Blood & Rust (Lock & Key #4) (12 page)

“Hell, woman, that’s a relief.”

I grabbed my messenger bag and slugged his side with it, and he laughed.

“Are you sure, Tania?”

“Yes.”

He gestured toward the bathroom. “I need to take a shower. You want to get in there first?”

“Oh no, go right ahead. I’m sure being on a bike all day…”

“Yeah.” He slid his gun from his back, his blond hair in his face.

My pulse skipped a beat.

Butler was beautiful and rough around the edges. Holding that sleek yet ominous chrome gun, he was a menacing rogue, a sleek mercenary, a brutal angel heralding danger, deliverance, and the fulfillment of dark vows and dreadful promises.

He placed the gun on the nightstand, settled on the edge of the bed, and took his boots off.

I’d enjoyed our conversations today. Tomorrow, we would both be back in Meager, jump-starting our new lives. Hopefully, we could continue with this new, improved friendship.

Within ten minutes, Butler emerged from the steam-filled bathroom with only a towel wrapped around his waist. His broad, defined chest was still damp. Water dripped down his smooth skin from his wet hair, which fell just below his ears. His long legs were contoured with hard muscles. I was in the presence of male greatness.

I shot up from the bed, beauty bag in hand. “I’m going to take a shower, too.”

He let out a long sigh, his one hand stroking down his middle. “Felt great.”

My breath caught in my throat at the sight of that small movement. He was like some sort of vibrant energy force filling this dinky, bland motel room. He checked his cell phone, and his skin glowed in the dim light given off by the small lamp on the nightstand, the shiny metal of his weapon glinting.

I scooped up my PJs and darted off to the bathroom.

After my shower, I smoothed lotion on my skin and put on my thin cotton pajama shorts along with a loose-fitting cotton tee on top of the camisole that matched the shorts.

Butler was lying on his stomach under the covers of the bed. The skin of his bare back shimmered in the soft light.

Is he naked under there?

Oh, shut up.

Taking in a deep breath, I turned away from the visual of Mr. Hunk of Blond Steel in Repose and deposited my clothes on top of my duffel bag on the floor. I trotted off to my side of the bed, sliding under the covers. The air-conditioning was set to perfectly cool.

“Tania?” His gruff throaty voice made my insides jump to attention.

“Yeah?”

“That thing with the condoms?”

“What about it?”

“That really is pathetic.”

I grabbed a pillow and threw it at his head.

He roared with laughter. “Hey! Being honest.”

“Are you enjoying my humiliation?”

He grabbed the pillow and propped his head on it over folded arms. Arms that screamed strength. Arms that were muscular, defined, and emitting gamma rays of pure male power.

What would it feel like to be held by those arms? Held tightly?

“No, I’m not enjoying your humiliation.” A small smile played on his lips as he raised himself up on an arm, resting his head on it. “It sucks.”

“Ah, you’re showing your support then? Your compassion?”

“That’s right.”

“Great. Now, shut up. I don’t want to talk about it ever again.” I stared at the ceiling.

“I’m glad you shared it with me.” His voice had softened.

“Why? So, you can continue to tease me? Fantastic.”

“No, I meant, because you trusted me. Means a lot.”

I turned to face him across the bed. Butler was thanking me for a gesture of friendship. For my frankness. My fingers curled in the top sheet.

“You want to hear more?” I asked.

“Sure.”

“Kyle used to change the topic of conversation anytime things got too real between us or if I tried to delve too deep. Handling emotions took a lot of effort. When I got upset at the news of my mom being diagnosed with MS, he only patted me on the back. I guess it made him uncomfortable to reach out and support me while I skidded.”

“Maybe he doesn’t know how.”

I lifted my head up on my arm. “But that’s what I wanted. What I needed. Was I asking for too much?”

“No, you weren’t. Is that what you think? You weren’t. What’s the point if you can’t be there for your partner?”

I only let out a sigh.

That’s over now, and I made that happen.

“I appreciate you listening to my whining.”

“You aren’t whining. You’re not a whiner. I think you’re a shut-up-and-put-up-with-it kind of girl. And you know what, Tania? You shouldn’t have to be that way.”

No, I shouldn’t. And he knew that.
Butler
knew that. But I’d made it a lifestyle, even before Kyle.

I smoothed down my pillow. “Thank you for listening.”

He touched my arm, a lock of his blond hair falling in his eye with the movement. “Glad I could help.” The warmth of his fingertips on my skin lingered.

“I’ll shut up now and let you get sleep.” I let out a sigh. “I’m exhausted myself. What a long day.”

He turned over, facing me, his hair falling in his face once again. “It was fun. Except for Pick coming at us, of course.” His hand curled lightly over my upper arm. “How are you doing with that, by the way?”

“I’m fine. Once that tequila kicked in…”

“And the chocolate?”

“Definitely the chocolate,” I murmured.

He released me, and I reached out and flipped the switch on the bedside lamp. The room was engulfed in darkness.

“You want your pillow back?” Butler asked.

“Yeah, actually, I do.”

The pillow landed on my head.

“Hey!”

I punched him with the same pillow right back.

Butler laughed, and so did I.

THE WATER RUSHES OVER MY FEET
, around my ankles, and I let out a sigh. That feeling will never get old.

I glance over at him. His eyes twitch as the water surges around his bare legs and then recedes once more. He doesn’t care that the bottoms of his rolled up jeans are wet. He’s transfixed by the water, the sight of Pacific infinity, the breaking of the waves over the rocks. He’s an explorer who’s reached the edge of the world.

