Chrome: With a Heart Forged in Steele (Carolina Bad #4) (29 page)

My cock throbbed wildly.

I backed my feet up, stretching her body out, and withdrew with one achingly slow stroke.

Her hips arched. Her neck bent. Her lips gasped open.

I watched my cock withdraw all the way, its thick length wet as hell and ready to fuck. I waited several seconds after the darkly engorged head emerged then charged into her.

Her scream rebounded against my shout.

Slick with our perspiration, my precome, her gleaming juices, I plowed into her, taking her back against the wall, pinning her in place. My cock belted into her. My pelvis pounded against her. My back arched, and I dug in deep.

The pure bliss of fucking her raw steamrolled over any possible restraint.

Rayce’s legs curled around me, but she kept hold of the spindles, her knuckles bone-white, her mouth ovaled-open with each whine of breath.

Her body was curvy and rich, and she bounced against me, coming right back at me.

I twisted her slightly, and one of the piercings through the head of my cock hit her hot spot.

“Yes. There! Oh, yes!”

My muscled rippled and flexed. My arms bulged and bunched. My skin was wet, and hers tasted salty-sweet when I licked up her neck to her mouth.

She gasped and cried out. The shocking heatwave of her orgasm clutched down on my cock. I let go of her lips, my head knocking back, my body cranking to get that . . . last . . . inch . . . deeper.

Searing heat pounded through my entire body. It held me in a high fever until finally it all rushed out of me, into her. Totally into her for the first fucking time ever.

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!” Rayce’s smoky voice rose with every last heave of my cock inside her.

I could hardly stand let alone keep her upright after that. My chest billowed in and out as I let her legs drape to the floor.

“Jesus H. fucking Christ,” I gusted out.

Rayce slid down the wall.

If I’d had the energy to laugh I would’ve.

Instead I planted my bare-naked ass right next to her, curling her against my body.

She petted my chest, lazily swirling her fingers through the black hair.

“Can’t move,” she murmured.

I kissed the top of her head. “
Ungh.
”

“
Uh huh
.”

Shitlock tiptoed—
tap tap tap
—into the hall. He looked at us with scorn. He hissed, turned around, and raised his tail as he slinked back out.

“I think we just scarred the cat for life.” I drew Rayce closer.

“I’ll buy him the expensive kitty food.”

“Good luck with that.”

****

The next couple of weeks sped by. The wedding date was set, and we were shooting for the beginning of May. Preparations were made. We were busy with work, working side by side on our bikes.
Working
it all out in bed. Or on the floor. Basically in any semiprivate place we could make it to in time.

Rayce chose a wedding gown, which she wouldn’t let me see. I could tell she was in love with it by the way her eyes lit up when she told me, but then she nibbled on her nails and frowned.

“What’s the problem?” I joined her on the couch, pulling her into my arms.

“It’s expensive.”

“I can—”

“No.” Her chin set, she stared at me. “You are absolutely not paying for my wedding dress. I’ll go all Scarlett O’Hara with the curtains if I have to.”

“But we have blinds, not curtains. And I’m pretty sure that wasn’t a wedding dress.”

“Shut it.” She growled, tackling me to the cushions. “You know what I mean.”

I linked my fingers with hers. “I don’t care what you wear. You know that.”

“I want to be pretty for you,” she whispered.

“Princess.” I lifted her chin and kissed her lips. “You got that down already. And hot as fuck. Sexy as hell.” I gave her a wicked look.

“Again, Boomer?” She fake sighed as I started getting her naked.

She gasped when I laid my mouth on her. “Again,” I mumbled.

Turned out she got the dress of her dreams. When Tucker caught wind of it, he refused to back down. My girl was true grit, but he had bite, too.

And of course I took a trip to Frankie the Tailor’s for a new suit. Fun times as usual while he
measured
my inseam, asked me which way I hung, and pumped me for any new info on Josh Stone—his unrequited flame.

Inevitably he finagled an invite to the wedding—with lots of tugging, tape measuring, the ever-present, unspoken threat of the sword sheathed inside his cane.

One week before the wedding, Rayce sat on our bed in a pair of tiny panties and a racer-back, black tank top that distracted the hell out of me.

