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Wilde dropped his arms. “All right.” He shook his head, then leveled his gaze back on my brother. “She seemed familiar. And knew my name. Just fuckin’ weird, but if she’s from LA and runs in drug circles, it’s possible she knows me from around town.”
“No way,” I snapped. He may have decided otherwise, but something stank. “That bitch fucking knows you. She picked you out. What the fuck is going on, Wilde?” I crossed my arms “She tied to AX3?”
“What the fuck makes you think that?” asked Wilde.
Celt hovered closer, seeming to grow larger as he did.
I held a hand up to keep him at bay. Wilde wasn’t going to hurt me. After popping Luke a week ago and after this morning, I knew that much. In fact, I saw the same protective flare in his eyes that I’d seen so often in my brother’s. I straightened, holding my gaze on Wilde’s, and planted my balled fists on my hips. “Think it’s about time you told me why some skanky whore has gotten you so riled up.”
“It doesn’t matter,” he said and pushed past me.
Celt stepped forward, readying himself to give me another of his scoldings. I rolled my eyes. Before he could utter a word, I said, “I got this. Go back to the party.”
I caught up to Wilde easily and blocked his path toward his bike with a hand on his shirt. His chiseled abs contracted beneath the thin cotton. Celt, not listening as usual, flew to my side. I glared up at him. “Not. Fucking. Now.”
He searched my face for a hot second then searched Wilde’s expression. When Wilde closed his eyes, releasing some of his tension under my touch, Celt shook his head and pointed. “I don’t know what’s going on here, but take that shit to one of the cabins. Don’t need you to stir up shit. And we sure as fuck don’t ride after partying out here.”
I looked over to the collection of small cabins that had been up here longer than I’d been alive. I didn’t expect Wilde to follow Celt’s instruction, but he grabbed my hand and pulled me to the cabin Celt had pointed to. It was dark inside the cabin, but after so much partying out here in the hills, I knew the small rooms like the back of my hand. I closed the door behind us. A dim red-orange glow flickered through the window. I turned and pressed my hand to the center of his chest, backing him up against the wall.
“Bou—”
“No!”
I crashed my lips to his, taking out my frustration by fucking his mouth. We’d communicated through our bodies so well that morning, and I needed a way to break through. He moaned into the kiss, so low and deep, it felt like a train chugging heavily down tracks as it picked up speed. I kissed him harder, nipping his lower lip, moaning too as I tasted the beer and spice that was all Wilde.
“Fuck, Bou,” he breathed when our mouths separated.
His arms encircled me. He lifted me, pressing his hips away from the wall so I could wrap my legs around his waist. I happily complied. His rock-fucking-solid dick teased at my core through our jeans. The barrier was good because I wasn’t about to rush this. As he sank into that angry kiss, I put both hands on his shoulders and pushed back from him, leaving him straining forward for more.
My lungs expanded as I gasped greedily for air, huffed, and said, “I’ve knownsince the night you fucking crashed at my doorstep. I’ve known you were on the run. Now, you’re sure as shit going to tell me what that whore out there has to do with it.”
His lips reached for my mouth again, but I tilted my chin up. His wet lips grazed my neck just under my jaw. He groaned his frustration and leaned his head down, biting me near the nipple through the thin material of my tank. I squeaked—yeah, I fucking squeaked like a mouse it hurt so good. But his attempts to distract me weren’t going to work.
“Tell me,” I demanded.
He forced out a breath. “I don’t fucking know. She was at the club the night it all went down with the gang and I decided to... I don’t fucking know who she is or how she’s related.”
I moved my lips right to his ear and whispered, “What happened?”
He growled. “It’s nothing you need to worry over. Just some shit I have to get cleared up once I get this brick off my leg. All I did to the AX3 was protect what’s fucking mine.” His voice grew deadly when he added, “Like I always protect what’s mine.”
“Meaning?” I pressed seductively at his ear and ground my hips against his massive erection. Hell yeah, I was using my body to drive my point home. I wanted this man—fucking all of him. And damnit, I could handle whatever shit he was wrapped up in. Celt had said something about taxes, a likely indicator Wilde had some operation dealing. The Azusa 13 prison and street gangs were notorious for, among many other illegal and illicit crimes, “taxing” small time dealers on their turf. I’d been around that shit all my life in The Ridge. I’d seen so many use, abuse, and fall off the face of the earth. The strong ones, though, stayed on the edges of clean and walked that fucking line. They might partake, like Celt was tonight, but they didn’t sink into the black abyss where nothing else fucking mattered. Wilde—if he was in the same game—had clearly never turned junkie, or he’d have fucking eaten up the Oxy Doc had left for his leg or he’d have gone into hard withdrawal within a day or two of being in my shop. None of that had happened.
Wilde dropped his hands to cup my ass and rested his head back against the wall with a low rumble deep in his throat. “This shit can wait.”
He ground his cock against me, and my breath hitched. He ran his hands over my ass on the outside of my jeans and leaned in, pressing open-mouth kisses on my collarbone and up my neck. One of his hands drifted under the waistband of my jeans and into my panties. “Fuck, Bou, you’re drenched.”
Smiling, I wrapped my arms around his neck and ran my fingers through his hair. It was getting a bit too long at the back of his head—well, too long for his look—but almost long enough to grab onto. My fingers clenched, desperately trying to do just that.
“More fucking. Less talking,” he demanded, plunging his hand into my hair at the back of my neck, fisting it, and pulling hard enough to drive a whimper from my lips.
“Okay,” I gasped. “Later-ah-you’re fucking coming clean.”
“Later,” he growled and forced my face to his. “Right now, I plan to own your mouth and then... that pretty little pussy of yours.”
I opened my lips to his hot tongue, loving and fucking devouring the rough but velvety feel. Our kiss was anything but gentle. It was feral. It clawed, fought, and writhed. That kiss was fucking starving and needed to be fed more than it needed air to breathe. It wasn’t a give and take. It was take and take and take some fucking more.
This morning had been about healing. This was angry, pure lust. I smelled myself and him and us. I wanted our goddamn clothes off. I wanted our naked bodies writhing together. My stomach clenched. My pussy pulsated in yearning for this man’s cock to sink deep inside me. Empty, I felt so empty, and I needed to be filled, stretched to my limits.
