The drive to Merrick’s cleared my head a little. I decided to park at the clubhouse beside Hatchet’s bike and walked the path to Merrick’s house. As I stepped onto the porch, I smoothed my dress and forced Luca’s voice out of my mind.
The kitchen thrummed with country music, and the smell of fajitas filled the air. Hatchet leaned against the counter, his easy stance tensing the second I walked in. He tracked me like prey as I kicked off my sandals and crossed the room to get a Shiner Bock from the fridge. I brushed against him as I passed by, my fingers grazing his front. I grinned when I heard his sharp intake of breath.
“Smells amazing,” I said to Kenna. “Do you need help?”
“I got it covered. I was just about to warm up the tortillas. Why don’t you and Hatchet set the table? Merrick should be back in a few.”
I pressed the stack of plates into Hatchet’s hands before grabbing the silverware. He followed me to the heavy oak table, eyeing me as Ideliberately grazed against him to lay down forks and knives beside the plates.
“Merci,” he said in a low warning.
I shot him an innocent smile. “What?”
His gaze burned through me. “You pull any shit tonight, you’re going to pay for it later.”
I batted my eyelashes up to him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I ran a hand down his chest and watched as his muscles tensed as I hit the cool edge of his belt buckle.
A creak sounded, letting us know that the screen door was opening. Heavy bootsteps followed, and Hatchet stepped away to greet my brother.
Once dinner was served, I dropped into the chair next to Hatchet and scooted mine a deliberate inch closer so our thighs pressed under the tablecloth. He pointedly ignored me.
I placed my napkin on my lap and lifted his in the air, dangling it in front of him. “Don’t be a savage. Put your napkin in your lap so you don’t end up covered in salsa.”
He rolled his eyes but obliged.
“How’s the planning coming along for the women’s center?” I asked Kenna as I piled my plate with lettuce, tomato, chicken, and salsa to make a salad.
Kenna grinned. “I think we found a location. Reaper’s going to take a look. And Eva already got a tech company to donate a bunch of computers for the lab.”
Merrick started a line of questioning about the safety of the area, and I tuned him out as I glanced sideways at Hatchet. Both of his large hands were wrapped around a taco.
I shoved a bite of salad into my mouth and let my other hand drift under the table. My fingers traced up his inner thigh in a slow, teasing touch. He glared at me in warning, but I pretended to be engrossed in Kenna and Merrick’s conversation.
I ran my fingers around the hard ridge beneath thedenim and suppressed a grin. He tensed and, when a grunt sounded in his chest, Kenna glanced at him in question.
“Good?” Kenna asked, mistaking the sound of pleasure for one about food instead of lust.
“Fucking delicious,” Hatchet deadpanned. “As always.”
I watched Hatchet’s jaw flex as I squeezed the bulge in his pants. He sucked in a sharp breath as I slipped my hand beneath the napkin and slowly worked the zipper of his jeans.
He stuffed the rest of the taco into his mouth and dropped his hand under the table to squeeze my wrist in warning. I pulled my hand away, walking my fingers down, tracing small patterns on his thigh.
He reached for the salsa and topped his second taco with it. Once I was sure his hands were occupied, I reached for the zipper again. I made quick work of pulling it down and slipped my hand into his pants.
I heard his breath suck in as I began to stroke his cock from base to tip, circling my thumb over the top to spread the moisture that had already leaked out.
“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, biting into the taco.
Merrick shifted his gaze to him in question.
“Spicy,” Hatchet explained, taking another bite. He reached for his beer and gulped down a few swallows.
I pumped him steadily, as fast as I dared to avoid notice. Fortunately, Kenna continued to talk, sharing details with Merrick about a recent call with her friend, Haven—the old lady of Serpent and Jaguar, the leaders of the Red Rock Riot MC in New Mexico.
His breath hitched as Kenna laughed, the sound covering his groan right as a clatter sounded in the kitchen.
Kenna swore. “Brisket got on the counter again.”