“Are you even listening to me?” she asked.

I chewed on my lip and dragged my gaze from her bountiful tits. “
Huh
?”

“Do I need to start wearing flannel or something?”

“Sure. Put on that shirt of mine you like so much.” I tickled her sides and she laughed, scooting away.

“I’m serious!”

I pulled her back to me with my hands wrapped around her ankles and climbed on top of her.

Licking the tiny divot of her belly button, I grinned. “Me too.”

Her hands in my hair, she cranked my head back. “Is Tucker supposed to walk me down the aisle?”

I sat up beside her. “What?”

She shrugged. “Just being stupid. Hate being a girl.”

I snuffled a snort and really looked at her.

Her shoulders slumped, and her mouth screwed tight as she scraped at the ever-present oil stains on her nails.

Reclining on the bed, I tugged her against me. “I gotta say I’m fucking thrilled you’re a girl.”

She rose up on her elbows above me. “Even when I get emotional?”

“Lord, woman. Yes. To everything about you. All the damn time. Especially when you get all mouthy with me.”

She slugged me on the shoulder.

And quickly ducked her head. “I just don’t know what to do.”

“’Bout what?”

“Should I ask Tucker to walk me down the aisle or not?”

“I’m pretty sure he’d jump at the chance,” I murmured. “After my folks died . . . he kept me together.” I turned my eyes to her. “He’s a good man to have as a father, Rayce.”

“You’re beautiful, you know that?” She kissed my bicep and licked a hot trail to my shoulder.

My skin erupted with chills, but I rolled my eyes. “You’re not supposed to say that to a guy.”

She straddled me, locking my hands down beside my head. “Big. Beautiful. Protective.” Her head dipping to my neck, she whisper-licked, “So hot. And those eyes.”

“What about them?” My voice lowered, husky and rough.

“Ice blue. Piercing. Sexy as fuck.” She kissed my lips slowly then drew away. “But I still don’t know what to do.”

“Rayce. There doesn’t have to be an aisle. There doesn’t even have to be a wedding. You don’t have to marry me. There can just be you and me.”

“But I want a wedding.” She pouted. “I want to marry you.”

“Are you sure? You are kind of young.” I curbed my grin, but my lips quirked.

“What’d you just say, old man?” Her eyes gleamed with flirtatious challenge.

Princess Phoebe

SO THERE WAS A wedding, in slightly slapdash fashion even though I tried to make it a somewhat classy affair. It would take place at the house on the bank of the river at the beginning of May.

The morning of the big day, I ate and showered. Shaved and dressed. I polished my dad’s cufflinks, admiring their gleam before I slipped them through my cuffs.

Rayce had stayed at JB and Hunter’s place the night before. I was aching to see her and only a little bit nervous, wondering if she’d really show.

Brodie burst into the room, a wide grin on his face. He sniffed at the air. “New cologne?”

“She likes it.”

“Remember the last time we did this, and you helped me with my tie?” He knocked my hands away as I struggled at the mirror.

I watched in wonder while he deftly tied a fashionable knot in the dark gray silk under the collar of my pressed white shirt.

Huh.

Ashe must’ve taught him how to do that.

“Cat’s reception,” I said. “’Course I remember.”

“Yeah.” His head ducked.

“Now you’re a dad with one more on the way, and I’m getting married, right?”

“Never told you. You and Cat . . . ” His blue eyes were wet when he looked up. “It’s been a long fucking haul.”

My heart triple-timed, and I clapped him on the shoulder. “Got through it together.”

“Yeah. We did, didn’t we?” Brodie smiled.

“How can you be such a loveable fuckwit?”

He tucked his fingers into his perfectly tailored suit—the opposite of mine,
the white duds offset by a deep gray shirt. “Good genes, dude.”

“I don’t know. I feel like The Hulk in this thing.” I squinted at myself in the mirror.

“Oh, trust me. Rayce is gonna like it.”

“You think?” I looked huge in the dove gray evening tux—just right for a spring wedding, Frankie had assured me.

“What I think is we just got way too girly.”

“Word.”

