Page 14

Chapter fourteen

I’m a boneless mess in his arms as he carries me to the bathroom. I don’t think my legs would hold me up on their own at this point. They’re still twitching occasionally as I come down from the post-orgasmic high Steel always leaves behind. The bite mark between my neck and shoulder throb in time with my pulse, but it’s a delicious pain that will remind me of this time together. Steel runs so hot and cold all the damn time that I don’t know when or if this will happen again, so dealing with the little bit of pain from our sex is the price I’m willing to pay just to have that piece of him.

I scowl at my thoughts. He’s already turning me into the same pathetic mess as last time. That’s the one thing I promised myself I’d never be again.

He sets me down on the toilet so he can get the water going, and my back straightens. He wanted to leave a few minutes ago, but Steel won’t allow himself until he makes sure to take care of me. It’s a huge inconvenience in times like this because all we both want is for him to be gone. After the last time we were together, I want a relationship between us about as bad as he does. This part, the sex, has never been an issue. Steel and I have amazing chemistry. It’s the one thing that held him to me for so long. It had always been more for me, though I thought there was a time it was for him too, but then Heather got pregnant and it just became a toxic mess that left me brokenhearted in the end and left him with his little family.

Neither of us say much as he guides me into the shower and starts washing me up. I think we both realize there was something different about our coming together this time and neither of us know how to process it.

The honest truth is that I don’t think either of us know what we want from the other. One minute, he’s claiming me, saying I’m his, and then he’s pulling his cold bullshit and pulls away like what we have is nothing. As for me, I think if I had some reassurance that he wouldn’t fucking break me like he did before, if I knew he was in this all the way with me, I’d be more inclined to open myself up, heart and soul. The love I had for him is still there in my heart, strumming through my veins like a song written to call out for his own. I just had to shove it down after I made him leave the last time, otherwise, I’d have been a broken mess on my apartment floor and never been able to get up again.

Once he has me washed up, I grab the bodywash and look down at it with a smile before peering back up at him. “You’re going to smell like mint and vanilla.”

“Comfortable with my masculinity, babe,” he says, leaning his head under the spray to wet his hair and face.

As I’m washing his hair, he brings up the note that was left with Brooke. “Reva said I need to talk to you about the message. Said you freaked. What was on the note?”

My fingers pause before I lean his head back so I can rinse the shampoo from his hair. “Peek-a-boo, I see you. That’s what it said.”

“What’s your take? Connected to you?”

“That was my first thought,” I reply, scrubbing the bodywash into his beard.

“Don’t have a way to know for sure. Could be connected to the club. Much as I fuckin’ hate it, gonna have to keep an eye on shit until we know more.”

Steel climbs from the shower and grabs two fluffy black towels that are folded on the shelf above the toilet, quickly drying himself off with one before wrapping it around his waist. Then he holds the other out for me, and I step into it after shutting the water off.

After he wraps the towel around me, he guides me to the toilet seat and grabs the first aid kit from the cabinet. Silence fills the bathroom as he tends to the wound on my leg, and I stare down at his damp hair, my fingers itching to brush through it. For a big man, his hands are gentle as he applies the antibiotic ointment and bandage, and it’s in direct contrast to the rough sex we just had.

He moves my wet hair to the side so he can get to the bite mark on my shoulder, rubbing some ointment on it but leaving it bandage-free. The way he caresses the skin has me biting my lip. because it’s as if he’s fascinated with the mark he’s left behind.

I suppose I can understand the fascination. While we’ve been rough all the other times before and he’s left marks, none of them were such a blatantly visible claim of ownership as this one.

If only I knew the meaning behind it and his feelings on it.

“Goin’ to scar,” he mutters.

“Not going to be the first one, bossman. Stop worrying about it.”

Steel brushes his thumb over the bite mark a few more times before pulling away and cleaning up the supplies. “Put this shit on it for the next few days.”

I bite my lip, trying to hold in my laugh, because he’s fucking cute trying to explain how to take care of a wound like I haven’t just been taking care of a freaking gunshot wound for the last week. “Got it, bossman.”

He shoots me a snarl and spins on his feet to march out of the bathroom, and I’m unable to hold in the giggle as his towel slips off his ass, causing him to release a growl of frustration.

Grabbing the Tylenol from the cabinet, I shake a couple into my hand and toss them into my mouth, cupping my hand under the faucet, running some water into it, and bringing it to my mouth to wash the tablets down. “You know,” I say, shutting the cabinet door and hobbling into the living room after him, “you’re awfully grumpy for someone who just got laid.”

I try not to let the fact that he’s already almost dressed bother me. It’s not like I expected him to stay. He rarely ever did unless we were having one of our weekends together.

Same shit, different day, it seems.

“Need to get Lyric,” he says, sliding his boots onto his feet.

Since I’m feeling a tad bit vulnerable now, I leave the towel wrapped around myself as I slide a clean pair of panties up my hips and a t-shirt over my head, then I pull the towel out from under them.

