CHAPTER FOUR
RUGER
F*ck.
He couldn’t believe he’d said that. At least Noah hadn’t heard it. Sophie, though … Jesus.
“I’m gonna start unloading the car,” Horse said. Coward.
“No, I don’t feel that way, Sophie. Believe me,” Ruger said, and he meant it. “You’re the only
f*ckin’ thing he ever did that’s worth a damn. I’m crazy about Noah, you know that. And we don’t
always get along, but you’re important to him and that makes you pretty f*ckin’ important to me.”
She offered him a quavering smile, and to his horror he saw the glint of tears in her eyes. Not good. Ruger could handle Sophie pissed off, but crying?
No. F*ck no.
“Let me show you your place,” he said quickly. “Downstairs. You got your own French doors down there, private entrance. It’s pretty. You can use the front door, too, if you like.”
“Thanks,” she murmured. Ruger walked across the kitchen to the basement door. He opened it,
leaning in to turn on the light, holding it open for Sophie. He followed her down the steps, feeling like a dick. Then he felt like a bigger dick, because instead of thinking about ways to make things better,
he checked out her rather fine ass.
Damn woman had been driving him crazy all day.
Her tits practically jumped out of that tank of hers, and the cutoffs had to be ten years old, the fabric was so worn and thin. They were tight, too, which matched his theory about their age. Sophie wasn’t
fat, but she’d put on some weight since high school. In fact, she’d filled out far too nicely for his
comfort. Having her in the house would be a living hell. Hell already. He couldn’t see her legs without imagining them wrapped around his waist. When she’d propped them up on the dash earlier, he’d
almost crashed the goddamned car.
He thought about that morning, on the couch in her apartment. His cock grew bigger with the
memory, and he hoped to hell she wouldn’t notice, because he’d been right about one thing. Sophie
really could be a stuck-up bitch, and he didn’t doubt for a minute she’d use his attraction against him. She might want to f*ck him—and he knew she did, she’d been as into it as he had—but that didn’t mean she thought he was good enough for her.
F*ck, she was probably right about that one.
Screwing her would kick ass. But after that? Things would get weird. Ruger wasn’t interested in
settling down with any woman, but if he ever did, she’d be different from Sophie. She’d fit in with the club, for one thing. She’d be the kind of girl who knew how to crack a beer at the end of a long day, kick back, and then give him a blow job before bed. She’d love riding on the back of his bike, she’d be blonde, and she’d be tough enough to hold her own in a fight.
Most important, she wouldn’t f*cking talk back to him. Sophie had a hell of a mouth.
“Wow, it’s beautiful,” Sophie said, stopping him dead at the bottom of the stairs. He looked at her to find all traces of wistful sorrow gone. Instead she smiled big at him, clearly thrilled with something or other. Damn, woman’s moods changed so f*cking fast, a man couldn’t even begin to keep up. “I can’t believe this. How did you get everything ready so quickly?”
He blinked, then looked around, shocked.
What the f*ck?
When he’d left that morning, the place had been clean-ish. Not because he’d cleaned it, of course, but because one of the girls from the clubhouse had a few weeks ago for some reason. Trying to hook him for her old man, probably. He’d f*cked her and kicked her out, because he’d be damned if he’d let one of those bitches get their claws into him.
It wasn’t sort of clean now, though. It f*cking sparkled.
This was supposed to be a family room, with a small kitchen built into the back for reasons he’d
never bothered to consider. There was a short hallway to the side, with two bedrooms, a bathroom, and a utility room. He used one of the bedrooms for storage, the other as a place for his friends to crash. Never once had it looked or felt like a home.
Someone had come in and fixed all that.
Softy, fuzzy-looking blankets were draped across the couches, and a spiral rag rug full of bright colors covered the center of the beige carpet. There were fresh flowers on the coffee table, right in front of the wall of glass looking out over the valley. French doors opened onto the little patio under the ground-floor deck. Two loungers covered in big, soft pillows sat ready and waiting for use outside, framed on either side by cascading hanging baskets.
