The Biker and the Loner (Oil and Water #3)- S. Ann Cole Page 0,70
to be making it up,” I say. “I mean, I do remember Ranger’s bottle party, and I do remember Grunt yelling at Jewel for…” I frown, trying to remember. “What was he yelling at her for again…? I can’t remember.”
“For giving you absinthe. You took a shot when you were already drunk and were about to take another one before he stopped you.”
“Oh, yeah,” I murmur, only vaguely remembering. I honestly don’t remember anything after Grunt yelling at Jewel.
“If that's all true, then I said that while I was really drunk, so it doesn’t count.”
“It counts,” he presses, “because only when the mind and tongue are loose does the real truth come out.”
“Whatever,” I mutter. But I believe him, because I’ve been in love with him before that night. And if my hazy memory serves me right, I’d taken those shots from Jewel because I was jealous of the two women he was making out with that night. And maybe, subconsciously, I’d tried to keep him from going back to the party to those women on purpose. “That still doesn’t mean I love you now.”
His grin is so smug I want to smack it off his face. “You never stopped, Peach.”
Sliding his hand up under my dress and to the center of my thighs, he brings his mouth to my ear and whispers, “And guess what?”
“W-What?” I gasp out when his fingers dip inside my panties.
“You did exactly what you said you would.” He nips my earlobe as his fingers glide through my heat. “You made me fall in love with you.”
~
Scratch makes love to my body but my mind he thoroughly screws. There’s a lot of lost time to make up for, so we do. We take our time, savoring every touch, every kiss. He whispers how much he misses me. I whimper how much I need him.
After, we lay wrapped around each other like entwined vines, smelling each other’s skin.
“Those marks on your wrist…?” he asks after a long moment of quietude.
I inhale a lungful of hair. In the heat of the moment, I’d forgotten about the marks. “They’re Kathy related. I was cutting. I was messed up.” I breathe out a sigh before adding, “But I’m not anymore. The girls forced me into rehab. I got the help I needed. Like I told you earlier, I have a therapy session once a week.”
“The girls?”
“Yeah. Kendra found out, then rallied Cookie and Toni. They ambushed me.”
“Good,” he says firmly. “And you’re sure you’re okay? How can I help? What can I do?”
I trace my fingers along the cut muscles of his biceps. “I’m okay, I promise. My therapist is really good.”
He takes my chin and tilts it upward so our gazes meet. “I’m choosing to believe you, Peach. So you better not be lying to me.”
“I’m not.”
His eyes roam mine, searching for a lie. Seemingly satisfied with what he finds, he lets go of my chin and relaxes. “Okay.”
“Tell me about this new job of yours.” I try to pinch him but barely succeed since there’s no loose skin to be found on this man. “When do you start?”
“Effective immediately. I go in when I’m needed. Which can be at any time—whether it’s three in the afternoon or three in the morning. There are no set hours.”
“Huh? What the hell kind of job is that? Are you a surgeon now or something?”
He chuckles, his chest vibrating with the sound. “Commando.”
“What does a ‘commando’ do?”
“Um…” He trails off for a long moment as if debating whether or not to tell me.
“Is it dangerous?” I press.
“No.” His answer is so swift that I know he’s lying. “Think search and rescue. Emergency response team, that kinda stuff.”
I breathe out a heavy sigh. “Remind me to give you back Papà’s chain.”
He bursts out laughing.
“I can tell you’re excited about it, so I won’t tell you that I don’t like it,” I say, rubbing the sole of my foot along his calf. “But just promise me you’ll always come back to me in one piece from this so-called ‘search and rescue’ job.”
“Promise.”
“I need to tell you something.”
His body goes rigid. “You didn’t kiss another man, did you? Because I didn’t mean that hall pass shit. I’ll kill him, whoever he is. I’ll fucking kill him.”
“Simmer down,” I admonish through a laugh. “Why are you always in the mood to kill someone?”
“Only when it comes to you,” he argues. “You’re my baby.”
“No, I didn’t kiss anyone,” I assure him. “But I did rent a space in town. I’m going to open a breakfast restaurant.”
“Yeah?” He shifts and props his head up in one palm, looking down at me with a proud grin. “Finally figured out what you wanna do, huh?”
“Yes, but....” I trail off and bite my lip, wondering if it’s too soon. Not for me, but for him. I know this is what I want, but does he? Will he be ready?
“But what?”
“The restaurant is only part of what I want,” I say tentatively. “Temporary, even.”
His expression sobers, and he reaches down to sweep hair from my forehead. “Tell me.”
“I want…um…” Oh, just say it! “I want to start a family,” I blurt. “Three to four kids. Five if you’re up for it. I just...I want to start fresh, considering...you know. I’ve thought about it long and hard, what I want to do with my life, and it’s what I keep coming back to: becoming a mom. Starting a family of my own. Keeping Papà alive by loving them the way he loved me…”
“Damn,” he grunts with widened eyes. “It’s a good thing I got a new job. That’s five college tuitions, bruh.”
A giggle flutters from me. I don’t tell him about my enormous inheritance. Toni advised me not to until we were married. She divulged Grunt still doesn’t know her net worth and he won’t know until they tie the knot.
“People are people, you know? Fallible,” she’d said. “No matter how much you think you know someone, they can still surprise you. And money, it brings out the worse in most. So, lifetime commitment first.”
I tell Scratch, “I think we’ll be fine.”
His expression becomes thoughtful, glazed with wistfulness. “Is adoption on the table?”
Right away, I know this is important to him as much as starting a family is important to me. He’d grown up in a shitty foster home, and by adopting, he would be able to give those kids the love he never received.
“Of course,” I answer. “We can try for two of our own and adopt three. A Kenny, a Grunt, and a Scratch.”
“A Kendra, a Nero, and a Landon,” he corrects. “We’re all saved now. We’re all...loved. We don’t need to be those rebels anymore.”
“Okay, so….” I bite my lip, eyeing him nervously. “You’re in?”
In answer, he rolls me onto my back and falls between my thighs, which instinctively widens to accommodate his big frame. He cups my jaw with one hand and crushes his mouth to mine, while his other hand palms my breast.
Then, when I’m slick with fresh arousal, he guides himself inside me. Bareback.
He breaks our kiss and gazes down at me with so much love and adoration as he glides out, then right back in, buried to the hilt. And with a slow, sexy smile, he whispers, “I’m so in.”
Thank you for reading!
Other books in this series:
The Biker and the Professor
The Biker and the Gamer
The Biker and the Baker
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