Page 11

DIESEL

S he’s delicious.

Long after her body has gone still against my mouth, I linger. I could taste her all afternoon.

And I would, except her thigh is trembling. She’s one-legged again, like at my bar. Seems to be our thing.

I lower her other leg to the floor. Her perfect hairdo is askew, and I don’t give a damn that people might notice her coming out of the building looking considerably less put together than she went in.

When I let go of her, she threatens to buckle. Yeah, I got her good. I sweep her into my arms.

She clutches my neck. It’s intoxicating, carrying this naked woman through the expensive room draped in tapestries and old money.

I lean close to her ear. “I’m going to fuck you now.”

She sucks in a breath, but her eyes close as she snuggles her head against my shoulder. That’s consent in my book.

I consider the location. There’s a satin bench that doesn’t appeal. A floral chair sits in front of a dressing mirror.

It’s so girly in here.

But footsteps in the hall make Symphony’s head snap up. “Who’s that?”

“Probably servers taking out food.”

But she’s alarmed. I can feel the tension in her body. “Dinner is over.”

“So, they’re cleaning up.”

But the door rattles.

Symphony launches from my arms in a wild leap fit for a rabbit. She grabs my arm and drags me behind an old-fashioned folding screen like in Victorian-era movie, where someone changes clothes behind it.

There’s a hushed giggle, then a voice we both know. Bailey. “Everybody’s going to notice we’re missing.”

Then Rhett. “They’re too busy dancing.”

I glance over at Symphony. Her eyes are squeezed shut.

I’m amused that the newlyweds had the same idea. I peer around the edge of the screen.

The room is dim, and they pass right by the pile of Symphony’s pink dress off to the side of the door.

Rhett lifts Bailey and flings her onto the satin bench, digging beneath a thousand layers of the wedding dress.

I look away and nudge Symphony.

“What?” she whispers. I can barely make her out in the dying light. It will be fully dark soon.

“They’re going to bang in here.”

“Right now? In the middle of their reception?”

I have to chuckle. “Looks like it.”

Bailey lets out a long moan.

“And sounds like it.” I chuckle again.

“Shhh,” Symphony hisses. “They’ll hear you!”

“I don’t think they’re going to hear anything over their own caterwauling.” The noise level is definitely rising.

Symphony bites her lip. She has her arms crossed over that luscious rack, not that it helps. She’s totally naked other than her shoes.

Bailey is really going after it. “Rhett! Rhett! Slam it! Slam it hard!”

Symphony and I exchange another glance. She laughs so hard she snorts, then claps her hand over her mouth.

It’s fun watching her try to keep it together.

“Fuck me like on the beach! Grind it in there!” That was Rhett.

I tilt my head at Symphony. “Beach?”

Symphony leans close, smelling of jasmine. “They got left on a private island during a cruise. They were alone for three days.”

“Nice.” I grab her ass. “How can we get that treatment?”

She whisper-laughs. “Bailey’s sunburn peeled for a month.”

I squeeze her delicious flesh. “Worth it.”

A loud squeaking sound makes me peek without thinking. Nope, shouldn’t have looked. Rhett is all up in those skirts, and their hardcore plunging action is making the bench scoot along the hardwood floor.

Symphony smacks my arm. “Don’t watch!”

“Sorry, the sound made me look.”

She grabs my head and shakes her boobs.

I’m not arguing, but I ask, “Not self-conscious anymore?”

“I’m fine with my boobs.”

“Woman, I could make a whole art piece of the glory that is your ass.”

Her eyes take in my face as if sure I’m lying. “You’re gunning to stick it in me, aren’t you?”

“Maybe.”

“You’ll have to wait your turn.”

The room slowly quiets down. We hear the shift of the bench.

“Now I have to pee,” Bailey says.

“Can’t disturb your routine,” Rhett says.

“No UTIs,” Bailey says.

Symphony and I glance at each other, trying not to laugh again.

“T to the M to the I,” Symphony whispers.

I lean in close. “Do you pee after sex?”

“Not routinely.”

I run my hands along her body. Bailey and Rhett will leave soon, and we can continue where we left off.

“The bathroom’s through here,” Bailey says. “Why don’t you go back to the reception, and I’ll meet you there in a moment?”

“Okay, my love.”

There’s the sound of zippers and fabric rustling. Then the door opens and closes.

Symphony peeks around her side of the screen, pushing my hands away. “She’s gone into the bathroom. I only have a minute.”