They hadn’t been there that morning.
There were even more fresh flowers on the pretty blue-checked cloth covering the round table near
the kitchen. A goddamn mystery table, because he had no f*cking clue where it came from. Even the
windows looked different. He studied them, then realized they had new blinds and long, gauzy
curtains.
Then he saw the TV. A flat-screen sat on what looked like an old-fashioned wooden radio, which he had to admit was kind of cool and different. Not a huge TV, but plenty big for the space. Sophie darted down the hallway, sadness forgotten. He understood her sudden happiness, because right now the
basement looked a lot more comfortable and welcoming than his space upstairs.
“Ruger, I can’t believe this!” she said called from one of the rooms. He walked in to find a child’s
bed, dresser, and bookshelf set up and ready to go, complete with a motorcycle-covered blanket and
pillowcase. The walls had been painted light blue and little pictures that matched the blanket edged
the ceiling. One wall had a big, black square painted on it, with the words “Noah’s Room” written on it in chalk. “Noah is going to love this. Thank you so much!”
Sophie launched herself at him. Ruger wrapped his arms around her automatically, confused as hell. Shit, she felt good. His dick jumped to full-on attention and he sniffed her hair, wondering what it’d feel like wrapped around his fingers while she sucked him off.
Sophie stiffened, obviously feeling his hard cock, and tried to pull away. He slid his hands down to her ass, holding her tight as he studied her face. Her tits pressed tight against his chest and he felt her nipples harden. She wanted this as bad as he did. F*ck, her lips were big and soft and pink.
He wanted to bite them.
“Mom!” Noah called. “Mom, where are you? I can’t believe this, there’s a stream and a little pool to play in. Ruger’s got four-wheelers, too. Horse says they’ll take us on a ride sometime!”
Ruger jerked away from Sophie.
“We can’t do this,” she whispered, eyes wide. “This is breaking the rules.”
“Yeah, you’re right,” he said, which was a goddamn shame. For four years they’d played this game, pretending the other didn’t exist. It’d been the right thing to do. Sometimes they’d played it so well he almost believed it. That’s what his nephew needed from them, not some sort of bullshit one-night
stand ruining things.
Ruger could get laid anytime—Noah only had one mom.
The kid ran in and stopped, eyes wide as he took everything in.
“Is this my room?” he asked.
“Um, yeah,” Ruger said. “Looks like it. What do you think?”
“Cool!” Noah said. “I’ve never had a room like this. Mom, you gotta see the yard!” He tore off again. Then Horse stuck his head in, offering Ruger a shit-eating grin. “Nice, ain’t it?”
“We should talk,” Ruger said to him, jerking his chin toward the living room. Sophie took the opportunity to dart through the door and investigate the second bedroom.
Horse nodded, and Ruger followed him out.
“What the f*ck happened here?” Ruger asked, keeping his voice low.
“What do you think?” Horse said. “Marie. She and the girls came over to fix the place up. All of ’em. I asked her to.”
“Why the hell did you do that?”
“You want your baby mama and kid to feel good about stayin’ here, right?” he asked. “Maybe feel
safe and welcome? Chicks need that. Figured it would make life easier. Not only that—made the girls happy to do it.”
“A heads-up would’ve been appreciated.”
“You were too busy pretending you don’t wanna f*ck Sophie,” he replied, shrugging. “Someone needed to step in. Marie charged everything, by the way. I told her to leave the receipts for you upstairs, on the counter. You can give me a check now or I’ll catch you later.”
Ruger froze.
“F*ck, didn’t think of that,” he said, looking around again, appraising things with new eyes. How
much did TVs cost, anyway? He glanced back at Horse, whose shit-eating grin had grown to full-on
mockery.
Oh, crap …
“You did this on purpose,” he said. “You did it just to f*ck with me, didn’t you? Like you give a
flyin’ f*ck about welcoming Sophie. You know I can’t take it back now. How much did Marie spend, a*shole?”
