Make Mine a Bad Boy (32 page)

“Harder,” she breathed. “Harder.”

Complying, Colt rode her hard and fast until he reached a point where he didn’t care if she joined him or not. Luckily, right before he went over the edge, she tightened around him, pulling him in after her. The orgasm crashed over him like a California wave at high tide, sucking him down into a maelstrom of intense sensation. When he finally surfaced, blue eyes sparkled back at him with what could only be described as pure feline satisfaction.

“You’re heavy,” she said as she smoothed the hair off his damp forehead.

He rolled to her side and stroked a hand down her stomach. “You okay?”

“Yes. But next time I better get on top.”

He shot her a surprised look. “Next time?”

A quirky little smile tipped her mouth. “You don’t think you can tell a woman you want her, and have wanted her for most of your life, and then kick her out after only once, do you? I thought a lowdown good-for-nothing biker would have more stamina than that.”

His face cracked open with happiness. “Well, honey.” He brushed the back of his fingers down the center of her chest and then around each breast, stopping to give each sweet peak a gentle caress before moving on. “I guess if I’m forced, I can find the strength somewhere.”

The phone woke Colt out of the first sound sleep he’d had in months. He thought about ignoring it, especially when the woman in his arms wiggled her smooth naked butt against him. But then the numbers on the digital clock caught his attention, and he realized they had slept away half of the morning. Which wasn’t shocking, considering they hadn’t gone to bed until after four.

Carefully moving his arm out from under Hope, he leaned over her and grabbed the receiver. “Hello.”

“Hey, big brother,” Shirlene’s voice came through loud and clear. Almost too loud and clear. “The buses are getting ready to pull out. But, lo and behold, no one can locate Hope. You wouldn’t know where she is, would you? Burl and Jenna are about ready to call out the Texas Rangers.”

He glanced down at Hope, who still slept like the dead.

Shit. This wasn’t going to be good. But he couldn’t see any way around it.

“She’s with me.”

There was a long pause where he didn’t hear a sound, almost as if the mouthpiece had been covered, before she came back on.

“Burl’s on his way up.”

“What?” Colt scrambled for the covers, as if that was going to make a difference when Hope’s daddy plowed through the door.

Shirlene laughed. “Just kiddin’. Burl and Jenna’s bus already left.”

As his heart tried to find an even cadence, he gritted his teeth. “Shirlene, I’m going to bust your butt when I get a hold of you.”

“Now is that any way to repay a loving sister who lied through her teeth for you? If I hadn’t told Burl that Hope spent the night in my room last night, your ass would be grass right now, big brother. Especially after Rachel Dean said she saw you two together last night.” Another pause. “Hope is alive, isn’t she? I would hate to think of my best friend lying in a bathtub wrapped in a shower curtain, waiting to be dumped in the San Antonio River.”

“Funny, Shirl.” Relieved that he wasn’t going to have to deal with Hope’s pissed-off daddy, Colt leaned back against the pillows and stroked his fingers through Hope’s hair. “So are you heading out on the bus?”

“Actually, I thought I’d head over to Houston and see if I can get that workaholic husband of mine to take a couple nights off.” There was another pause before she spoke. “It doesn’t look good, does it, Colt?”

Even though he spent most of his life sheltering his sister from life’s brutal realities, he answered her truthfully. “No. Even if Dalton gets bought out, I don’t see how they’ll avoid more layoffs. Which is why we need to entice other companies to make their home in Bramble.”

“Companies like Desperado Customs?”

At one time, he would’ve laughed at the absurd notion
of returning to a town he’d wanted so desperately to leave. But he wasn’t laughing now.

When he didn’t answer, his sister continued. “Look, Colt, I’ve tried to keep my nose out of whatever has been going on with you and Hope all these years. But Hope is my best friend, and she’s going through a hard time right now. So if you’re just using her for a little entertainment while you’re in town…”

Colt’s fingers hesitated in the silky strands of Hope’s hair, and for the first time, he owned up to his true feelings. “You should know, Shirl, I’ve always cared about Hope.”