“Okay. We’re all good.” He patted my face. “Everyone’s here but the bride. Let’s do this thing.” He laughed evilly as he stepped into the hallway. “Better you than me.”

I pushed him on his back to get him moving. “Ass. You know Ashe isn’t gonna stand for that shit much longer. Can’t believe you haven’t set a date yet.”

“
Pfft.
I got that woman wrapped around my little finger.”

“You wish.” I chuckled.

We walked outside together. It was late afternoon, the day clear and bright blue and not too hot. Lucy had taken over the party planning, thank fuck for that. The house was decked out in flowers and candles while she’d worked some kind of magic in the backyard. No chairs, the ceremony wouldn’t be a long one. Instead everyone milled around, and the aisle was a path of crushed white seashells cordoned off with shiny black satin ribbons and big puffy bows. The trail led down to the riverbank—the huge span of the Ravenel Bridge to one side and the downtown Charleston peninsula with all its spires and steeples directly across the Cooper River from us.

Didn’t get much better than this.

Now I just needed a bride.

I started sweating it a little, Brodie and me shaking hands, greeting folks, making our way to the altar. The waterside platform had been decorated with yet more ribbons, and flowers, and lanterns swinging from live oak branches overhead.

Rayce and I had kept the invitation list small. Small as in, you know, all of Retribution, Redemption, Chrome and Steele. Ashe, Brodie and Cara—a given. Cat and Nick. Everyone from Stone’s Garage, including Leelee, Jolie, and JJ, as well as Josh’s mom, Gigi Stone. She was sort of a sassy mother figure to all us hooligans.

And Frankie. Who was busy making moony eyes at Josh much to Leelee’s amusement and Josh’s consternation.

Everyone was there all right. Except Rayce.

Just waiting for the bride.

And waiting.

Waiting.

Finally my ears perked up, and I stood straight and tall.

The telltale sound of roaring pipes from incoming choppers ripped through the afternoon air. I knew it was Tail, Handsome, Tuck, and Hunter doing the honors, escorting the limo delivering Rayce and her maid of honor, JB.

My heart beat like a freakin’ bongo drum in my chest. I swiped my palms on my pants for the millionth time, and Brodie knocked me on the shoulder.

“Quit it. You’re wrinkling the tux, bro, and Frankie’s looking,” he hissed.

Tail, Hunter, and Handsome merged with the crowd, Tail giving me a very unsubtle two thumbs up and a shit-eating grin.

The music started, but that was just background noise to the rush of blood booming in my ears.

JB made her appearance. I hardly paid attention as she swished down the path, my gaze locked on the porch of the house where Rayce would emerge.

Finally the doors opened, and out she stepped, holding onto Tucker’s arm.

“Oh, fuck.”
And holy shit, too.

My jaw practically unhinged, and then I smiled so wide I thought my face would break in half. I couldn’t believe it. She’d gone traditional. Well, traditional enough for Rayce. The dress was creamy white, rich and satiny, and it made her ivory skin glow even more. The skirt was cut high to just above her knees in the front, and it was full and flouncy.

She stepped off the final porch step, onto the aisle, her perfect pink lips spread in a tremulous smile. Big hazel eyes shining even from this distance.

The skirt of her gown flowed to full length in the back into a long sweeping train that fanned behind her like peacock feathers. White stockings encased her curvy legs. The high heels were gold and silver and sexy as fuck. But the top of her dress? Almost blew me over.

I rubbed my hand across my mouth. Strapless. Tight. Cinched in at her waist and cupping her gorgeous tits in such a way they were pushed up and out even more.

Watching her approach me, I licked lips and thought about how much fun it was going to be getting her out of the gown later. Might just have to leave her in the stockings and stilettos though.

Brodie whispered something. I didn’t hear a word he said.

Tiny white and pale purple flowers decorated her carefully arranged blue-streaked, night-black hair.

She was the most stunning creature I’d ever seen. And almost mine.

Tucker presented her with a flourish that got chuckles from our friends, but Rayce and I stared at each other, wholly captivated.

I took her hand from Tucker’s, glancing quickly at him to see him wipe under his eyes.

Jesus.