“I told her to keep it under three grand,” Horse replied innocently. “And I think she got most of the furniture used. You know Marie, never spends money unless she has to. Hell, you don’t even have to pay her back, it’s not like you told her to do it. I’ll cover the bill if you won’t. Not every man provides for his family—takes all kinds. I get that …”
“You’re a cocksucking bastard,” Ruger said, advancing on him. Horse laughed.
“You’re a cocksucking bastard,” Noah repeated like a damned parrot. Ruger turned to find the kid standing in the open patio door, looking proud as hell.
“Oh my god,” he heard Sophie gasp. He spun around to find her bracing a hand against the wall at the entrance of the hallway. F*ckin’ perfect, because they really needed more to fight about, right? “Ruger, you can’t say things like that around Noah.”
“Gonna have to work on that mouth of yours, brother,” Horse told him. “Don’t wanna make Sophie mad. Like I said earlier, pretty sure she could take you in a fair fight. I’d pay to see it, too.”
“Get out,” Ruger said to him, jerking his head toward the stairs. “Just get the f*ck out. Go home
before I shoot you.”
Sophie opened her mouth. Ruger turned and stopped her with one look. Enough.
“This is my house,” he said. “I’ll talk however the f*ck I want, and you’ll keep your goddamned mouth shut. Got me?”
She gaped as he turned and stomped back up the stairs. Behind him, he heard Noah chanting, “F*ck. F*ck. F*ck. F*ck.”
He needed a beer.
Make that a shot.
SOPHIE
Noah glared at me like an angry leprechaun. He sat in time out on our couch, thanks to repeated use of his new favorite word.
I popped a beer and raised it in a silent toast to the women who’d come to clean, decorate, and fix us food. I’d been serious when I told Ruger I didn’t want to spend time with the club, but what they’d done for me was enough to make me reconsider.
At the very least, I’d need to make an appearance to say thanks. They even left me a card and a long welcome letter full of important information, everything from their cell-phone numbers to the address of Noah’s new school.
This was particularly important, because school would be starting on Monday, a full week earlier than back in Seattle. In addition to stocking the basics, they’d left me a pan of taco meat and all the fixings, ready to heat and serve. Thank God for that, because there was no way in hell I was going upstairs in search of food.
In fact, I had no intention of going upstairs at all, not without an invitation. I’d use the patio door. Safer that way. Not that I was still mad at Ruger—this was so much better than our old place that not even I could hold a grudge at this point. Nope, by then I was more scared of him, because the rules kept changing and I wasn’t sure where we stood.
Drinking one of the beers helpfully stocked in my fridge helped me relax a little.
Most of our stuff was still out in the car. Ruger and Horse had done the heavy lifting at my old
place, but I could handle unloading by myself. Not like we owned much anyway. I figured I could start hauling things down tomorrow, feeling pleased that I’d had Noah pack jammies for the road. No
pressure to find his clothes tonight.
The one thing I would not be doing was asking Ruger for help. Things were weird enough already.
I heated the tacos and grabbed a couple of plates (the kitchen was fully stocked—just Corelle, nothing fancy, but it looked new to me).
“You ready to make good choices?” I asked Noah. He glowered at me and crossed his arms.
“Okay, I’m going to eat,” I told him. I filled my plate, grabbed a second beer, and walked over to the doors, opening them wide and stepping out to one of the loungers. I sat down with crossed legs, setting my plate on the pillow in front of me. Then I took a bite.
Holy shit, that tasted good after a long day.
“This is really yummy!” I called to Noah. “It’s your favorite. Lots of cheese and no tomatoes. Too bad you aren’t hungry.”
Noah didn’t respond, but I heard the scrape of a chair on the deck overhead. I looked up to see the
shadow of someone above, through the cracks in the decking. I waited for Ruger to say something. He
didn’t.