“So, what’s the plan?” His deep voice tears my attention away from the liquid sapphire before us. A roll of waves swells in the distance.

“Huh? What plan?”

He turns to me, his golden brown eyes glowing in the first light of dawn. “You looking for something out here?”

I shrug. “Um…nah, I’m just…”

He slants his head at me. “Why the fuck not?”

I woke up, struggling for air, the sheet in my grip, an acute pressure in my chest.
That
pressure. I gulped at air to push back the nausea. I wiped the sweat from my neck and chest, rubbed my eyes, but the image of
him
, like some biker Jesus beckoning me on the beach of my youth rattled through me. I breathed in, I breathed out, but he wouldn’t go away. His question squeezed around my heart.

Tania moaned.

Again.

She twisted in the bed next to me. The rise and fall of her chest was deep and slow as she breathed through sleep.

I couldn’t fucking sleep.

Even though my body was exhausted, my brain was wired. Pick coming after me through the woman I was with was all kinds of bullshit. All kinds of warning signs.

He had been drinking, but still, that was no fucking excuse. Creeper had been hiding out with the Blades, and they were obviously pissed that I’d taken him.

Too fucking bad.

But Pick hanging out with a biker from another club? A club that had never had a foothold in our parts. A club that I’d literally made my mark on as a prospect. A club that Finger had a bloody history with.

Shit, I need a smoke.

Another moan.

A deep sigh.

Tania kicked off the sheet, and a long bare leg made an appearance. Her shorts had ridden up her ass, and the curve of a full cheek was visible in the light from the bathroom that I’d left on.

I hated sleeping in the dark, and I’d gotten up and turned it on, leaving the door ajar, after Tania had fallen asleep in the middle of our conversation about our favorite rock ballads of all time. (Mine being Led Zeppelin’s “Stairway to Heaven,” hers being Pearl Jam’s “Black.”) Now, I had a view of skin. Smooth, sleek skin on a leg that was bending, the lean muscles flexing.

Maybe Pick’s assault had freaked her out more than she’d let on?
I should’ve talked to her more about it after. Instead, I’d gone on about club politics and club history.

Then, she’d asked me how I was doing. And that one simple question had a gutting effect on me along with the touch of her hand against my chest. I hadn’t known how to answer.

When was the last time anyone had been concerned about me? About my fucking feelings?

Not for a long, long time.

Tania murmured in her sleep again, her head arching back.

I edged closer to her.

“Oh. Mmm,” seeped from her lips.

More little moans.

She couldn’t be dreaming about Pick unless he was some sort of fantasy come to life for her.

Huh
.

She turned again, and her back pressed against my chest. The sudden heat against me,
her
against me, lit up my skin, and my breath shorted. I lifted the sheet a few degrees, unstuck my legs, and…
yeah, there
. Skin-to-skin with Tania’s legs.

Fuck.

I wasn’t supposed to be doing this.

Her neck arched again, offering itself to me. I ran my fingertips across the silky skin of her shoulders, her arms. She rolled over, a slight smile on her lips, an arm sliding up against my chest, around my neck, her fingers in my hair.

A current raced up my spine and choked the breath in my lungs.

My hand swept across that long throat of hers and cradled her face. My lips brushed her ear, down the hidden patch of skin behind it, and goose bumps rose on her skin. I smiled to myself and wiped her thick hair away from her neck, revealing more skin.

Always the conqueror of female flesh.

No, no, this is different.

She nestled against me, her fingers rubbing against my scalp. The fragrance of the soap we’d both used in the shower invaded my senses along with another far prettier, more delicate scent, something flowery yet clean. Something I liked a hell of a lot. Like unexpected gentleness on a take-no-prisoners determined Tania. There was plenty of soft and vulnerable underneath her hard shell.

My hips pressed against hers on a primal instinct for friction, and my cock heartily agreed with the move. It had been stiff since her first moan I’d heard over an hour ago. Now, it was full-blown bone.

I can’t do this. I shouldn’t be doing this.

Another moan.

Fuck
.

I licked the side of her warm throat with the tip of my tongue. She let out a whimper, and it pulled on my insides.

“You like that, baby?” I murmured against her skin, following the angle of her jaw under her throat. I was rewarded with little cries and stretches, flexing, and hips searching for contact.

My fingers tucked under the warm cotton of her shirt, slid against her skin, down her torso, and over her hip. I hit elastic. Panty elastic. The final frontier. The border. Only, I didn’t have a passport to cross over.

My heart clanged in my chest.

That’s new.

This wasn’t just turned on, ready to fuck. This was…anticipation.

She squirmed against my cock, another lazy smile tugging on the edges of her lips.

Tania, who always seemed bitter and sour, who I’d always enjoyed taking down a peg or two when the opportunity had arisen.

Tania, who, decades ago, had blown me off in the middle of fucking her, stomping on my inflated sense of identity and manhood.

But that was then.

This was—

“Yes, yes…” she murmured, her voice husky, low.

This was Tania, who hadn’t gotten any in a long, long time.

The whole afternoon in that artist’s house flashed in front of my eyes. The softness of her face. That was real pleasure, excitement. Those exotic dark eyes of hers alive with fire. That was intelligence, determination, appreciation. The way we’d communicated in the dark. I’d held my hand out to her, and she’d taken it. She’d handed me her flashlight, listened to my comments, asked for my opinions. We’d lobbed jokes back and forth to lighten the tediousness of the ginormous task of weeding through eons of junk, dirt, and cobwebs to find special somethings.