Iron & Bone (Lock & Key #3) (13 page)

Jill’s beautiful little girl, who looked just like her, except for her dad’s dark hair. Jill, who was pregnant now with Grace’s kid. Jill, who I should be looking out for, not fingering her on Rae’s kitchen counter or jacking off to her picture on my cell phone in my kitchen and in my own bed.

That was this morning.

“Jill—”

“Let’s be friends, right?” Her voice was tight.

My eyes met hers.

“You can’t say it, can you?”

I grimaced. “I don’t know what to say first.”

“I do. We, us? This feels good,”

“Jill, you’re my fucking Madonna. Not—”

She let out a laugh. “I’m sure she’s done it on a kitchen counter or two.” She picked up the baby doll off the floor and a large multicolored velvety worm.

“No, that’s not who I’m talking about.”

Her face flushed again as she dropped the toys into a straw basket. “You did make me feel ‘like a virgin’ just now, I have to admit.” She sang a line of the infamous lyrics. “That’s going way back now. See how I know my pop music?”

“Not
that
Madonna!”

Her brows bunched together. “What are you talking about then?” She stared at me, her jaw slowly slackening. “Oh, oh, you mean—” The blood drained from her face. “Oh.”

“I shouldn’t be pinning you down in your kitchen. You-you need to be worshipped.”

She moved toward me, her blue eyes leveling with mine. Her hand landed on my chest and slowly rubbed up and down. The heat rose up my neck, my face.

“The way you touch me, kiss me, is worship,” she whispered. “Believe me, I’ve never had that before. Ever. I can feel your heart pounding through your mouth, through those fingers. I can only imagine what it would be like when—”

I put my fingers over her lips.

She blinked and clasped my hand, her lips nuzzling my fingertips. “I’m not the Virgin Mary, a divine goddess, or some delicate fairy princess. I’m just me.”

Her lips brushed over the thin skin of my wrist where my pulse raged. Something shimmered in my gut at her soft touch, the heat in her eyes.

“You’re not just
anything
. Not to me.”

“I spread my legs for you just now. I urged you on.”

“Yeah, you did.” I peeled her hand off me and forced out a laugh. “You need a fuck, little girl?”

Jill punched my chest. “A, I’m thirty-two years old, not a little girl. B, I need
you
to fuck me.”

My heart slammed against my ribs, my mouth dried. “We both know—”

“Save it!” She marched into the kitchen.

I stood still, my eyes shutting closed like a castle gate against the cavalry of possibilities of me and Jill rising before me.

A drawer slammed in the kitchen. Her voice rose loudly. “I’ve been with boys, and I’ve been with men my age—”

I stood in the doorway of the kitchen, Rae’s white-and-blue trimmed kitchen straight out of the pages of
Cozy Country Home Magazine
. I was the interloper, the intruder. I was the fucking,
What doesn’t belong in this picture, boys and girls?

Jill spun around, facing me. “I like you. I want
you
.”

“Jill—”

“You’re older than me. So what?”

“Over thirteen years older.”

“That doesn’t matter to me, Boner. I’m not counting. I’m very attracted to you. Plus, I trust you. I know I’m safe with you.” A slight tremor unfurled over her lips. “I like that. I need that,” she whispered.

I let out a breath as I wiped a lock of hair from her throat.

Yeah, she needed that, especially after what she’d been through. She’d put on that brave face, sporting that breezy attitude left and right, but I knew—
I knew
—there was a gooey center to all of it.

Like there was to mine.

Was she still looking for another biker to come save her? Was that how she’d hooked up with Catch and stayed with him, even after it had gone to shit between them?

I didn’t want to be her biker security blanket. I didn’t want to be her cardboard-cutout dude whom she’d plant at her side and convince herself that everything would be all right.

I wanted—

My back straightened, I lowered my chin. “I don’t have to be your man to protect you. I’m always here for you. You know that, don’t you? You need me. I’m here. Right?”

“Right,” she said quietly.

“Jill, I’ve never had an old lady. I don’t want one.”

Her eyes widened. “I didn’t say I wanted to be your old lady.” Her neck suddenly elongated. “I mean, I’ve been an old lady, remember? I don’t want to go there again.”

Why did that surprise me?
My spine stiffened.
Why did that piss me off?

I folded my arms and eyed her, my pulse springing in my neck. “I’m not Catch the Asshole either.”

“Whatever you say,” she muttered, her eyes narrowing. “You’re seeing Mindy, aren’t you?”

The two of us glared at each other. A Mexican standoff without the guns.

“Mindy and I aren’t—”

She threw a hand up in my direction. “Right. Whatever.” She put the bottle of juice back in the refrigerator and slammed the door shut. “Let’s forget this conversation. Totally embarrassing, all of it. You’ve got Mindy and a bunch of other
chiquitas
wherever you go. I get that. Believe you me, I get that. What do you need me for?
I
need to get a grip.” She pummeled the door of an open cupboard, whamming it closed. “Thank you for the wake-up call.”

“Is that what you think of me? That hooking up with women, one after the other, is all I’m capable of?”

“Isn’t that what you just said?”

“No! That’s not what I said. I—”

She lunged at me and kissed me deep. Declaration and defiance and desire. Her tongue searched for the answers she wanted in my mouth.

Fuck, if only I could give her what she wanted.

She ended the kiss and swept my hair back from my face, a small hand wrapping around my neck. “I like you. I want to be with you. I don’t care that you’re older than me. You’ve got a few gray hairs. News flash: So do I. Only difference is, I cover mine up with a box of hair color once a month.” She raised herself on her toes and planted a gentle kiss on my lips. “You’re seeing Mindy. She’s younger than me. What’s the difference?”