Okay.
I finished one taco and considered the second. Noah would be impossible if he didn’t eat, but I
couldn’t let him get away with defying me like that, either. Time for the big guns.
“Noah, you sure you don’t want a taco?” I called. “I’m halfway done, and when I finish I’m putting
the food away. Nothing but plain bread after that if you get hungry. Not only that, they left pie and ice
cream.”
Silence.
Then the chair above scraped again, and I heard footsteps as Ruger walked across the deck. Great. I hoped my yelling wasn’t pissing him off even more. I couldn’t get that garbage comment out of my head. I polished off my beer, bracing myself for battle on two fronts.
“What kind of pie?” Noah asked.
“Looked like berries to me,” I replied. “I’m going to warm mine up before I put the ice cream on.”
“I’m ready to say I’m sorry,” he replied. I allowed myself just a few seconds to gloat before I
walked back inside, face stern.
“So?” I asked him.
“I’m sorry,” Noah said. “I’ll make better choices next time. Can I make my own taco?”
“You can’t use bad words like that,” I told him seriously. “You say that at school, you’ll get in really big trouble.”
“Why can Uncle Ruger say them?”
“Because he’s not in school.”
“That’s not fair.”
Kid had a point.
“Life isn’t fair. Make your taco.”
I was digging through the fridge for the milk when I heard a light knock on the outside door. “Uncle Ruger!” Noah called. “We’re eating tacos. Do you want some?”
“Sure,” he replied. I straightened and turned toward him, wondering if he was still upset with me. I couldn’t quite figure out how he’d been the one to teach Noah to say “f*ck,” yet I’d gotten in trouble.
Of course, there were all sorts of things I’d never figured out about Ruger.
He came in and I handed him a plate warily, waving toward the food. He didn’t smile at me, but he didn’t scowl, either. I decided to take it as a positive sign.
“You made all this?” he asked.
“Nope, the girls from your club did,” I told him, figuring it was always good to make peace over food. And I definitely wanted peace with him, for both Noah’s sake and my own.
Maybe we could just forget today and start over tomorrow?
I decided I liked that idea a lot. I grabbed two more beers and handed him one, smiling hesitantly. “I found it all in the fridge. I still can’t believe they pulled everything together in one day. Thank you so much—I had no idea you were planning something like this. I’m blown away.”
He grunted, not bothering to look at me. Okay, guess we were back to him treating me like furniture.
Because I’m a perverse bitch, I didn’t like it. Stupid, right?
“You want to bring your food upstairs?” he asked us. “I’ve got a table on the deck. Hell of a view, and we’ll be able to watch the sunset.”
“Thanks,” I said, surprised. Guess he wanted to make peace, too. Thank God for that—neither of us had anything to gain from a cold war. And this really was nicer than any place Noah and I had ever lived. I liked the idea of having access to the deck … so long as Ruger didn’t turn on me again. Would I ever get to the point where being around him wasn’t hard to handle?
Yes, I told myself. I’d force myself to do it. For Noah’s sake.
Dinner went better than expected. Noah talked the whole time, which smoothed the way for me and
Ruger. I finished my food and then went and grabbed us some more beer, refilling Noah’s glass of
milk while I was at it. Eventually Noah got bored and headed down the stairs on the side of the deck to
run around. By then I’d had enough alcohol to feel slightly less awkward, and Ruger seemed to be in a
good place, too. I dragged my chair away from the table to the deck rail, propping my feet up against
the railing. He went back into the house and started some music, a mix of old and new stuff.
We each drank another beer as the sun grew low in the sky. I went from feeling good to feeling
f*cking fantastic all around.
Noah needed bed, so I took him down and gave him a quick shower. Poor kid was dead on his feet,
falling asleep before I finished his story. I decided to go back upstairs and sit on the deck awhile
longer. I liked a little time away from Noah every day, which had been hard to get in our last couple of
apartments. This was different, though. Noah could be safe while I had space.
