Rock Chick 06 Reckoning (10 page)

Mace’s long fingers wrapped around my wrists and mostly we tested each other’s strength with me losing.

Mace got on top, his face in my face, his was angry and he clipped, “Damn it, Stel a, stop. You’re gonna tear your stitches.”

“Piss off,” I shot back, not caring about my stitches, in the throes of undeniable temporary insanity, I pushed off with my foot and rol ed him again.

He rol ed me back. We tussled some more.

Looking back, it wasn’t about the band (not total y) it was about being pissed at him for leaving me. Then being pissed at the way he came back in my life. And taking out on him (even though it wasn’t his fault) the fact that I was pissed because Linnie was dead and I was shot. Not to mention him wanting me back and me knowing that couldn’t happen because I couldn’t live through him walking out on me again.

He somehow got on top with his hips between my legs and my hands pinned above my head.

I was defeated, I knew it and so did he.

We stared at each other both breathing heavily. Him, I would realize later, from attempting to hold back knowing if he used his ful strength, he’d hurt me. Me, I knew at the time, because I gave it everything I had.

Eyes locked, we just panted in each other’s faces.

Then, face stil angry, that anger warring with something a whole lot different, he said through his teeth, “Christ, I forgot how fucking good you feel when you’re beneath me.” At his words, something shot through me, an electrical current vibrating through every nerve and ending with a sizzle.

Then, do not ask me why, stil deep in my insanity, I lifted my head, pressed my lips against his and kissed him.

Without hesitation, his head slanted and he kissed me back, open-mouthed, wet and deep.

Oh dear.

I forgot how good a kisser Mace was.

We then tussled a different way. He let go of my wrists and our hands started bumping into to each other’s as they moved, mine over the muscles of his back, his sides, his chest, my fingers sliding up his neck and into his hair. His up my sides, in the tank, he tilted up his abs and ran his hand along my bel y, up, to cup my breast, sliding his thumb across my nipple.

Lordy be.

I moaned into his mouth.

It didn’t take long for it to get out-of-control mainly because it had been out-of-control since I threw myself bodily at him – a weird, wild foreplay. I was so turned on I was ready, beyond ready; I’d been waiting a year for this.

The feel of his mouth on mine, his sleek skin and hard muscle under my fingers, the taste of him, the smel of him, his touch, his weight.

I started to tug down my own panties. Mace rol ed to the side, I lifted my knees and he took over, yanking my underwear down my calves and over my ankles and tossing them away. He rol ed to his back, bucked his hips, pul ing off his boxers and tossed them in the direction of my panties. Then he rol ed back to me, sliding between my opened legs, his hands came behind my knees, he pul ed them high and in one smooth, long, hard stroke, he drove into me.

It felt
great
.

“Harder,” I demanded, my voice low, my arms wrapping around his back.

“No, Kitten, I’l hurt you,” he replied, his voice rough, up on his elbows, his fingers sifting into my hair at the sides of my head, his thrusts firm and fantastic, but control ed.

I kissed him, he took over the kiss but I got what I wanted, his control slipped and he slammed into me harder.

“Yes,” I breathed when our mouths disengaged.

One of his hands went between us, and, right where I needed it, his finger honed in, pressed deep, circled, pressed deeper, circled more.

I felt it, it was coming.

My mouth against his, I caught my breath, holding back and then I whispered, “Mace, I’m –”

“Kitten, let it go.”

I let it go.

I came, hard and overpowering, my arms tightened around him, my thighs pressed into his sides, his mouth absorbed my moans as it overwhelmed me.

No other way to describe it, it was beautiful. It had always been beautiful.

Always.

I took his final strokes, my orgasm stil tingling, my head turned to the side. His face was in my neck, his breathing was ragged. I turned my face to look at him, his head came up and his eyes caught mine. They were hot on me, hot and aroused and intense and I felt like I was the center of the entire effing universe.

Man, he had great eyes.

