background? It was nice that Darby had said “us,” meaning Torpedo Ink and all of them, but ultimately, she would be the one responsible for any child they took on.
“Not this child,” Steele qualified. “It’s too soon. Zane has to get to know me. And I can see by Blythe’s face that she isn’t about to give this new boy up.”
Blythe burst out laughing, but then it slowly faded, and she was looking at them all with a sober face. “No, I won’t give him up. Czar showed me the video of him in that horrible little room. I really can’t get him out of my mind. Darby feels the same way, don’t you?”
Darby nodded. “We have to find him and bring him home with us.”
“We will,” Lana said. “These things take time and you just have to wait for the right tiny bit of information. That’s what we’re doing for both Zane and this little boy.”
“It feels like it takes forever,” Darby complained. “I guess I just want them safe.”
Breezy sent her a faint, knowing smile. “I understand exactly what that feels like.” Steele wasn’t going anywhere, and she wasn’t going to make a fuss in Blythe’s kitchen, so she leaned her head back against his chest while she worked. She should have protested his “old lady” reference, but what difference did it make how much she protested? It wasn’t helping get her son home.
“We all do, honey,” Alena said.
Anya stuck her head into the kitchen. She’d gone out to make certain everything was ready for the meal. “Tables are set and ready. The boys want to know what else you need done. Well, with the exception of Kenny. He says he’s on strike and no matter what you say, he won’t help.”
Darby snickered when Blythe looked to her for an explanation. “He’s mad because I told him he had to set the table and he thinks that’s a girl’s job. Women’s work. You know what a chauvinist he is.”
“All the boys set the table,” Blythe pointed out.
“Doesn’t matter, Blythe,” Darby said. “He just wants out of work.”
Anya laughed. “I want out of work. I’ll go tell him to follow Reaper around and make certain he doesn’t get into any trouble. The man was born for trouble.” Her soft laughter faded as she walked away.
Breezy liked them. She liked the way they interacted with one another. The way they all pitched in to help. She didn’t want to like anything about them. They belonged to Steele, and even if the club was everything he’d said they were—and she counted on that to be fact—she wouldn’t take the man back. She just couldn’t. There was no living through another heartbreak.
She kept her head down and finished taking the peel off the last of the potatoes while talk swirled around her. She was conscious of every breath Steele took. Of the masculine way he smelled. Of his colors worn so perfectly on his body. It fit him to be MC. He was hot enough and masculine enough to need three women not one …
“Stop it, Bree, or I’m going to put my mouth on yours, and then I’m not responsible for what happens.” His teeth tugged at her earlobe as his voice whispered in her ear.
She turned her head, smiled up at him, circling his neck with one arm to bring his head down so she could reach his ear. “You never are responsible for what happens when it comes to women, are you?” She kept her voice sweet, trying her best not to allow him to see how much that had hurt.
She went to turn her head, keeping her lashes lowered so he couldn’t read her expression, but his hand was there, under her chin, preventing movement. His mouth came down on hers and then he was just possessing her. Taking her over. Leaving her with nothing of herself because she’d burned up in the fire he generated.
The sounds of men’s voices and laughter faded away. The noises of the kitchen receded. There was only Steele and the heat of his mouth, the commanding way he kissed, demanding her surrender in the way it always had. If he had put her on the counter and ripped her clothes off right there, she would have let him. Nothing mattered but him. It was Steele. Her man. It didn’t seem to matter how many roadblocks she threw up—and rightfully so. It didn’t matter how many times she told herself she had to