“Hey,” I called as I climbed back up to the deck. “You mind if I sit up here for a while longer?”
“What it’s for,” Ruger said. He stood at the railing, leaning forward on his elbows and looking out
across his kingdom. He must’ve gone in and taken a shower while I was putting Noah to bed, because
his hair was damp. He’d changed into a pair of worn flannel lounge pants that hung low enough to
expose his hipbones.
Maybe I was projecting one of my dirtier fantasies, but I was pretty sure he wasn’t wearing anything under those pants, either.
They certainly gave me a nice, defined view of his ass.
The look worked for him in a big way. Ruger was all lean and muscular, with a six-pack that tapered down nicely and biceps that were a work of art. Oh, wow. One of his nipples was pierced, too. I’d
never seen that before. His pecs were broad and hard, large enough to be hot without venturing into man-boob territory. And his tattoos …
I’d always wondered about his tattoos.
His back was all Reapers MC, but his arms and shoulders had ink, too. I wanted to study them up close, but that seemed sort of rude. Also, I couldn’t quite get my eyes to focus.
I settled for standing next to him, leaning forward against the rail.
“Want another beer?” he asked. I shook my head.
“I’ve had enough,” I replied. I’d had slightly more than enough, actually. I’d swayed climbing the
stairs, and to be honest, I needed to either lean on the rail or sit. I felt my cheeks warm, and then I
giggled.
Ruger glanced at me, raising his brows in silent question. I giggled again.
“What?”
“Pretty buzzed,” I admitted, smiling at him. “Guess the beer hit me a little harder than I thought.
Been that kind of day. Not enough food, not enough sleep. You know how it goes.”
He smiled back at me, and damn, he was beautiful. He’d definitely taken out some of his piercings,
though.
“Why do you have less metal in your face now?” I asked, my sense of tact lost along with my sobriety. “It makes you look less scary and more human.”
He glanced at me, raising his brows.
“I pulled most of ’em out last winter,” he said. “Started boxing, and they aren’t so good for that.”
Huh. I didn’t know what to say about that. My eyes caught on the ring he’d left on the lower left
side of his lip. I wondered how it would feel if I kissed him there, maybe sucked it into my mouth. I’d tug on it with my teeth and then attack the rest of his—
“You’re cute when you’re drunk,” he said, startling me.
“I’m not drunk,” I told him, indignant. “I’m buzzed. Perfectly okay … just … happy.” He laughed, then leaned over to whisper in my ear.
“Get much happier, you’re gonna pass out. Then imagine what I could do to you.” That was pretty funny, and I found myself giggling harder.
“Are you flirting with me?” I asked, feeling daring. I’d been trying to figure him out all day. Why
hadn’t I just asked? I’d been afraid to talk about our relationship before now, but I couldn’t remember
why. “Because I don’t understand you, Ruger. Half the time you seem to hate me and then it all
changes. Keeps flipping back and forth. It’s weird.”
He raised his brows. My eye caught on the piercing there, too. I wondered how much that hurt. Of course, it was nothing compared to his tattoos. My eyes dropped back down to his lips. They were full and way too soft for a guy, which I knew for a fact because they’d been all over my neck earlier.
Yup, I’d definitely suck on those, given the chance. I’d suck on them for a good long time.
Then I’d start moving down, trying out that pierced nipple on the way down to his cock. Was it as big and built as the rest of him? I wanted to know, desperately. I swayed again, feeling heat rise up through me, nipples hardening.
“I’m not trying to flirt with you,” he said.
Oh. Now that was a buzzkill.
“That’s too bad,” I said, sighing. What a shame. I wanted to sleep with Ruger. I really did. Or hell,
anyone, for that matter. My rule about only dating safe guys I could control didn’t lead to much in the
way of action. Maybe I should revisit those guidelines … “I don’t get to flirt enough. I spend all my
time working and taking care of Noah. It’s kind of tiring, Ruger. I’d like to meet someone, you
know?”