Swallowing hard, I guided Rayce onto the altar beside me. Her lips quivered, but her smile held even as two big tears slid down her cheeks.

“Goddamn.” I brushed the teardrops away then held her face in my hands. “You are so beautiful.”

I couldn’t resist a kiss—a soft feather-touch on her mouth.

Her hand on my chest trembled. “I’m not complaining about you either.”

The ceremony began, the reverend doing the honors. I didn’t notice when it was my turn to say my vows, Rayce had stolen all my attention. Her gorgeous face, her bright eyes with the wet sheen of unshed tears, her hand squeezed in mine.

Brodie elbowed me again.

Speaking strong and clear and from deep within my chest, I pledged every part of myself to Rayce, who truly looked like a princess today.
Phoebe. Almost Phoebe Steele
.

She stared into my eyes, her smile growing with each word I said, every promise I made to love her, honor her, cherish her forever.

When I was done, I gently framed her face with my palms to wipe away a few more tears.

“Do you, Phoebe Kathryn Lafayette—”

Her nose wrinkled.

“Just for a few more minutes,” I whispered, caressing her hand.

“Take Harold James Steele to be your husband. To have and to hold . . .”

I pressed my lips together, briefly closing my eyes when her voice rang out, soft and sure. When I opened my eyes, she reached up to dash away the wetness on my cheeks, the most mesmerizing smile on her lips.

We exchanged rings, and that time both our hands shook.

She wouldn’t let anyone help out with that purchase—not me, not Tucker, and she refused to take an advance from Josh. My woman had some serious pride, which made me even prouder of her.

As soon as the reverend said, “I pronounce you husband and wife. You may now—” I swooped her into my arms.

The rest of his declaration was lost in the swelling yells and thunderous applause from our friends.

Our kiss was slow, a passionate twist of tongues and searching hands. Then it became reckless, a burning hot meld of mouths as we clung closer to each other.

I only broke away from her when the clapping and shouting turned into catcalls and wolf whistles.

“Hi, Mrs. Steele,” I whispered against her ear.

Her hands caressed up the middle of my chest and she smiled at me. “Hello, husband.”

That was our last quiet moment together. Madness—
I mean
, our friends—descended en masse. The whirlwind party began immediately after all the hugs, kisses, congratulations. Food and champagne and the champagne of beers. The cake and speeches and dancing.

Lots of dancing
on a large platform after the altar was extended down by the river.

The afternoon melted into evening, a startling pink and purple sunset that wasn’t half as gorgeous as Rayce.

Music poured from the band we’d hired. All the candles had been lit, and hundreds of lanterns swung from the trees making the whole scene magical. Everyone danced—young and old. JJ with Leelee. Tucker with Rayce. I’d taken a turn with Gigi before slipping away. Laughter and chatter filled the night just as stars sparkled to life in the big black dome of the sky above us.

I stood alone, off to the side, letting it all wash over me. What a crazy group of people, and somehow it all worked. Family came in all shapes and sizes and circumstances, and this was Rayce’s and mine. Our parents were the only ones missing, my folks and her mom, but somehow I imagined they knew.

They’d know we found each other.

Cutting into the crowd, I located Rayce.

She swung her hips as she saw me approaching, rolling her shoulders and shimmying her breasts.

I caught her around the waist, one hand caressing the soft skin at the nape of her neck. “I believe this is my dance.”

We moved together, finding our own rhythm as heat coursed between our bodies.

“I saw you over there by the trees.” She kissed the edge of my jaw then tilted her head. “What were you thinking?”

I brought my hands to the sides of her face, fanning my thumbs across her cheeks. “I never thought I’d be this lucky.”

“Me either.” She gave me the brightest smile, the sweetest kiss. “I love you, Boomer.”

“Want to know what else I was thinking?” Twirling her around, I arched her over my arm in a fancy dip.

She squealed as I righted her, my palm slowly gliding up her silk-stockinged thigh.

Biting her lip, she cast flirty eyes at me. “What?”

“I can’t wait for everyone to clear out so I can take my bride to bed.”

My hand reached its destination and her eyelashes fluttered down.

“Why wait?” she purred.

As for the honeymoon . . .
welllll
. . .