It’s probably not the best idea to be wearing a shirt an ex-fuck buddy left behind around someone like Steel, but right now, I’m feeling petty enough to want to spite him. Hell, it’s not like he’s going to give a shit anyway.

He still hasn’t put his shirt on yet, so I let my eyes drift over him, soaking him in and savoring the sight because there’s no telling when I’ll get to see him like this again.

A loud growl reverberates around the living room, and my eyes jerk to his. Those bright emerald eyes of his spark with anger. A flush settles high on his cheek bones, barely visible beneath his beard, and his fists clench and unclench as he stares at what I’m wearing.

“Take it off.”

“What?” I ask, my voice trembling, whether in excitement or in fear, I have no damn clue.

“Take it the fuck off,” he growls slowly, straightening from where he was perched against the couch.

Okay, so maybe he does give a shit.

Play stupid games, win stupid prizes, Bailee.

Why the heck did I think it would be a good idea to do something so stupid?

“It’s just a shirt. What in the world is wrong with you?”

Sure, just keep adding to it, Bails. Really smart.

He closes the distance between us so fast, I don’t have time to do anything but stand there wide-eyed as he reaches out and grabs hold of the collar of the t-shirt. The muscles in his arms strain as he grips it in both hands and yanks harshly, the sound of the material tearing loud in the quiet room.

Goosebumps dance along my skin at the primitive move, and my nipples pebble once the cool air brushes against them. Then he makes a necklace around my throat with his hand so his thumb rests on one jawline and his index finger rests on the other.

Steel leans down until his nose brushes against mine. As I stare deep into his eyes, I swear I can see the flames of hell burning behind them.

“You’re mine,” he whispers. “Don’t wear another fuckin’ man’s clothes. Don’t give a damn where we are, I see them on you, goin’ to rip them off and shred them to pieces.”

The possessive menace in his voice shocks me as much as it delights me. It’s not something he’s ever shown before, and while I know it’s not smart, I absolutely freaking love it. It means he finally sees me as something more than someone to just stick his dick in.

Still . . .

“You don’t own me, Steel. I wear what I want. It’s just clothes.”

He tightens his fingers and pulls me closer. “Stop playin’, baby girl. Both know I own you,” he purrs. “Own this body.” He trails his other hand from the mark on my shoulder down to the middle of my chest where my heart sits. “Own this heart.” He moves farther south, flicking my nipples as he goes, eliciting a groan from me. Then he slides his fingers into my panties, straight through my slit and deep into my pussy. “Own this cunt.”

I wrap my arms around him and dig my nails into his back, my eyes going hazy when they break skin and pull a deep hiss from him.

Steel fucks me with his fingers until I’m crying out and coming all over them as if he’s got a point to prove. I suppose in his mind, he does.

He pulls them out and slides them into his mouth, groaning as he licks them clean.

My arms drop from around him as my body trembles, and my mind is still in the orgasm fog when Steel reaches out and grabs one of the ripped sides of the shirt and wipes his fingers dry on it. Then he pulls the tattered material off me, tossing it onto the floor.

Lifting my brow, I watch in amusement to see what he does next.

It really doesn’t surprise me that he grabs the t-shirt he wore over here from where he’d tossed it on the couch and pulls it over my head.

I crinkle my nose when I feel the slight damp spot on it from earlier, but he speaks before I can open my mouth to protest.

“From now on, only man’s shit you wear is mine. Hear me?”

Christ. That freaking growl in his tone has me growing slick between my legs again.

Everything about this man is a hit of ecstasy straight to my brain.

“I hear you, bossman,” I murmur, lifting to my toes and placing my lips against his jawline.

He gives a sharp nod before turning to grab his cut.

“Oh, shit,” I whisper when I get a look at the nail and scratch marks on his back.

“What?” he asks.

I wince. “I kind of left marks on your back. I’m sorry. It wasn’t intentional, I promise. They’re bad, but don’t look like they’re bleeding or anything.”

Steel shrugs and slides his cut over his shoulders. “Left marks on you too, baby girl.”

Is there anything sexier than your bearded biker wearing his leather cut for his motorcycle club with his bare, tattooed chest on display underneath it?

Not for me, there isn’t.

My fingers tingle with the need to capture him on camera.

Damn, I miss being behind the lens already.

“Is Lyric with Heather?” I ask quietly, following him to the door.

Steel nods. “Supposed to get her tomorrow. Want to get home so I can say goodnight to her, though. Rather have my girl at my place.”

Warmth steals through me at seeing the fatherly side of him. It’s not one he’s shown me very often because it’s a part of himself that he kept separate when we were together. Steel did everything he could to keep his two worlds from colliding. Now, because of me, they’re closer than ever to crashing together, and I think it terrifies him.

I lift my hand, curling my fingers around his jawline. “You’re a great dad, Jericho. Lyric is one lucky little girl.”

The only reply I get to that is a grunt, and it’s so typical of Steel that I just give him a soft smile. I move my hand to his beard and use it to gently pull his face down to meet mine. Knowing he’s impatient to get to his daughter, I keep the kiss short, simple, and sweet, yet still make sure it packs enough punch to leave enough of a lasting impression that he’ll be thinking of me after he’s gone.