He didn’t respond, looking straight ahead. A little muscle in his jaw clenched. If I’d been just a
little braver, I’d have leaned over and licked his jawline. He had just enough of a five o’clock shadow that it’d be nice and rough under my tongue.
“Don’t look at me like that,” he said, closing his eyes. “Despite what happened this morning, I’m not trying to start something with you, Sophie. You realize how f*cked things would get if we started screwing each other? I’m not looking for a relationship and I’m not a one-woman man. We gotta work together for Noah. You know that.”
I sighed. I did know it. Stupid beer.
“Yeah, you’re right,” I said, turning away from him to look out across the valley. He’d really found a hell of a place. I still couldn’t believe how great our new home was.
Felt great to really relax, too, let it all out.
“Noah has to come first, we can agree on that one. I just want to get laid, though. Do you think any of the guys in your club are available? I don’t want a boyfriend, just a friend with benefits. Someone I can f*ck and then ditch, guilt-free, when it gets old.”
Ruger made a choking noise and I glanced over at him, concerned. “You okay?”
“I thought you didn’t want anything to do with the club,” he said, his voice strained. “How did you go from that to friends with benefits so fast?”
“Actually, I think I might give the club a chance,” I replied. Maybe the Reapers would be all right— and the more I considered the whole friend-with-benefits thing, the more I liked the idea. I never got to have sex. I was twenty-four years old, for God’s sake. I should get to have sex!
“They did some really nice things for me today. Horse left home in the middle of the night to help
someone he didn’t even know. And those girls … They must’ve worked for hours, getting everything
ready for us. Just the furniture is amazing, let alone leaving dinner ready to go. I think the stencils are
still wet.”
“Jesus f*ckin’ Christ.”
I frowned at him.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked. “I thought you wanted me to get to know your friends in the club. And seriously—I deserve to get laid. I’ve earned it!”
Ruger straightened and turned to me, every muscle in his body tense and tightly leashed. His nose
flared as he took a deep breath, and my eyes caught on the muscle in his jaw. He’d always been scary,
but right now he looked downright lethal. I should’ve been terrified, but I had my buzz wrapped
around me like a nice warm blanket of protection.
I wasn’t going to let him bully me anymore.
“I think the girls would be good for you,” he said. “At least, some of them. You stick with the old
ladies. Don’t want you around the others. But this friends-with-benefits shit? Not happenin’, Soph. Put that outta your mind, got me?”
“Why not?” I demanded, outraged. “You screw everything that moves. Why can’t I?”
“Because you’re a mother,” he said, his voice almost a growl. “You got no business f*ckin’ around like that. I’m serious.”
“I’m a mother, but I’m not dead,” I said, rolling my eyes. “Don’t worry, I won’t let Noah meet
someone unless it’s serious. But I’m ready for a little fun. Horse is hot, and if any of the other guys in your club are like him—even a little—they’d be perfect for me. Don’t give me shit about it, either. I know you guys f*ck around. Why shouldn’t I?”
“Those are sweetbutts and club whores,” he said, his voice hard. “They’re trash. No f*ckin’ way you’re gonna be one of them. Not happening, Soph.”
“You aren’t my boss.”
“You sound like a goddamned fourteen-year-old,” he replied, eyes narrowing.
“At least I don’t sound like an overprotective father,” I snapped. “You’re not my dad, Ruger.”
He reached out and caught me behind the neck, jerking me into his body. Then he dropped his
mouth down to my ear, my face so close to his chest I could’ve licked him.
“Trust me, I’m well aware I’m not your father,” he said. His nose traced the curve of my ear, the
warmth of his breath sending a shiver through me. “If I was, they’d throw my ass in jail for the shit I
think about you.”
I raised my hands, sliding them up along his sides, tracing the line of his muscles before bringing them in to graze his nipples. I couldn’t help myself—I leaned forward and flicked his piercing with my tongue. Ruger groaned, and his fingers tightened in my hair. His entire body tensed, and then I felt the brush of his cock against my stomach.
