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“Oh, baby, you’re all woman; that’s for sure.” He holds up his hands in surrender. “I promise to never question the need for chocolate or impede on your ability to have said chocolate again.”
I smile at him. “Now we’re getting somewhere.”
If only that somewhere would relieve the lust I feel and if only the brownies could promise to fix that … Alas, they don’t, but they damn sure help me get through today a little more easily.
~Hammer~
“Stop hogging the remote, woman, and give it to me!”
It’s been five days since Desirae moved in, and things have mellowed between us. She taught me the hard way through my training sessions that she knows how to give as good as she takes. To top it off, there is something about her that has melted my icy resolve to be an asshole around her.
There is never a moment with her when I feel as if she is only being nice to me because she feels like she has to or because she pities me. Over the years, I have developed a pretty damn good bullshit meter, but she never trips it. Her words are always genuine when she asks me how I’m really feeling, and honestly, she’s the best roommate I have ever had, not to mention the sexiest.
This is a problem because I know I should keep my hands off her. She isn’t just here to help me get back on my feet; she is hiding out to save her life. It wouldn’t be right to take advantage of the situation … but damn if I don’t want to.
A knock sounds on my door, and we both look over at it. Desirae then looks back at me sitting comfortably on the couch instead of my wheelchair. “Want me to get it?”
“Hold on a second, babe.” Whipping out my cell phone, I pull up the feed to the security camera that is trained on my front door.
You better believe, the moment Screech signed on to our team, I put his ass to work setting up security systems at all the brothers’ places. You can’t live the kind of life all of us have—first in the military and now crossing over the legal line—without pissing a few people off.
It’s not hard to figure out who is at my door, because the screen fills with the image of Coal from the back. Between his bald head, six-foot plus gigantic frame, and his Regulators’ cut, there is no mistaking him.
Nodding my head to the door, I tell Des, “You can answer it.”
She cocks an eyebrow at me yet doesn’t say a word. Going to the door, she opens it and gives Coal a big grin.
“Why hello there, Mr. Clean! It’s nice to see you, but I’ve already cleaned the place with Pine-Sol. Sorry!”
I try to smother my laugh but am completely unsuccessful, which is why Coal flips me the bird as he walks through the door.
“Thought I’d stop by and see if you two need anything before I head home.”
Desirae doesn’t miss a beat. “Yes, I’d like a large, stuffed-crust pepperoni pizza with a two-liter diet soda.”
My club brother shoots my sassy roommate a glare that makes most men cower in their fucking boots. Not Des. She just stands there with a big, innocent grin on her face.
“I’m not your fucking pizza delivery boy.”
“Then what are you?”
“The only thing between you and the motherfuckers who want to make you quit breathing.”
Desirae’s face goes pale, and a haze of red covers my vision.
“Yo!” I shout in Coal’s direction.
He turns his head toward me, and I can immediately tell from the look in his eye that he knows he went too far, not that he will apologize to Des. He’s too proud, which is one of his fucking problems.
“It was good of you to stop by, man, but we’re good here.” That’s my nice way of telling him to get the fuck out. He has the best of intentions, but in usual Coal style, he saw two legs attached to a pussy and decided he should act like a dick. One of these days, I’m going to find out exactly what his fucking problem with women is.
Coal doesn’t say a word. With a dismissive wave, he walks out the front door, slamming it behind him.
Desirae is still standing in the same spot, looking like she has seen a ghost. Ironically, in a way, she has. Coal is only a ghost of the man he could have been.
I motion her over to me. “Come here, Drill Sergeant. I’ve got this big, ol’ couch to myself, and I’m cold. Warm me up, woman.”
My order snaps her out of whatever head space she was in, and she cocks a disbelieving eyebrow at me. “You want me to cuddle with you?”
Sighing in mock frustration, I groan, “Why do women insist on saying the C-word? I said I want you to warm me up. If that involves you being tucked into my side to do that, why can’t we just leave it at that?”
