Steele: Into Your Heart (Carolina Bad Boys #3 (14 page)

“I made detective.”

I let out a loud shout and spun her around. “Damn right. This calls for a celebration. You got a babysitter on tab?”

“I
might-could
arrange something. What do you have in mind?” She looped her arms around my neck as I set her on the ground.

“You. Me. And a hot date.”

****

A few nights later, I spiffed up. I shaved until my cheeks were scraped clean and my goatee cropped close. I wore a dress shirt, a loose tie, black pants, biker boots. Hell, I’d even used cologne. Boomer sat straight up on the sofa as I strode through the hallway, sending a whistle after me.

Lucky getaway, I thought when I made it out the front door, Boomer none the wiser.

Then he hung his head out after me. “Where you going all dressed up stinking of cologne? I didn’t even know you owned any.”

“Got a date.”

“With who?” He dogged my heels.

“A person of interest.”

His dark chuckle was pure threat. “Yeah. You keep your little secret for now. I’ll get it out of you if I have to thrash you to do it.”

“Only thing you’ll be thrashing tonight is your dick in your hand, braw.”

Laughing, I ducked away from his big swing and made it into the safety of my truck. I’d washed it earlier in the day, and made sure there wasn’t any crap floating around on the floorboards. I wanted my ride pristine for my woman.

I was glad I’d gone to the extra effort when Ashe opened her door. I just about fell over on the porch. My breath whooshed from me, and I backed up to take in the full effect.

“You’re wearing a dress.” Understatement of the year. Holy fuck me. The dress was classy insofar as it must’ve cost a mint. The shimmery blue sheath hugged Ashe’s amazing body and allowed for maximum cleavage, plus a whole lotta tan leg on show. Deep V neckline, tight short sleeves, and million mile high heels. In other words, she spelled S-E-X on L-E-G-S.

“I am.” Ashe shut the door and stepped out onto the porch.

I tried to unstick my gaze from her body, but that shit was just criminal.

“So this is one of those times you’ll wear one for me?” I ogled her until I thought my eyes would fall out of my head.

“You like?”

“Love.”

Ashe spun around in a twirl. “I’m making an exception. Don’t get used to it.”

Eyes falling outta my head? My cock was going to punch out of my pants. Her ass was gloved in the dress, and her back was pretty much bare down to the deep low dip of her spine.

“Christ.” I fingered the blond waves of her hair when she faced me again and focused on her lips—light pink. “Did you curl your hair for me?”

“Did you put on cologne for me.”

“Yeah,” I answered in a daze.

“Yeah,” she mimicked.

We’d be lucky if we made it into my truck without a fuck happening.

But we were doing the date thing, and I was determined to do it right. “Promise not to get used to it, but don’t mind me staring at you every chance I get.”

Ashe looked bad-fucking-ass in uniform. She worked my balls when she did the biker chick thing. But this Ashe—in a dress? Goddamn dream come true.

I got her seated in my truck with minimal manhandling in between. That was a damn miracle right there. The night was hot and sultry, Ashe hotter and more sultry. I blasted the A/C, but she rolled down her window, not giving a shit if her hair got messed up.

My kind of woman.

I’d made reservations downtown. Big time. The works.

And didn’t I feel like a king as I escorted her into the restaurant? Great service, cozy table in a quiet corner, excellent food, and the banter I’d come to know and love.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in long sleeves before.” Ashe tapped my wrist where the ink trailed onto the back of my hand from beneath my shirt cuff.

“Bad thing?”

“Good thing.” She finished the last bite of her appetizer and pushed the plate to the side.

“Why’s that?”

“You clean up good. Not that you don’t do rough and a little dirty around the edges good too. But you’re seriously gorgeous, Brodie, and then there’s that hint of the bad boy underneath.” She let her tongue touch the rim of her wineglass before she took a sip.

Under the table my
bad boy
kicked up in my pants.

Leaning into her, I curled my palm around her neck. I licked the last drop of white wine from her luscious pink lips. “You’re makin’ me a little crazy here, Ashe.”

“Am I?” Her hand moved to my thigh, and another kickstart from my cock jolted me.

“We have at least two more courses to go.”

“And I bet you love eating . . . dinner,” she whispered against my mouth.

Seriously in danger of goddamn purring like Twatson, I imagined eating what I wanted most. Ashe’s pussy.

The waiter interrupted us before I gave voice to my real wishes. Good thing because Ashe could arrest me for getting her naked on a table in the middle of a downtown Charleston restaurant.

“Cara’s a cool kid,” I mentioned as I tucked into my meal.

“It hasn’t been easy, but she’s very good. Like I said, she hasn’t gotten to the boyfriend stage yet.”

“Neither have you.”

She slowly ate another bite of her scallop dish. “This is pretty close, don’t you think?” Her voice dropped.

Yeah, close, but not good enough.