“Be careful going home, bossman. I’d really hate not to see this pretty face again.”

“Door locked when you’re down here. Don’t answer for anyone except me or Reva. Keep your eyes peeled when you’re on the floor. Anything suspicious, make note of it and let me know. You feel unsafe, call me. You feel something’s not right, you fuckin’ call me.”

“I’ll be as safe as I can.”

He grabs me by the back of my neck and pulls me to him. His other hand slides under my shirt to grab a handful of my ass as he settles his mouth over my lips, quickly shoving his tongue inside to dance with mine.

All too soon, he’s pulling away, smacking me on the ass, and walking out the door with a muttered, “Later, baby girl.”

Blowing out a deep breath, I scrub my hands over my face and then lock up behind him as I go over our time together, starting from the moment he stalked inside. My mind locks onto the way he reacted when I tried to undo his jeans, and my brows furrow as I try to figure out what about it doesn’t sit right with me.

Maybe I’m just reading too much into it. He could have just been in a hurry to fuck me. That’s the way it seemed, but that theory doesn’t sit right in my gut. No, there was something else behind it. I just don’t know what. Then I remember the first night he came to me and the fact that he was in the middle of fucking a club girl. Is that what caused his reaction? Did he not want me to touch him because one of them already had?

Just the thought has my stomach rolling as bitterness fills the back of my throat.

Nope, I’m not doing this. I am not freaking driving myself crazy like I used to, wondering what he’s doing, who he’s doing. I refuse to let myself go down that dark road. The darkness nearly pulled me under the last time we were in whatever fucked-up relationship we had, and that’s one place I can’t allow myself to go again.

I smack the light switch, snapping off the light in the living room. “Stupid sexy biker, coming in with his stupid sexy body, and shoving his stupid sexy dick in my stupid hussy of a vagina,” I mutter as I shuffle over to the fridge to grab a bottle of water. “It’s no wonder I’m all freaking dick-stupid.”

Exhaustion weighs on me as I reach the bedroom, but I want to check in with Reed before I fall asleep to see if they’ve had luck in finding anything on the Night Skulls. Steel is keeping stuff close, and it’s frustrating because I’m the one they’re trying to freaking unalive, yet I don’t know about anything he’s found. At least with my brother, I have a chance of not being kept in the dark and can prepare myself. I know I came to Steel for protection, but I also need to have the information to protect myself when he’s not around.

The damp spot on the shirt grosses me out each time it brushes against my skin, so while I wait for Reed to pick up, I grab a clean t-shirt from my drawer. It’s another one of Steel’s that I kept from our last foray into a semi-relationship.

“You good, Bails?” Reed asks when he answers my call.

“Yeah. Just tired. Have you all found anything yet?”

He sighs, and the familiar sound of him pouring bourbon into a glass passes over the line. “Not much. Hell, less than not much actually. Colby’s working her ass off too. What about you all?”

As much as I want to tell him about Brooke and the note, I keep quiet since we’re not sure whether it’s connected to me and the Night Skulls or if it has to do with whatever the Dirty Mavericks have going on. Reed will have mine and Steel’s ass if he finds out from someone else or some other way later.

We talk about the few small things that Steel has told me about Killer and the Night Skulls, hoping that maybe something will give Emmy Lou, Willow, or Colby another direction to go in. He fills me in on how Mom, Jedreck, and Macey are. It’s still weird but also sort of wonderful talking about our baby sister.

“Stay safe. Love you, brat,” Reed says softly.

“You all too. These guys are no joke. Love you too, nugget.”

I end the call on his growl of displeasure at the nickname I’ve called him for as long as I can remember. Can’t really blame him. I remember him trying corn nuggets for the first time when we were out somewhere. It was this little off-the-wall place we were trying out because we got tired of the highbrow places Mom and Dad were always making us go to. The cook had sort of overcooked them, and they resembled something you’d find in a litter box. My brother, being the manly man he feels he has to prove himself to be, tried to overlook the visual and was going to go with taste, but when he brought it to his mouth and took a bite, the dry texture of the small little morsel and the burnt grease smell ended up being too much of a combination. His face turned this sickly shade of green, and he was rushing from the booth toward the bathroom as quickly as he could.

When he got back, his pallor was ashen, and his eyes were huge. He looked at me and whispered, “I’ve never tasted shit, Bails, but I imagine that’s what it tastes like. I never want to see another fucking corn nugget for the rest of my life.” Needless to say, he got out of there pretty fast. Ever since then, I’ve called him ‘nugget’ because it was freaking funny, and I told him that’s what he gets for always doing stupid stuff just to prove he’s a man.

My eyes grow heavy, and my thoughts drift back to my sexy biker as I let his sinful smile chase me into my dreams.

At least until it fades into dead onyx eyes in a face vastly different from his, wearing a macabre smile that warns me of the killer stalking me from the shadows.