Chrome: With a Heart Forged in Steele (Carolina Bad #4) (18 page)

Job well done on my part.

I pecked her on the lips then lifted my glass.

She broke out of the sex-spell and muttered a low string of words I didn’t quite catch but went along the lines of
evil man . . . all worked up . . . sits there smirking
.

Then she clinked my glass with a, “Bottoms up.”

“We can get to that later too, if you want.” I took a glug of beer.

She choked on hers, hitting me on the shoulder.

After she managed to swallow without spewing beer across the table, she turned to me. “How can you just say stuff like that?”

“Because I’ve been thinking about it?” I shrugged.

“But I haven’t—” She shook her head and lifted her drink again.

I scooted closer and whispered in her ear, “Haven’t had a hard cock inside that perfectly ripe ass of yours?”

She shivered as my lips caressed her earlobe, and she gulped audibly.

“I’ll take that as a no.” Laying my palm on her thigh, I trailed it up until I butted the center seam of her jeans. “Some women think it’s really hot, especially with the piercings. Really gets ’em going.”

Her nose skimmed my cheek as she turned her head, her lips nearly colliding with mine. “And just how many women have you done it with?”

“Well, that doesn’t matter, princess, because none of them
mattered
.” That may have sounded crass but it was true. I’d had my fair share of fucks—none of them lasted.

My lips brushed hers. “But you matter, make no mistake about it. It’s just a thought if you wanna give it a shot. I’d make sure you like is so much you come crawling back for more.”

Sitting back, I crossed my arms over my chest, my big thighs spread in obvious invitation.

All for her and only her.

She stared at me, her cheeks growing more and more flushed until, groaning, she buried her head in her arms.

I gave a rough laugh, reaching over to caress the back of her neck and the tiny buttercup tat.

She peeked out at me. “You’re a very naughty man.”

“Your naughty man.” I kissed her cheek, and she sat up with a huff.

But she grabbed my hand and held it in hers as we drank our beers and talked engines, trucks, and bikes. Me, more and more impressed the longer she gushed about the intricacies of reassembling a transmission. Her, growing more and more lively. She hadn’t been kidding about being top dog at Stone’s.

I hoped he was paying her enough.

I might have to steal her to come work for me.

A pall fell over the conversation when I asked her how she got into motors in the first place.

Pulling her hand free, she stared at her rapidly emptying beer glass. “My dad wasn’t always so bad. He used to buy and repair cars. Flip them. He taught me the trade. He was good at that. Then the drinking started. And you’ve seen all those rusted-out junkers at the house.”

My lips drew tight. It wasn’t a fucking house. It was no place suitable for her to be living at all, with or without her slacker dad.

I kept my mouth shut. Luckily the food arrived. Before I knew it, Rayce was almost swooning in her seat. She’d ordered the Lucky #1 Sub filled with pork belly. And of course, the duck fat fries.

Me? I had the fan favorite—the duck club. Make that two duck clubs.

“How the hell can you eat all that and still look
like that
?” She asked over a mouthful of fries she washed down with beer, waving her hand along the length of my body.

I took another large succulent bite, chewed, swallowed. Then flexed an arm, the hard muscle of my bicep like a mountain under fully inked skin. “What? Like this? Working out. Heavy lifting.”

She fanned herself with a napkin, licking her lips.

“Getting hot, Rayce?”

“Shuddup.” Her eyes back on her plate, a smile coasted across her mouth.

Fucking perfect.

She gobbled another three fries and a bite of her sandwich.

“I could ask you the same thing, princess.”

“High metabolism.”

“Not that high.” I eyed her big curves appreciatively.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Feminine outrage sparkled in her eyes.

I reeled her closer to me. “You’ve got a bangin’ body, woman. Dainty in all the right places, and the perfect size for my hands right where it counts.”

“
Hmmm
.” She tried to suppress her smile.

Failed.

At one point she swooped in to take a big bite of my nearly finished club sandwich. My chest rumbled with a huge booming laugh, calling attention to us, but I didn’t give a fuck. I swiped some mustard from the corner of her mouth, and she ducked her head.

“Don’t hide from me.” I coiled my hand behind her neck and drew her to me. “I like it. I like all of you. Already told you that.”

I kissed her once. Twice. I delved deep inside, swirling around her tongue and touching every part of her. Her hands grasped the front of my shirt, and she opened wider to my plundering kiss.

Pulling back, I rested my forehead against hers. Then I kissed both her cheeks and slid away.

“You taste almost as good as my sandwich.”

She threw the menu at me.

All good.

“So”—I asked later—“are we doing this chocolate bacon pie thing or what?”

“Did you say bacon? And chocolate?” She almost bounced in her seat. “Two of my favorite things.” She smirked.

“What?”

“Well my other favorite thing is . . .” Biting her bottom lip, she reached between my legs, sending a jolt of
want now
to my cock.

“I can get you that particular favorite thing free of charge.” My hips bucked.

She withdrew her touch. “Nah. I’m thinking chocolate bacon pie tonight.”

“Wench.”

“That’s wrench-wench to you.”

“Don’t I know it?” I sighed heavily and signaled the waitress to place the order.

We shared the oddly delicious concoction, and Rayce quietly asked, “What did you do . . . I mean how did you handle it after your parents died?”

I chewed the corner of my mouth, looking down at our entwined fingers. “Well, we had Cat to think about—”

Rayce skimmed her fingers over my knuckles. “I know about Cat. And Brodie. I’m asking about you.”

