Page 47 of Steele

After a moment, he dropped onto his elbows, his forearms framing my face. His lips lingered against mine. With a shift of his hips, he slipped out of me, leaving a hollowness inside me. I weaved my fingers through his hair, deepening the kiss. I licked inside his mouth and twisted my tongue around his.

Finally, he rolled over, tugged the covers to the side, slipped off the condom, and dropped it to the floor.

When I raised a brow, he wrapped an arm around me and tucked me against him. “I’ll take care of it in a minute. I need to catch my breath.”

Steele

I needed more than a minute. I needed a cigarette. I was fucking lightheaded. When I’d come, my nuts had contracted so hard, I thought they’d explode. I felt electrified. Shivers sizzled against my flesh, yet my skin was hot. I trembled like I’d just fried every nerve in my body.

Touching Jaymi calmed the rioting, mixed signals in my brain. I wanted to hold her tight and spend the night inside her. I could imagine her on the back of my bike and in my bed every night. But she deserved better than I could give her with a back bedroom in an MC and a restraining order. My life had run off the road. She should run. Or for her, I should. The last thing she needed was an emotional attachment. But fuck me, I wanted her attached.

Muffled music sounded from outside the room. Someone squealed in the hallway followed by a robust laugh. Her hand roamed over my chest. With a sigh, she relaxed and tipped her head to glance at me. “That leftover pizza would taste good right now.”

“Pike is a bottomless pit. I’m sure it’s gone. I can get Sherry or one of the old ladies to make you a plate from the barbecue.”

She snuggled against me. “I’m not that hungry.” At that moment, her stomach grumbled. A soft laugh spilled from her lips. “I’m really not. Are you?”

“A cigarette would taste good about now.” I trailed my fingertips over her shoulder and slid my leg along hers.

“Do you smoke?”

“Not anymore. I quit a couple weeks ago. I’m cleaning up my image.”

“Hmm.” She stretched, and her tits pressed against me. She grazed her nails along my forearm, tracing my tattoo. A scorpion with blood dripping from the stinger. I hated the tattoo. I hated what it represented. Betray me, feel the sting. I wasn’t that man anymore.

Her touch drifted along my shoulder.

As if reading my mind, she asked, “Do your tattoos have meaning?”

Her fingertips feathered across my sternum, to the dove wrapped in chains merged with a snake weaving through the eye sockets of a skull. I’d altered my Crawler ink into a tribute to Tommy.

“They do. They all represent a time in my life.” I still hadn’t gotten my Heller ink. Soon. Priorities and shit. I’d just picked up a new ride. I’d wanted no reminders of my time with the Crawlers. The old Softail had too many bad memories attached to it. The new Harley represented the new uncomplicated me.

She smiled as she traced her finger over Lili’s name on my right shoulder. The letters were inked with scrolls and flowers. A little ladybug rested on top of the swirl of the L in Lili.

“I’ve thought about getting a tattoo,” she said. “Something for Matti, but I don’t know where to put it.”

“Do you know what you want?”

“A butterfly with wings to resemble angel wings.”

I laced our fingers. “When you’re ready, I’ll go with you.”

She tipped her face to mine. “Does it hurt?”

“Yeah, but in an addicting way, especially when the tattoo means something.”

For a moment, we just breathed in the silence. She felt good against me. Her tangled hair spread across my pillow. The soft scent of her perfume lingered on her flesh.

“This is nice.” She was quiet, but her breath took on a measured cadence. Inhale for four counts, and a long, slow exhale. “The MC isn’t what I expected.”

“Talk to me,” I whispered. “What happened tonight to make you upset with Jeff?” Why had she been at The Bearded Goat?

“I’ve been in a committed relationship with my grief and anger. Sometimes, I’m afraid to breathe. I’m afraid to trust myself. I don’t know how to trust anyone else.”

“Love hurts when you trust the wrong person. Trust is a funny thing. Easily given but once lost, almost impossible to get back. That he’s gone robs you of the chance to confront him.”

“He died, but I’m still fighting an ugly separation because he was a cheating asshole.” She breathed again with long measured breaths in and out. “You saw all the paperwork in my car. I’m being sued, both by his parents and his affair partner. His parents want the house, and Astrid wants everything else. That’s her name, Astrid Chamberlin. She wants a portion of his life insurance because she claims he’d planned to divorce me and make a life with her.”