Before I can argue with her to wait, she darts out from our hideaway and returns with her clothes. “Thank goodness they were too busy to notice my dress on the floor in the dark.”

She straps into the bra. I hold out her skirt for her to step into. When she’s zipped, she shakes her head at the ripped panties. “You’re a rogue.”

“Like in Victorian England?”

“Rogues are the same in every century.”

I shrug. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

She smooths the netting wrap around her shoulders. “I guess I’ll toss them.”

Nope. I snatch them from her hand and shove them in my pocket.

“Trophy?” she asks.

“I didn’t exactly win.” She’s clearly anxious to get out of here before Bailey comes out of the bathroom.

She peers out. “Coast is clear.” She takes my hand, and we hurry across the room. The door is still open, so we quickly make it to the hall. Her hair is chaos.

“Let me fix this.” I reach for the pearl comb and pull it out. Her honey hair falls in a cascade.

“It wasn’t salvageable, was it?” She reaches up to touch her head.

“It’s better like this.” I tuck the comb in another pocket.

“Everybody is going to know what we did,” she says as we move toward the back door.

“Good,” I tell her. “Then they won’t be shocked when I lick frosting from your fingers.”

Her cheeks pink up in the golden light of the lamps. “You’re going to do that?”

“This evening is far from over.”

We pass through the exit into the night air. It’s fully dark.

I take her hand as we approach the tall gate surrounded by rose trellises, considering where I might take her next. I’m not done with this one yet.

But my father’s voice booms from the other side of the wall. “Looks like we found the boys finally,” Dad says. “Took years, but we have them back.”

I hang onto Symphony’s hand. She goes still. She understands they are talking about Merrick and me.

“What do we do with them?” That’s Uncle Sherman. “You think this bar of theirs is a viable operation?”

Fuck. They’re talking about the Leaky Skull. This is exactly what I never wanted.

“Unlikely,” Dad says. “You going to get in there and shore it up?”

Sherman laughs. “Hell yeah, I am. I’ll put some people on it.”

My anger rises like a wave of fire. Like fuck he will.

I throw the door open so hard it smashes into the trellis wall.

Sherman grins. “There he is. Our prodigal Pickle.”

“I’m not a goddamn Pickle.” I hold off on adding, Motherfucker .

“Every Pickle’s a Pickle.” He chuckles like it’s the best joke.

I see red. Hell no. If I’m around him for five more seconds, I’ll end up insulting him, punching him, or worse. And I promised I wouldn’t make a scene.

I keep my word.

I let go of Symphony’s hand and whirl around.

I’m out of here.

Done.

Fuck this.

I stride back into the building and cross the entrance foyer.

Quick little steps follow me. “Diesel?”

It’s Symphony.

I can’t give a fuck about her, either. She’s with Bailey, who just married Rhett, who is part of the whole damn problem. If I keep her, I’m keeping them all.

I push out the front door and into the parking lot. Old-fashioned lamps spread a yellow glow across the cars.

“Diesel!” Her voice is a shriek.

Jesus Christ. I walk over to my bike and snatch my helmet off the back.

When I throw my leg over the seat, she’s there, jerking on my arm.

“Why do you hate them so much?” she cries.

I flip the key and snatch the clutch. “Because they are motherfuckers who can’t stay out of my goddamn business.”

“So, you’re leaving?”

I hesitate, hand on the throttle. Symphony stands here, the wind blowing her hair all around, the pink skirt lifting into a bell like the Barbie cake doll one of my sisters had for a birthday decades ago.

I don’t want to abandon her. She was the only thing about this fucking expedition worth a damn.

“Come with me,” I tell her. “We’ll get drunk at the Leaky Skull, and I’ll make sure you have six more orgasms before you pass out.”

Her gaze holds mine. She’s thinking about it, and my dick starts recovering from the rage over my asshole family.

“It’s an excellent offer,” she says. “But I can’t leave my best friend’s wedding. You did what you said you would. You came. You sat with us.” She gives a shy smile. “The orgasm was a bonus.”

Well, damn. “You know where I am if you are up for more of what we started.” I stomp the kick-start, and the engine roars.

Symphony steps back, holding her hair down. She looks lost and a little forlorn. Not how I wanted this to end.

But fuck it. I’m out.

I roll away from her, then dart forward.

But even as I leave the parking lot behind, I can see her in my mirror. She stands there watching me go, a small patch of pink in the dark.