“What’s the difference?”

“Yeah? What the hell’s the difference? Why is it okay that you fuck her, and you can’t fuck me?” She froze, her mouth dropping open, her eyes huge. “Oh my God, I can’t believe I just said that.” She visibly shrank and turned away from me, leaning over the kitchen counter. “Please forget I said that.”

“Jill, I like you. I do.”

Her head whipped around, and she faced me, her eyes glassy. “What do you like about me?”

“What’s not to like? I see you, and I fucking lose all control. Any logic flies out the window.”

“Tell me.”

I took in air through my nose, my eyes riveted on gray-blue ones. “Your softness. Underneath that sharp-talking mouth are endless curves of creamy soft I could get lost in.”

“Go ahead,” she whispered. “Get lost.”

The heat between us vibrated. Several feet of distance separated us in that kitchen, but I could feel her skin on mine, her breath on me right that very instant. She wasn’t going to let this go or let it be, and she needed to. She beckoned me into a new world,
that
world, but I couldn’t go there with her. It would blow me apart, and I was already blown apart. Decades’ worth of debris.

She took in a deep breath. “I want you. I like you. It’s very simple and very real.” She searched my eyes, her chin set. “Would this be a problem with Grace? Is that why—”

“No, of course not. It wouldn’t bother her.”

“Or the club? Because of my history with Catch. Is that why you’re—”

I shook my head and moved towards her, my hand reaching out and drifting across the soft skin of her upper chest, so pale next to mine. So delicate. Unmarred.

Her eyes fluttered for a moment. “If you want to keep this a secret, that’s fine with me.”

“Secrets are poison.”

Becca’s singsong shouts rang out, and the bump and crash of thick plastic echoed from the living room.

I removed my hand from her silky throat and stepped away from her. “She threw her sippy cup now, huh? Guess she wants a refill.”

“She’s not the only one,” Jill mumbled.

“I gotta get moving anyhow.”

Her eyes flashed. “You do that.”

“Jesus, Jill.” I turned and swung open the screen door, hustling down the narrow steps.

Behind me, the door crashed.

“
JUST ONE MORE BLOCK
, and we’ll be home, sweets.” I guided Becca’s stroller down the last block before Rae’s street.

This sleepy neighborhood, in a quiet almost nondescript small town on the edges of the Black Hills, really had become our home in the past four months that we had been here. I was glad I’d jumped on Tania’s offer to come to Meager with her. It was so crazy impulsive of me—
oh, what else is new?
—but without a doubt, it was the best impulse I’d had in years, if not ever.

Dusky orange, startling pink, and faded blue illuminated the thin blanket of bumpy clouds in the vast sky over us, yet just as quickly as the colors had surged to life, the brilliant glow began to fade into the sunless, murky shadows of early evening.

I pushed the stroller past the row of boxy houses that were all the same shape and size. It wasn’t a very exciting neighborhood really, but there was comfort in the familiar lines, a gracious pleasantness in the clean, well-cared-for exteriors, an ease in the spinning
whir
of water sprinklers filling the air. Each house sported a manicured lawn, trimmed with a variety of flowers and potted plants, and seasonal banners hung by a number of front doors. Only the
ding ding
of an ice cream truck was missing.

“I love our sunset walks, Becca. It’s so much nicer here than where we lived before. We’re so lucky to be living with Grandma.”

My heart squeezed at the thought that I was finally able to give this simple goodness, this kind of no-need-to-freak-out-about-tomorrow contentment to my daughter. Not freaking out about my tomorrows was very unusual for me. I’d been a pro for years now.

But I was freaking out about one thing, one person.

Boner and I hadn’t spoken to or seen each other since last week when he’d come over with Rae’s prescriptions, and we’d fooled around in the kitchen. No,
fooled around
was a ridiculous phrase. It had been more than that—something positively violent. At least for me.

He’d only touched me, barely entered me with his fingers. He hadn’t even had the chance to make me come—well,
almost
, but that didn’t matter. It was a beautiful, glorious, hot, and crazy moment, and I couldn’t stop daydreaming about it. I couldn’t stop fantasizing about what it would be like to have his naked body against mine, demanding surrender and abandon.

But he always stopped it.

I hadn’t heard from him or seen him since our finger-fuck that never was. He probably had shut it out of his mind, hitting the Delete key in his memory chip, and that was that.

Boner still saw me as that vulnerable, needy teenager he had shooed off club property a lifetime ago.

I shouldn’t have to convince him to pursue anything. He wanted to fuck me, but I was a loaded issue. I wasn’t some chick he could just do and dump. No, I was a part of his inner circle now.

The kitchen event was strike two, wasn’t it? I really didn’t want to suffer the humiliation of a strike three.

Time for me to hit that Delete key, too.

I let out an exhale as I pushed the stroller around a bump in the road where a tree’s roots had broken through the asphalt, creating an ugly ruptured mound. We turned the last corner and my breath snagged, my eyes widened.

The alien invasion had landed.

The angry black monster trimmed in dark orange and midnight blue skulked in the driveway behind my car.

That Harley.

His
Harley.

My illusion of liberation. The bike I’d ridden on for years, thinking I’d found the man of my dreams. The bike I’d ridden on, feeling the anxiety of not belonging, the tension of being wrong and trying to make it right.

I gulped in a breath, and my heart jumped back to life.