My voice stuck way down in my gut, and I had to clear my throat before I could answer. “I don’t know. I didn’t have a choice but to go on. Didn’t have the hardest part, anyway. Brodie had to take care of Cat and most of the funeral details.”

Rayce threaded her fingers back through mine. “But you blamed yourself all these years, Boomer. It cut you up.”

My smile fell far short. I took a deep breath. “Had to be strong for Cat and Brodie. No matter what, I’m the big brother.”

“You need someone to take care of you too.” Her hand swept through my hair and down my face, cupping my jaw. “Did you even take the time to grieve for them?”

“Mourning happens day by day. Year by year.” I shrugged my shoulders. “That was part of the whole house re-do after Christmas. Letting them go a little bit more. Holding onto the good things.”

“I’m so sorry, Boomer,” she whispered.

“I don’t want you to worry about me, princess. I want to take care of
you
.”

“Can’t it work both ways?”

“Don’t know. No one’s ever . . .”

“You wouldn’t let them in.”

“No. Not that.” I matched her deep gaze, and she seemed impossibly older than her age. “They were never the right fit.” Hugging her to me, I exhaled when she snuggled against me. “You’re the right fit.”

Her arms ran around me, and I pulled her into my lap.

“What about you? Your mom?”

“Oh. Completely different story.” She glanced away. “Cut and run. Didn’t want to be tied down by a kid.”

“Who told you that?”

“My dad.”

“I find it hard to believe she’d just up and leave you with a piece of work like him.”

“I don’t know, Boom. It doesn’t matter.” Her lips turned down. “Happened a long time ago. I was only three.”

It fucking did matter.

“You ever try to track her down?” I asked, holding her against me.

“Too expensive.”

“Well, you got me now.”

Leaning back, she squinted at me. “What if I don’t want you?”

I snorted. “Way too fucking late for that.”

Rayce didn’t look displeased so I passed her a glass and raised mine. “To better days.”

“To better days.”

After paying the bill, I ushered her out.

We passed Inksanity tattoo parlor on the way to the truck.

“Cole works here.” I rapped my knuckles on the window when I saw him inside.

He shot two thumbs up—and two eyebrows—when he saw Rayce beside me.

“Oh wow. He does tats?”

“Yeah. Talented mofo too.”

“So I should check him out when I get more ink?”

I slit my eyes at her. “Depends what part of your body you want to get marked.”

Seriously.

I was already jealous of any of the possible dudes who had done her body art in the past so that was a definite no.

“What about a nice little heart on my freshly shaved pussy?” She slid her legs on either side of my thigh and trailed her hands down to my belt.

Pushing her against the building, I added the pressure of my throbbing cock to her hot little cunt.

“No man’s looking at your pussy but me,” I hashed out.

Hell yes to the tat. Fuck no to any other guy getting an eyeful of that. Looked like I needed to take up a new pastime.

She danced from under my arms and swished her ass in front of me as she continued toward the truck. “I’m just
thinking
about it.”

Rayce was trouble with a capital fucking T.

I caught up to her quickly and was way ahead of her when she reached the TopKick so I could open her door and help her inside.

Sliding beside her, behind the wheel, I glanced over.

Her hand halted on the seatbelt buckle. “Now I get why you’re really protective of your people.”

Turning away, I started the engine, listening to the turbo whine. Only relaxing when I heard her seatbelt snick home.

“Boomer? You know you didn’t do anything wrong that night, right?”

I nodded, but I only felt better when she tucked her hand in mine, when her head rested against my shoulder.

The ride back to Mt. P. was quiet. Intimate. Close. Personal. And finally not the kind I wanted to run away from.

Turning into a shopping plaza, I parked and killed the engine.

“What are we doing here?” she asked.

“Bowling.” A grin curved my lips.

“I’ve never been bowling.”

“Looks like I’m gonna own your ass then.”

“You wish.”

“Got that right.”

Her blush was something I’d never tire of.

Inside I paid for a lane, the unbelievably ridiculous clown-colored shoe rentals, and even a turn inside the tiny photo booth.

Rayce sat on my lap as we squished inside, both of us making stupid faces as the camera clicked away. The last frame though? Her face was cupped in my hands and my lips crushed against hers.

I stashed the strip of pics inside my wallet.

With one more round of drinks in hand, we moseyed to our lane.

Lucky me, I got to stand behind her, correcting her stance with my hips and my drill-hard cock nestled against her ass.

Ulterior motives? I had them. I’d brought her here mainly so I could watch her bend over the return machine in her tight jeans.

But she didn’t need to know that.

No matter how much Rayce was the pool table and dartboard queen, bowling was definitely not her game. Gutter ball after gutter ball.

“Don’t worry, princess. Next time we’ll get kiddie bumpers.” I relaxed in my chair, my hands crossed behind my head.

“Ass.” She pivoted toward me, her shoes squeaking on the lane.

I strutted toward her and swatted her backside. “You keep saying that and I’m bound to think you’re interested in what we discussed earlier.”

She let the ball roll and jerked around to glare at me.

And yep.

Gutter ball.

“You suck.” She pranced beside me.

Me?

I hit one strike after another.

“Next time darts.” She glared at my points racking up on the electronic scoreboard.

“Game on.”

When I won by a landslide, she grumbled, “
Ugh
. Fuck hot. Big cock. Knows how to use it. Smart. Sensitive. Tats. Piercings.
Hate.
”