I slid my fingers into the back of his hair, lifted my head and pressed my open mouth against his, my other hand going to his jaw. The moment I touched his face, he lost control and groaned against my lips.

For some reason, that was even more beautiful.

We were stil both breathing heavily, coming down but he rol ed immediately after he was done, taking me with him, resting me on my unwounded side, my leg curved around his waist.

I pressed my face in his throat and held onto him tightly while his hands moved lightly across my back and I made intermittent post-Mace-made-orgasm “mms” in the back of my throat. I never did “the purr” for anyone else, but then no one had given me an earth shattering orgasm like Mace did.

We caught our breath and I tried to catch a thought and found I couldn’t. Al I wanted was for time to stop and me and Mace to be there, on Daisy’s pul out couch, locked together forever.

Before I had a chance to recover, a chance to remember this was wrong and more importantly, why, his hand slid down my side to my waist, over my hip and then gently pul ed my leg from around him. He moved away, sliding down the bed and coming up on his forearm.

I laid there, head on the bed, arms cocked and resting in front of me, staring unseeing as I felt his fingers careful y pul the dressing away from my wound. I kept my head to the bed but I tilted my chin down to watch him. My eyes focused on Mace and I watched as he looked at the wound, his jaw getting tight.

Then…

No joke.

He gently replaced the dressing, pressing down the tape at is edges.

His head bent to it.

And, light as a whisper, he kissed me there.

I stopped breathing.

Effing, effing, hel , hel ,
hell.

He came back to me, his arms moving around me, one hand sliding over my bottom, the other arm wrapping around my waist.

He looked me in the eyes and said softly, “I’m guessin’

this doesn’t mean I’ve won.”

My sanity instantly returned, just as quickly as it fled.

I retorted, al bitchy (seriously, in my defense, I mean, hel o, he broke my heart once already, temporary insanity was one thing but taking him back was just plain loco),

“This doesn’t mean anything. As far as I’m concerned, this didn’t even
happen
.”

For some unhinged reason this made him grin like he found this a fortunate turn of events.

His mouth came to mine, lips stil turned up in a sexy smile, eyes open, gaze soft as it locked on mine.

I found I was holding my breath when he murmured,

“That’s what I thought.” He touched my lips with his, pul ed his head back a fraction and, stil smiling, he finished,

“Good to know you’re not gonna take the fun out of it, babe.”

Now what the hel did
that
mean?

No, no. I didn’t want to know.

Indy

“Come back to bed,” Lee said.

I looked away from the window to see Lee on his side, head in hand, in bed, the sheet down to his waist. I knew he was naked under the sheet and I knew what that naked looked like.

At the thought of it, I started to feel warm al over.

Hmm.

I walked to the bed and sat on the side.

“I don’t like it,” I told him.

“I don’t care. It’s decided,” he replied.

Boy, he was bossy. After al our time together, nearly a year, I hadn’t been able to get the bossy out of him. It was likely I never would. It was also likely I would never stop trying.

I made another attempt. “Maybe we should talk –” He moved. Quickly.

Hands at my waist, he twisted, taking me over his body, rol ing us both to the other side and I ended up on my back, Lee mostly on top of me.

“It’s decided,” he repeated.

“You didn’t ask –” I started.

“Listen to me, honey,” he said softly but his voice was determined. “I got the choice of puttin’ on a fuckin’ suit in a coupla weeks in order to meet you at the end of an aisle or maybe puttin’ on a suit to stand by your coffin. I pick the first.”

Okay, he had a point there. I picked the first too.

“How do the other boys feel about this decision?” I asked.

“Ecstatic. None of us particularly enjoyed the shot at, kidnapped, beat up portions of the Rock Chick Experience the first time around. We’re not fired up for a repeat performance.”

Okay, he had a point there too.

“Al right,” I said.

At my unusual y easy capitulation, he smiled at me. I stared.

