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Exhaling hard, feeling like I was invading his privacy, I went into Detroit’s nightstands.
I lucked out, finding a box that was still good.
I took out one, putting it in the other nightstand, making sure we had them in easy reach.
Then, when the sounds of voices rose, sounding more friendly than work-related, I took a deep breath, and made my way downstairs.
All the while wondering if Detroit could sense what was coming.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Detroit
“You alright?” Coach asked as he drove the SUV out of the driveway.
Granted, Coach was intuitive.
But there was also no mistaking my mood right then.
I was fucking aching with need for the woman who had her hand wrapped around my cock just moments before, whose pussy was squeezing my fingers, and whose lips were against my skin.
I wanted her to keep stroking me until I came.
I also wanted to pick her up, press her against the wall, and slide my cock into her tight pussy, feeling her walls close around me, hearing her moans as I stretched her, as I made her mine.
And then I couldn’t have any of that.
I never expected, when I’d rushed back in to grab my phone, that I would find Everleigh in the tub. And I damn sure couldn’t have imagined that she would be in that tub with her hand between her thighs. Or that she wouldn’t want me to leave, that she wanted me to watch, then participate.
I’d been in a rush, or I probably wouldn’t have burst in at all.
But when Slash said our next prospect was getting out almost immediately, it meant we had to hustle.
The disappointment, though, yeah, that was making me surly.
“Fine,” I said. “Just wasn’t expecting this today,” I admitted. Which was true. None of us were. We were anticipating Riff and Raff coming with a drop of weapons. But not having to go meet and talk to this guy.
Because it wasn’t like we could approach them in prison with the offer of becoming an outlaw biker. We had to do it once they were free.
It was usually Judge, Sway, or Crow doing this shit. Judge, because he’d been that unsuspecting guy walking out of prison one day only to be met by one of us. Sway and Crow because they were just more personable than I was.
But Judge, Sway, and Crow were busy with their women or their kids now. Which meant Coach got to act as the ex-con mentor. And I had to try to be the fucking welcome wagon. When all I could think about was the soft feel of Everleigh’s skin, the moans as I touched her, the way her hands felt greedy as they moved over me.
“The party’ll be good, though,” Coach said. “With Riff and Raff in town too.”
I didn’t even get a chance to tell Everleigh about that, either.
I knew how she felt about her sleep.
And this would be the first night that she would have to endure a club party. Which, from personal experience, I knew could be impossible to try to sleep through.
“That him?” Coach asked, jerking his chin toward where a man was walking down the street from the prison.
He was still a ways off, but he seemed to fit the picture we had of him.
Colter was a tank of a man with dirty blond hair and a beard. Though the beard wasn’t as long now as it had been for his mugshot. The prison probably had rules about facial hair length for identification purposes.
Coach swung the SUV up a few yards ahead of the guy, and we each climbed out our doors, waiting for him to approach.