I switched subjects, taking a minute to enjoy Ashe in her dress—the low cleavage and plump tits along with the high hem and long thighs. “So the detective thing means you won’t be beating the streets anymore, right?” Color me fucking ecstatic about that.

“It means I’ll be assigned to Vice.”

I set my knife and fork down. “And busting dealers?”

“Among other things.”

Not goddamn happy.

“But you’ll be careful and wear a bulletproof vest and handcuff snakey motherfuckers,” I rasped out.

“That’s not really how it works all the time.” And just like that she took the last bite of her seafood as if
la-di-da
. . .
I have a life-threatening job, no biggie.

I groaned into my hands. “Why can’t you be a paper-pusher or ticket-writer or something that isn’t gonna get you shot again?”

“Maybe I like a little danger in my life. Maybe that’s why I’m with you.”

Looking up, I saw the glimmer of her smile. “Are you with me?”

Ashe patted her belly. “Depends. What’s for dessert?”

“Killing me.”

“Might as well have dessert first then.”

We had dessert. It was something sinfully decadent and chocolate, and we shared it. The entire meal was five-star all the way, but Ashe was the biggest star. Beautiful, breathtaking even. It wasn’t the dress or the curled hair or her lip gloss she reapplied after she finished her after-dinner brandy. It was the warmth she ignited in my chest and the heat she flamed in my cock. It was her absolute no-holds-barred realness, and her still-hidden heart.

After I paid the bill and drove her home, I walked her up the porch with my arm draped around her shoulders.

Cara peeked out behind the blinds.

Snoop
.

At the door, I turned Ashe to me. “Next time we’re going for fried chicken and some good ol’ coleslaw.”

“Next time?”

“Yeah. These are my terms: dates with you, dinners with Cara, sex whenever and wherever we can, monogamy, a relationship. There”—I shrugged—“I said the
R
word. That’s what I’m offerin’. That’s what I want with you. Take it or leave it.”

Ashe gave me a wicked grin. And my cock was hard, harder, hardest with no hope for reprieve tonight.

“I’ll consider your offer, Mr. Steele.” She reached up, pulled me down, and slanted her silky mouth to mine.

Breaking the kiss, I cupped her ass inside the sexy dress. “I have no doubt, Detective Kingston.”

“I’ll call you.”

“Do that.”

When she turned away, I twirled her back. I didn’t leave her with a little goodnight sample. Hell no. I bent her over my arm and ran one palm up her leg and under her dress to her upper thigh. I laid a kiss on Ashe that drove all thought from my head and all heat to my groin. When I pulled away, I sucked the tip of her tongue with me, fucking it with swirling motions.

Depositing Ashe in an upright position—chuckling when she braced herself against the door—I squeezed her hip. As I backed down the steps, she didn’t move. I really wanted to pick her up, drag my pants down, her skirt up, and fuck fast and deep and hard.

Marshaling all my restraint, I forced myself to keep moving away. “G’night, babe.”

“’Night, Brodie.”

Tilt

IN THE BATTLE BETWEEN the newly minted police detective versus the big bad biker guy, I racked up points. Ashe called me the very next day, oh yes she did. She agreed to see me again. We were “going out”. Definitely monogamous, except it was more like monastic because there was no staying over, no nookie, no orgasms, and no NC-17 nudity due to Ashe’s single mom status. But I kicked some serious awesome ass in the boyfriend department.

In my favor, I had a few things working for me: 1. I wasn’t a loser. 2. Chicks dug me. 3. Cara was my freaking cheerleader. 4. The piercings on my cock made Ashe see fucking stars and come like she’d never come before. Even if she wouldn’t let me make her come now.

We talked on the phone. We texted. We went on dates. The dates ended with kisses—burning down the house kisses. Make out sessions that were hot and sexy and went no further. I hoped we were building a relationship not a weeklong fling, so I was cool with that.

I went home to jack off. She better use only her fingers and/or vibrators to get off. We were exclusive. I had expectations about who or what she could do. The who? Me. The what? Things that came with batteries. Better if I was the one using them on her.

Aaaaand
next I’d find myself sitting in the OB/GYN waiting room next to Leelee Stone doing goddamn
Cosmo
quizzes about the best sexual positions.

What the fuck?

****

Boomer busted into my office a couple weeks after the promotion dinner date. I slapped my laptop shut. He aimed his serial killer grin at me as he kicked the door shut.

“I’m not cruisin’ porn.”

“No shit?” He pulled me out of my chair and into a skull rub. “Maybe just cyber-stalkin’ one Officer Ashe Kingston? Heard she was your Bike Week fling. Leta let it drop.”

I wrestled free from his lockhold. “Not a fling. Not talkin’ about it. And Ashe is detective now.” I winced. Dealers, gamblers, pimps, and gangbangers instead of the easy shit like speeding tickets, traffic violations, and shoplifters.