He had a
great
smile. After a lifetime of witnessing that smile (which I had, his parents were best friends with my parents, I’d known him since I was born) I was stil ready for another lifetime.

His mouth went to my neck. A shiver ran across my skin.

“I stil can’t believe you’re gonna give up,” I whispered and I couldn’t believe it because it was unbelievable. Lee Nightingale was not a man who gave up.

“It’s not givin’ up,” he murmured against my neck, his mouth moving up to my jaw. “What it is, is assessing priorities and not takin’ any chances.”

I had to admit, it was nice to know I was “a priority”.

Stil .

“But –”

His mouth came to mine. “Shut up.”

My eyes narrowed. “Don’t tel me to shut up.” His chocolate brown eyes got melty and I saw smile crinkles form at their sides.

“Al right,” he agreed.

Then he kissed me and I shut up.

* * * * *

“Morning sickness?” I asked Jules.

“I’m in my fourth month and it’s sticking with me,” she replied on a grimace. “Can’t keep anything down until at least noon. Daisy’s breakfast yesterday… not fun re-experiencing
that
.”

“Fuck! Don’t talk about pukin’ while I’m eatin’ a jel y donut,” Smithie snapped.

“Sorry Smithie,” Jules returned on a smal smile.

“Where is everyone? We’re supposed to have a morning meeting.” Lee selected a chocolate-covered donut while I poured coffee.

I looked at Lee. He was ready to get this done. He had other, not so pleasant things on his agenda that day, like sitting down and giving into the threats of a very,
very
bad guy.

“Wel , I heard Roxie and Hank fighting on my way down.

Then I heard Eddie and Jet fighting. Didn’t hear anything from Luke and Ava. Vance is taking a shower. Daisy’s pouting because Smithie brought donuts,” Jules answered.

“She made coffee, put out the cups, cream and sugar and stomped off.”

“Fighting?” Lee asked on an eyebrow raise, completely unconcerned about Daisy pouting, which, given my vast experience with Daisy, I thought took precedence.

I decided not to share this nugget of information. Lee had enough to worry about.

“The girls are not fond of you boys fuckin’ throwin’ in the towel,” Smithie replied. “They like their action. Crazy bitches.”

Lee shook his head, clearly agreeing with Smithie.

I glared at him. He stared at me calmly. I gave up the glare and chose an old-fashioned donut.

“I don’t want to talk about it. In fact, I don’t want to talk to
you,
” Jet snapped as she entered the room. She was angry but this didn’t stop Eddie from having her in what Jet cal ed an “Eddie’s Woman Hold”, arm wrapped tight around her neck, Jet tucked deep into his side.

Eddie seemed oblivious to Jet’s rant, then again, Eddie always seemed oblivious to Jet’s rants which were not frequent but not unheard of.

“Who brought the donuts?” Eddie asked.

Jet rol ed her eyes at me. I smiled at her in understanding and took a bite of my donut which I chased with coffee.

Eddie disengaged and grabbed a glazed cinnamon rol .

“What’s up?” I asked as Jet got close. “You pissed that the Hot Bunch are giving up?”

“Yes,” she snapped. “Eddie’s been working that case for a year, even before he knew me. He’s never given up on anything. But we had an Eddie Chat while in bed and you know what that means.”

I knew what that meant, Eddie talked her around. Then Eddie muddled her head by giving her an orgasm. Or vice versa.

It had to be said, the Hot Bunch liked their morning piece of ass and they weren’t afraid to capitalize on the time-saving measure of using sex as a weapon in a disagreement.

“Honestly, I understand he doesn’t want to go through this business again. Who does?” Jet continued. “We got over that but now we’re fighting about the wedding. I want something smal , in a park or something like that. Blanca wants a ful Mass. A ful Mass! I’m not even Catholic! And Eddie refuses to referee between me and his Mom,” she shared.

“Men don’t do weddings,” I advised, ful of knowledge on
that
subject since mine was just under two weeks away.