“I know, but you can still hurt someone you care about.”

It was a truth that he and Shirlene had learned at an early age. Their daddy had cared about them and he died, leaving behind a woman who couldn’t think through the pain. And consequently, she had hurt Shirlene and Colt by not being able to control a disease that almost destroyed their family.

The sound of a horn honking came through the receiver. “My cab’s here,” Shirlene said. “So I guess I’ll see you back in Bramble, big brother.”

“Only if I don’t see you first, little sister.”

The phone clicked, and he leaned over and hung it up.

Settling back against the pillows, Colt looked down at the woman who slept on her stomach next to him. Light filtered in through the crack in the curtains and fell over one bare shoulder and the smooth tanned skin of the arm that dangled off the edge of the bed. The heap of wild brown hair completely covered her face, and he reached out and smoothed it back. Her mouth lay open against the pillow, and without the thick hair to mute them, Colt
could hear her soft snores. The sound made him smile, and he slipped back down in the bed and snuggled next to her, curling an arm around her waist.

Against the white of the sheet, the blue ink of his tattoo stood out. It had taken two years to complete and numerous painful hours beneath a tattoo artist’s needle. The rattlesnake had been the first—a coiled symbol for fate and its ability to strike at any moment. The chopper and the banner with “Desperado” written across it came after the sale of his first custom bike. The Texas state flag on a night he’d missed home. And the tombstone with his father’s initials and the date he’d been killed in the car accident were done on a night when he’d missed being a father’s son. Shirlene had picked out the queen of diamonds playing card when she met him in Vegas one weekend. And, since she had talked him into a diamond bracelet the same night, it seemed fitting. As was the rose, a tribute to his beautiful mama and a relationship filled with its share of thorns.

But the tattoo that held Colt’s attention was the one of the snarling hog with the tiara hooked over one ear. A hog with wide eyes staring out over a cute little snout. So obviously different from the others, the tattoo had been a conversation starter on more than one occasion. Although not one person had ever gotten an answer for why he had tattooed a mean-looking, tiara-wearing pig on his arm.

Probably because Colt didn’t have one.

He hadn’t been drunk or drugged or even slightly road-weary when he had drawn the design for the tattoo artist. But once it was there, he wished it gone. For instead of a humorous joke, it became a painful reminder of something he wanted but couldn’t have.

He wanted Hope. Not just her body, but all of her. He wanted her quick wit and hot temper. Her strong moral beliefs and loyalty. Her stubborn streak and kind heart. He wanted her hero worship and her smiles. And he wanted her babies.

But mostly, he wanted her love.

He didn’t delude himself that she felt the same way about him as she had when she was thirteen. But one thing was certain, Hope desired him. If he could only figure out a way to keep her in his bed, there might be a chance that the Bad Boy of Bramble would end up with the homecoming queen after all.

“A
LL RIGHT THEN
,” Cindy Lynn said. Since she didn’t have the little wooden mallet she normally used when presiding over meetings, she tapped one purple acrylic nail on Shirlene’s onyx countertop. “Darla will be responsible for decorations.”

Just the thought of the silk-flower and hot-glue nightmare that Hope’s and Faith’s baby shower had just turned into should’ve sent Hope screaming from Shirlene’s beautiful mansion like the hounds of hell were after her. The only reason it didn’t was because she had more important things to worry about.

Like the financial stability of her town.

The future of her baby.

And the complete loss of her mind.

“Now who would like to volunteer to be in charge of the games?” Cindy Lynn asked the group.

“Me!” Twyla madly waved her hand and, before Cindy could even call on her, started rambling. “I’ve got this really cute poopy-diaper game where you melt different kinds of mini-candy bars in Pampers and then everyone
has to open up the diaper and try to figure out what candy bar poop is in it.”