“That’s probably the smartest thing you ever said, Brodie. So. That means you really like her.”

Heat burned my cheeks as I blushed, of all the goddamn things. “She’s incredible. Career driven and has a kid. A fucking police detective. Definitely not my type.”

Boomer plunked down into a chair. “This is more serious than I thought. You been whipped, braw.”

“You even start about her billy club, and I’ll whip you,
braw
.”

“I’m just saying it’s cool.”

“It is not cool. Not at all. Fuck’s sake. She’s making me crazy.”

“Slow ride?”

“Anything but. Ashe had me in bed three hours into Bike Week, but now I find out she’s got a kid, a girl, Cara.” I stalked around the corner of my desk, which was messy at best, a tornado at worst—paperwork sucked. “She’ll date me for now, but I’m not sure how into the relationship thing she is. I’m screwed, blued, and tattooed. She started out giving me this asinine no strings nonsense.”

“Huh. That sounds familiar.” He winked at me.

“Fuck off with you.” I pointed to the door, but he just made himself more comfortable in the chair. I did not need him reminding me my free-balling days were coming home to roost.

“Nope. Dude, you are done.” Boomer squinted at me while he rubbed his hands together, enjoying this all too much.

“I wish she’d do me again. We haven’t fucked in weeks because she doesn’t want Cara to get confused with me staying over all night.”

“Plan of action?”

“Get back into her panties before I die of blue balls.”

“Next option?”

“Find out if she could fall in love with me. Do the
make a family
thing.” Spinning to my desk, I planted my knuckles on the wood. “You think she could love me?”

“What’s not to love? You usually think with your dick, but you got a big heart.”

“Some support would be good here, Boom.” I shifted around to glare at him.

He crossed his arms over his chest. “Try pantyhose for that shit. I hear it works”

“Cuntbag.”

“Dickface.”

“Hate you.”

“Love you more.” He kept on a’looking at me.

“What the hell you staring at?” I asked.

He relaxed into the chair and smiled. “This is good. You’re all growed up and shit.”

“Boomer. Shut it.” I walked behind him to open the door and
kindly
show him the way out—maybe with my boot up his ass. “PS. you could take a lesson and get yourself laid by any one of the honeys hanging out at Retribution.”

“Don’t like easy pussy.” He passed by me with a back slap and a dip of his head.

I breathed a huge sigh of relief and got back to work, not on the latest Dreamworld level of Candy Crush. Cara, a fellow addict, was stomping my ass on that game.

Not twenty minutes later, Cat burst into my office, long hair swinging, icy blue eyes flashing.

“You dawg!” She slapped her palms flat on my desk. “After years of being an asshole to Kingston, you’re screwing her?”

I sat back to get out of hitting range, just in case. My sister had a mean right hook when she wanted to use it. “Technically not screwing her at the moment.”

“Oh my God.” Cat started laughing as she pointed the jabbing finger at me. “You’re dating her?”

“Did you know she has a kid? A daughter?”

“You’re boyfriend daddy now?” Her laughter kicked up another notch. “Oh, this is so good.”

“Cat, I really like her, so shut the fuck up already.”

She dropped into the seat vacated by Boomer earlier. “It’s serious.”

“Want it to be.”

“I always liked her, you know. Aside from the part when she arrested me.”

“She’s a good woman. Might be too good for me.”

Cat reached across the desk and grabbed my hand. “You stood by me. You took care of me. You . . . made all the funeral arrangements for Mom and Dad, and the whole time you stayed with me. You are a good man, and an amazing brother, and you deserve her. You do.”

“You think?” I asked.

“I know.” She blinked up at the ceiling, and I squeezed her hand.

“When did you get so smart?”

“I learned it from watching you.” She leaned close to place a kiss on my cheek. “We need to get Boomer attached next, right?”

“You’re scaring me with this being-in-love stuff.”

“Awesome.”

****

Ashe insisted on a few things when she agreed to “attempt” a relationship with me. Saturday night was Game Night—not the kinky
get your clothes off and tie me up
variety and not even the PS3 kind, but board games. Monopoly, Mousetrap, Parcheesi, Scrabble. There was also Dinner Night, which meant every week on rotation we each chose a new restaurant to try out.

I got it. She wanted normality for Cara, not a deadbeat boyfriend. Better yet? I really liked it. Popcorn, soda pop, goddamn pop music on the stereo, and a lot of laughter.

One Friday night in mid-July, it was my turn to choose the restaurant. Home Team BBQ on Sullivan’s Island was our destination. We ate fried chicken, pulled pork, baby back ribs, home fries, and the sweet tea came on tap. Cara was soaking up her summer vacation, and I soaked up her mom’s presence, holding Ashe’s hand, strictly under the table.

Afterward I drove them home, an idea brewing in my head. I helped Ashe out and then Cara.