Holy hell.
My nipples peaked and the flesh between my legs spasmed. I shifted restlessly. One of his hands slid down my back, past my shorts and panties, to cup my bare ass. His fingers tensed as I licked his nipple again, then sucked the ring into my mouth.
“Jesus …” he groaned. “You got two seconds before I lay you over that table and f*ck you so hard it breaks. Swear to God, Soph. You wanna tell me how we’re gonna explain that to Noah? ’Cause I got
shit. I’m not lookin’ to marry you and I sure as f*ck won’t hand you my dick on a leash, so things
could get weird fast, babe.”
I froze, shivering, feeling moisture soak my panties. I wanted to hump his leg like a bitch in heat, desperate for anything to fill the emptiness inside me.
Instead I pulled away from him slowly. His hand slid free of my shorts and we stepped apart, eyes boring into each other.
“F*ck,” Ruger muttered, running a hand through his hair. He looked away from me. The front of his pants bulged outward, his cock so hard I saw the thick head clearly outlined. I wondered what he’d do if I knelt down, pulling his pants low so I could run my tongue around the tip before sucking him deep into my mouth. It actually watered at the thought.
Desire speared me like a weapon. I sighed, licking my lips.
“I’m gonna get another beer,” Ruger said harshly. I looked up from his cock to his face to find his eyes glued to my chest. Shit. I was still wearing the damned Barbie tank, which left nothing to the imagination. My suitcase sat in his car.
“Grab me one, too,” I replied, my voice shaking.
“Sure that’s a good idea?”
I looked at him and shook my head. His chest rose and fell too fast, his dark eyes almost fully dilated. He swallowed and I rubbed my hand against the top of my thigh, restless and hungry. The steady motion caught his eye and he swallowed again.
“No, but I want one anyway.”
I walked unsteadily across the deck to a lounger and lay back on it, limp and full of need so intense
I thought I might die. The sun had set, and the evening stars had started coming out somewhere along
the line. I should go back down to my little apartment. I knew that. Instead I closed my eyes and
thought about how much I wanted to reach down between my legs and rub my * until I blew up right
in front of him.
Something cold touched my cheek.
I opened my eyes to find Ruger standing over me, eyes intense. They slid slowly across my body. Impossibly, the bulge in his pants was larger. God, it’d be so easy to just reach out and take him into my hand, feel that hard length for myself. Or I could sit up and lean my head forward, letting my cheek touch him through the soft fabric. I couldn’t take my eyes off it.
I rose until my face was only a few inches away from his crotch. Then I looked up at him, wondering if I’d lost my mind.
“Here’s your beer,” he said roughly, holding it out to me. I took it and wrapped my mouth around the neck for a drink, holding his gaze.
I hated him for being sober and in control.
“Jesus, Sophie …” he groaned. “Don’t f*ckin’ look at me like that.”
“Like what?” I asked him, catching a drip on the side with my tongue.
“Don’t play stupid,” he whispered. “If you don’t stop I’m gonna f*ck you. We’ll both regret that tomorrow. You’re drunk.”
I tilted my head to the side, thoughtful.
“Are you?” I asked him.
“What?”
“Drunk?”
He shook his head slowly, sinking down to sit next to me. He leaned over, scenting my neck. We weren’t touching at all, but just the warmth of his breath on my skin almost killed me. I took another drink of my beer, slow and deliberate.
His eyes burned a hole right through me.
“No,” he whispered. “I’m not drunk.”
“Then what’s your excuse?” I asked softly. “Mine’s alcohol. Whatever I do tonight, I can blame the beer. What excuse should we use for you?”
Ruger reached over and took the bottle from my hand, setting it on the deck.
“No more tonight,” he said, his voice cracking. “You’re done. We’re done. We’re not doing this. Got me?”