“Oh, I played that one,” Rachel Dean talked around the little spinach quiche she’d just popped in her mouth. “And it’s harder than you think. The only one I got right was the Baby Ruth. But only because it looked just like my little Johnny’s after he’d eaten corn.”

Faith choked on her iced tea, and Hope slapped her on the back a little harder than she should have. But she was still mad about her sister’s deceitful matchmaking tactics.

“I’m not lookin’ at baby poop,” Darla spoke up.

“It’s not baby poop, silly.” Twyla flapped a hand. “It’s chocolate candy bar—” She stopped in mid-sentence, although her mouth still hung open, as if she wanted to finish but just didn’t have enough air to do it. Wondering what had caused her reaction, Hope glanced behind her, and her own breath caught.

Colt Lomax walked into the kitchen from the garage. He was talking on his cell phone, completely unaware of the women sitting across the room at the breakfast bar. Women who were all transfixed by the hot body clad in running shorts and a tight black T-shirt. And Hope couldn’t blame them. Not when she couldn’t pull her own gaze away.

“I’m not planning on firing anyone, Juan. The people who don’t want to transfer can stay in L.A.” He pulled open the refrigerator and took out a container of orange juice. Then, holding the phone to his ear, he opened the cap and chugged the juice, straight from the bottle. A drop dripped down his whiskered chin, then plopped to the strip of hard chest above his shirt’s V-neck. He swiped it off, causing Cindy Lynn to release a sigh that made
Hope want to reach over and rip out her high, tightly curled ponytail.

With the plastic bottle inches from his mouth, Colt turned to them. His surprised gaze swept over the group until it landed on Hope. Then it wasn’t surprise as much as heat that settled in his steel gray orbs.

A smile tipped up the corners of his mouth. A wicked smile that spoke of sweaty sheets and carnal knowledge. Hope tried not to react, but it was impossible, given that less than forty-eight hours ago she’d been surrounded by sweaty sheets while he used that carnal knowledge to give her five amazing orgasms.

Which was dumb. Stupid. And completely insane.

She had no business falling in bed with Colt Lomax—five orgasms or one. No business whatsoever. Hadn’t she learned anything from the past? Every sweet kiss and caress he had given her had been followed by some mean-spirited prank. Yet all it had taken for her to forget were a few sentences:
I’m saying I want you, Hope Scroggs. Have wanted you ever since I can remember.
Not “I love you. I need you. I can’t live without you.” Just “I want you.” And that had been enough to send her mind over the deep end and her libido off the scales.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

But even knowing how stupid it was, Hope had to fight back the urge to slip off the bar stool and walk straight into those well-defined arms. And the feeling only intensified when he hung up the phone without even saying good-bye.

“Hey.” The word was simple, but the deep, sexy underlying tones made her panties moist. Like steam off a Jacuzzi, heat rose from the spot where the soft material of her dress puddled in her lap.

“Hey,” she squeaked.

“Y’all look mighty pretty today,” he said.

There was a chorus of “thank yews,” even though his gaze never left Hope. Trapped in those beautiful pools of gray, all she could do was sit there and stare back. Until Faith coughed and broke the connection.

After one sexy wink of an eye, Colt recapped the orange juice and slipped it back in the commercial-sized refrigerator. “Shirlene failed to mention she was havin’ a group of lovely ladies over this afternoon. If I’d known, I would’ve cleaned up.”

“Well, I don’t know about the rest of the women here,” Rachel Dean said as she rested her chin in one man hand and looked Colt up and down as if he was a big stick of butter. “But I don’t mind a bit.”

Colt flashed a smile at her before he asked, “Where is my ornery sister, anyway?”

“She had a phone call,” Cindy Lynn piped up, her gaze glued to Colt’s legs. Unable to stop herself, Hope shifted on the stool and kicked her hard in the shin. “Oww!” She threw Hope a dirty look as she leaned down to rub the spot.

“Sorry,” Hope said. “I was just trying to cross my legs.” She looked up to see Colt grinning like an idiot.

“Well, I guess I better let you ladies get back to what you were doing.”