“You got that sitter for tonight?” I asked Ashe.

She’d hired her regular to look after Cara for a few hours. Sure, we could head back to my place and knock boots provided Boomer was MIA and Twatson put away her back scratching talons for the night, but I had something different in mind.

“Yes.” Ashe smiled up at me.

I wanted her to come to the club with me. Why the hell not? Everyone plus their plus-ones already knew about her, no thanks to Leta.

Fuck it.

I had a woman. I wanted to show her off.

“
Mmm
, Tigerlily.” I kissed Ashe, as chastely as I could with her daughter looking on, and then leaned back. “Got a surprise for you.”

“Oh My God. That is
saweet
!” Cara squealed from the porch. “Texting that to my friends.”

“You’re grounded if you do. iPhone gone.” Ashe threatened.

“Whatevs. I got straight As last year. And you love me. You are so not grounding me because you have a cool boyfriend. Everyone’s jelly.”

Whatevs? Jelly?

I kissed Ashe’s neck until her pulse butterflied under my lips. “Come to Retribution with me tonight?”

“Can I come? Can I come?” Cara squealed again.

“No,” we answered together.

As I helped Ashe back into my truck after the babysitter arrived, I muttered, “That kid have bat hearing or what?”

“You better get used to it,” Ashe grumbled.

I couldn’t freakin’ wait.

At Retribution everyone hushed when we walked in as if I’d grown three heads instead of a steady sort-of girlfriend, who was also a cop.

“Carry on.” I ignored the looks and steered Ashe toward the bar and Probie.

The cement floors almost sparkled from his handiwork with the mop and bucket. Against the wall opposite the bar, the dark wood and red baize pool tables looked polished, too. Low round tables appeared to be cleaned off instead of the usual sticky mess, and the long steel bar shined beneath the lights.

We didn’t exactly do swanky, but we weren’t completely low-rent either.

Acting like she’d been a regular all her life, Ashe skimmed her fingers down my jaw then strolled right on over to the pool tables. She took up a cue and placed some money down.

Go get ’em girl
.

Although a few people continued to stare at Ashe, there was none of the former animosity toward her, which was good. I’d hate to have to kill someone while I was on a date. Maybe Tuck had talked some sense into the crew.

Leaning on the bar, I glanced toward the hallway that led to the storeroom, bunkrooms, and johns. “The shitters clean?”

“Spic ’n’ Span, man.” Probie worked a cloth across the bar.

“Good. You know, you might get a patch yet.” My gaze landed on Ashe as she leaned over to break the pool balls.

God, that ass.

Her shirt rode up, revealing a sliver of skin, and—oh yes—ass dimples. Her cut-off jean shorts hugged her curves, and her shoulders were bare in the sweet, sweet halter top. She didn’t look trashy, but she’d definitely switched from Mommy of the Year to Mama Mia. Add in the strappy sandals that showed off her legs, and I’d be lucky to get her back home without banging her. My cock wholeheartedly agreed.

“Two beers, two shots,” I ordered.

Probie handed me the drinks and I focused on him. I’d never really looked at the guy before, naturally assuming as the “probate” of the club he wasn’t yet worth the effort. He had short dark hair and heavy brown stubble. Guessed he hadn’t taken up the Lady Schick after all. He also wore a thick industrial chain around the cords of his neck and one wrapped around his wrist.

“That a real chain you got going on?” I pointed at his throat with the top of my beer bottle.

“Maybe I like kink,” Probie answered.

I smiled darkly, wondering if he was yanking
my
chain. Probie was almost becoming a living breathing human being instead of a scrubrat. But still, “Or maybe you want to be put on a leash.”

Probie peered past me instead of taking the bait. I swiveled to follow his stare. He was watching Ashe and her bent-over ass.

I knocked him on the side of the head, none too gently. “Hey fuckwad, stop oglin’ my woman.”

“Ogling?” He shook the dizzies from his head.

“Yeah. Staring. Eye-fucking—”

“Visually groping,” Tail rapped Probie on the other side of his skull, sealing the deal with a mean grin. “Off-limits, shit-for-brains. On that note, how are the crappers?”

“You are both asswipes,” he said.

Tail and I clanked beer bottles.

“She is hot as hell though,” Tail mentioned.

I scowled at him.

“What can I say? I’m a sucker for juicy blowjob lips.”

Sucker. Ha ha. I get it. Not funny.

“Taylor, I’ll probably kick you to Kingdom Come if you say anything like that ever again.”

“So that was my one and only freebie?” He angled his dark green eyes toward another woman, one who would no doubt end up half naked with him in the backroom within the next hour.

“Yeah. That was your freebie.”

“Got it.” He ambled off, rolling broad shoulders beneath the flow of his long black hair, intent on the new chick.

“Looks like it’s family night.” Probie jerked his chin behind me.