“Yeah,” I said, forcing myself to think past the buzz. I knew he was right. Noah needed us both, and we had enough trouble getting along already. I was going to be living in his basement, for God’s sake, and it wasn’t like he hadn’t been clear—he wanted to f*ck me. No heart, no flowers, no dates, and
definitely no commitments. At least I wasn’t just a piece of furniture anymore.
“Can I ask you something?”
“What?” he replied. I swallowed.
“Is this a new thing for you?”
“I don’t follow,” he said, glancing at me. His eyes pierced mine, the warm night air hanging heavy
between us.
“Wanting me,” I said softly. “Is it a new thing for you? I mean, aside from … back then … I always assumed that was just a moment, you know? You always looked right through me.”
“It’s not a new thing.”
We sat together, neither moving, frogs chirping all around us. After a while he reached up and rubbed the back of his neck, like he had in the car.
“You still sore?”
He nodded. “Yeah, I kinked it somehow last night while I was driving. Stupid.” “Want me to rub it for you?” I asked him.
“No f*ckin’ way you’re touching me,” he said. “We covered that already. I’m not drunk, Soph. I won’t f*ck things up for Noah.”
“We’re not going to f*ck up anything,” I told him. “I’m getting sober now, it’s okay. I took a
massage class, though. I’m actually pretty good at it. Let me help you. You’ve done so much to help me, I feel like I owe you something.”
“Not a good idea.”
I rolled my eyes, and bumped his shoulder with mine. “Chicken?” I asked, smiling at him.
“Jesus, you’re annoying,” he muttered, but he didn’t protest when I crawled behind him. I ignored
the screaming need between my legs as I knelt up and put my fingers on his shoulders. They were hard and strong, soft skin stretched over sleek muscles more than capable of supporting him while he
pounded into my body.
Unfortunately, it was too dark for me to see much of his tattoos, which was a damned shame. Ruger
wasn’t shy about taking off his shirt, but I never got close enough to really scope them out.
I dug my fingers in and he groaned, head dropping forward. He wasn’t kidding about being tight,
either. Big knots snarled his neck and shoulders. After a few minutes of going at them with my
fingers, I started using my elbows. Slowly I got his neck to relax and started moving down his back.
“Lay down on your stomach,” I told him, sliding off the side of the lounger behind him. I flattened
it. He didn’t move.
“You really are chicken,” I murmured. “I’m just going to give you a back rub, Ruger. Enjoy it for what it is, okay?”
He grunted and rolled onto his stomach. I leaned over him and went to work. Some of the knots just wouldn’t give, so I decided to climb on top of him to get good leverage.
Was this stupid?
Of course. Did I care?
Not one drunken bit.
I straddled his butt, enjoying the feel of his hard body between my legs and his skin under my
fingers. He smelled fresh and clean, but still utterly male. Drove me crazy. With every stroke of my hands I rode him, not getting quite enough stimulation to satisfy me, but enough that when I felt a light beading of sweat break out, it definitely wasn’t from the effort of giving the massage.
At first he tensed, but slowly he gave in to it, each muscle group relaxing in turn. Finally my hands were tired and we were both limp. I lay down across his back, taking in his scent, the warm summer breeze just enough to keep me from overheating.
“Soph …” he said, his voice a warning.
“Don’t, Ruger,” I whispered. “It doesn’t mean anything. Just let it be, all right?” He sighed, and silence fell between us.
I was still frustrated, no question. But it was a strange, relaxed kind of sexual desire washing
through me now. Night sounds surrounded us and I let myself enjoy the feel of Ruger’s body under
mine, wishing I really could have a man like this—strong, steady, and capable of protecting me from
anything.
If Ruger were mine, I’d be safe. Always.
“It’ll be okay, Sophie,” he murmured softly, sounding half asleep. “I promise.”
I didn’t answer, because I didn’t believe him. Instead I dozed off. The next thing I remembered was him lifting me and carrying me down to my bed.