed in her brain.

I’ve been soaking in each detail like a plant arching into the sun’s path through a garden.

Fuck, that’s some sappy shit. Good thing I’m capable of keeping my inside thoughts inside, unlike some of the loudmouths around here.

“Ah, a voyeur,” she quips, her lush lips quirking into a smile sultry enough to have my neglected cock thickening down the leg of my jeans.

It’s been impossible to keep the unruly thing contained since I laid eyes on her.

At this point, I’m relying on tight athletic boxers and untucked shirts to keep from embarrassing myself around everyone in the house.

“For you? Without shame or denial. That a problem?” I know it’s not. She likes my eyes on her. She gets a little smile when she notices me staring and a wiggle in her hips when I’m walking down the hallway behind her.

“Ever gonna make a move, or just watch the whole time I’m here?” That’s a pout if I’ve ever seen one.

“Waiting on the green light, Spitfire. You just say the word, and I’ll show you how much watching has prepared me to please you in ways you can’t even imagine.”

“Confident. I like that. Prove it.” She lifts her chin in challenge, giving me exactly the right angle to lean in and capture her lips under mine.

Thyrie takes my kiss and meets it with her own.

Our tongues tangle, moving from the sweet recess of her mouth back into mine in a smooth dance that has blood thundering into my dick from every vein in my body.

Her hands wrap around my neck while mine go to her hips, boosting her up onto the kitchen counter.

I step between her parted knees, pressing my groin into the heated cradle where her thighs meet.

I know she can feel exactly how hard she makes me.

I want her to know. My right hand coasts along her waist, searching for the hem of her fitted T-shirt.

The need to feel her skin under my fingertips is quickly becoming as necessary as breathing.

Warm silk over toned muscle greets me as I finally wiggle under the edge of her shirt.

Thyrie arches her body into me when I skim my hand up her back to the clasp of her bra strap.

“This okay?” I tear myself away from her mouth long enough to ask for consent. If Thyrie’s not ready, I’ll slow things down and spend more time convincing her that she’s meant to be mine. Wooing her. Fuck. More sappy shit. I swear, the woman melts my brain and turns my thoughts to mush.

“Very.” She gasps, her enjoyment obvious as she presses her breasts into my chest. Tight nipples poke into the space between my pecs, her body slimmer than mine.

I’m not a big guy, my compact frame proving to be a benefit when it comes to being underestimated in fights. Opponents usually discover what I lack in size I easily make up for with sheer brutality and force.

Like recognizes like, and I can tell Thyrie’s used to being misjudged as being too delicate and small to be dangerous. She is fragile, but it’s fragile like a bomb, not a flower. It’s as much a turn on as everything else about her.

She pulls my shirt over my head and tosses it over my shoulder onto the floor.

I mirror her lead and do the same with hers.

There are other people in the house, but I couldn’t care less.

Anybody coming into the kitchen from the dining room won’t be able to see her through me.

And the tinted window above the sink means the man peeking around a tree at the fence-line can’t see inside the building.

Wait. That ain’t right. The man peeking around the tree?

That’s a problem. My body turns to stone, the realization I’ve allowed myself to become so lost in the lust between Thyrie and me that I’ve neglected my guard duties.

I’m not sure who’s out there, but it can’t have been for too long.

My Spitfire turns my brains to mush, but even in the depths of lust, there’s no way to turn off the situational awareness life has drilled into me.

“What’s wrong?” Instantly alert, Thyrie freezes to assess the danger.

It isn’t surprising she’s so in tune with me.

While I come by my violence the old-fashioned way, as its victim in my youth and its master now, Thyrie’s honed it as a craft in her adult life, first as a soldier, and now as a body for hire.

I know she’s got skills and training to match mine.

“Don’t look,” I start. He probably can’t see inside, but there’s no reason to take unnecessary risks.

“Wasn’t gonna. Detail the scene,” she interrupts. I nod in acknowledgment before dipping my head into the curve of her neck. On the chance the light behind us casts enough shadow through the window’s tint to give our position away, I don’t want to let on that he’s been spotted.

With my eyes searching the shadowy landscape beyond the porch lights, I murmur the details of what I can see into the petal soft skin below her ear.

“Stranger behind the tree closest to the garage. Can’t get a positive ID, but he’s clean shaven and wearing glasses.”

“You think it’s Mitchell?” she husks into my ear, her hand creeping to the pocket where my phone is and sliding it up between us.

“Betting so. Code’s seven-six-three-eight.” I don’t even blink at giving her the code to my phone. Shit, everything I have is already hers, even if she doesn’t know it.

I can feel her fingers moving between us to unlock the phone and open the calling app.

I lick a stripe up her neck to nibble at her earlobe and whisper the voice dial that will call Malik.

He and Rurik are upstairs working on something in their suite, and I know if I can get ahold of Malik, he’ll bring Rurik.

Those two are joined at the hip, Rurik so obsessed and Malik so needy it’s rare to see one without the other.

“Got a problem,” I grunt into the phone when Malik picks up and I explain what I’m seeing Even the seriousness of the situation can’t douse the painfully heavy throb of my cock where I’m pressed against Thyrie’s pajama pants-covered pussy.

There’s nothing in the world I want to do more than finish making her mine, but duty to family and the club can’t wait. I think Thyrie understands. Fuck, I hope she understands.