2

Clean

“Toots, have you paid attention to anything I’ve taught you?”

I looked up, leaned in, put a hand on the wall of a very muscled chest and grinned up at West “Buck” Hardy.

“You asked me if I knew how to play pool,” I reminded him. “You didn’t ask me if I was capable of learning how to play pool.”

I was drunk.

Way drunk.

Unbelievably drunk.

In fact, I’d never been this drunk before in my life.

We’d had huge burgers, cheesy curly fries, and we’d chased them with beers, and that was more food than I’d had to eat in a long time. So I kind of sobered up a little when the food hit my stomach.

But then I shot more pool (sort of) while I shot more tequila and drank more beer, and I passed the drunk I was before like a rocket.

Now, I was smashed.

His hand hit my waist and slid around to the small of my back as he grinned down at me.

“All right, darlin’, are you capable of learnin’ how to play pool?”

I shook my head and gave him more of my weight.

“Nope,” I replied. “I’m not very dexterous. Never have been. Always picked last for teams in gym, and when I dissected my frog in biology class…” I trailed off and scrunched my nose before I finished, “It was seriously icky.”

His hand at the small of my back put on pressure and he fitted my body to his.

“Then maybe we should give up,” he suggested.

“This would be wise,” I told him, nodding, and suggested back, “We could go back to twenty questions.”

His face changed, and I liked the change, whatever it was. I was just too drunk to figure out what it was.

“Clara, honey, you didn’t find that fun,” he reminded me softly.

“Well, if you don’t ask mean questions, West, maybe it’ll be fun,” I replied.

His eyes moved over my face as he murmured, “Mean questions.”

I pulled away, grabbed his hand and dragged him to a couch. I moved in front of him, put both my hands on his chest, put pressure on my hands, and he went down. I collapsed beside him, curled my feet up under me so my bent legs were resting against his thigh, but I twisted my neck toward the bar.

“Driver!” I called. “Would you be a love and get us more beer?”

I heard Buck chuckle, and I turned to see his eyes were aimed beyond me and he was tipping up his chin which meant Driver was going to bring us more beer.

Excellent!

His gaze came to me, upon which I declared, “I’m smashed.”

Buck smiled and asked, “No shit?”

“I’ve never been this drunk,” I added.

His smile didn’t leave his face as his brows went up. “Really?”

I shook my head and answered, “Nope.”

“Babe, you gotta live more,” he advised.

I smiled at him and noticed when I did, his attention dropped to my mouth, which made my belly feel warm, but I ignored this and drunkenly blathered.

“No way.” I shook my head, then bragged outrageously, “I learned early to make all the right moves.”

His gaze left my mouth, caught mine, and I realized in a vague way he looked kind of surprised.

“Come again?”

“Well,” I started, felt Driver’s presence, turned, gave him a huge smile as I took a beer from him and turned back as Buck took the other one and then Driver moved away. “You learn that in foster care.”

Buck had started to lift the bottle to his mouth, but he stopped when his head jerked around, and his narrowed, lovely, rich, dark-brown eyes hit me.

“What?” he asked so quietly, I barely heard him.

But I heard him.

I was sucking back beer, staring at him and nodding all at the same time. I dropped my chin and my beer hand and looked at him.

“I mean, I messed up with Rogan, but I didn’t know that. He was handsome and he wore suits and he drove a nice car and he acted from the beginning like he really liked me. Not to mention he had a seriously cool name. I mean Rogan Kirk. Great name,” I stated.

I took another pull on my beer, swallowed it, and kept right on blathering.

“My birth mother gave me up for adoption then my adoptive father took off on my new mom when I was five, and she handled it for a while then, when I was seven, she killed herself, so I went to her sister. But she had four kids already, her husband had left her too, and things were tough. I wasn’t blood anyway, so she called social services and they put me into foster care. That’s how I met Tia. We were in a home together. I met her when I was twelve. We were thick as thieves. She was great. Like having a sister. She liked Rogan too. Neither of us expected to get something like that. We both expected to get something like…something like…” I trailed off and then stated, “Well, obviously, something like Esposito.”

When I shut up, I saw he was staring at me.

He kept doing this for a bit, before he said, “Jesus, Clara.”

“I know.” I threw out my hand with the bottle in it. “No one knows that, right? No one knows why I believed in Rogan. Or why I wanted to believe.” I sucked back more beer and went on, “In those articles, they didn’t talk about how I worked my ass off at school to get academic scholarships to go to college. Which didn’t cover it all, by the way. I had to get student loans and I paid those off. No one knows that.”

I threw back more beer.

And kept blabbing.

“They also didn’t talk about the student loans I took out to get my masters which I also paid off with my money. Money I earned. Rogan offered, but I said no. I didn’t think it was fair. They didn’t ask me questions about that. They didn’t try to investigate why I was blind to what Rogan was doing. He treated me great. He traveled a lot, but when he was home, our marriage was awesome.”

I leaned into Buck on the last word then leaned back and slugged more beer before continuing.

“I’d worked hard to get what I had. I thought Rogan was my reward. I thought, finally, finally,” I leaned in again and stayed there, “it was my turn to have a taste of the good life.”

“Baby,” he whispered.

“But I was wrong,” I went on like he said not a word and sat back. “And that’s what I learned. You make all the right moves. You don’t get into trouble, and Buck,” I aimed a look at him, though not entirely successfully, “drinking until you’re smashed is the wrong move. That’ll piss off foster parents, get you kicked to a new place, or worse. So you be good. You do what you’re told. You study and get good grades and be where they tell you to be or where you say you’re going to be. You don’t make trouble. You don’t ask questions. You don’t have expectations. You just wake up and get through each day doing the best you can and putting every foot right.”

I threw back another swallow of beer.

And again kept talking.

“So I did all that, and I have to tell you, I’ve thought about it, like, loads, how I put my foot wrong with Rogan. But I swear, I swear, he gave me no clue. We had a great marriage, great sex, shoo!” I threw my hand out again. “I mean, seriously, he’s a jerk of the jerkiest order, but you have to hand it to him, he has stamina if he was sleeping with all those women and still able to do the things he did to me.” I leaned in again. “And how often and with such energy.”

“Are you saying you’re not pissed at him?” Buck asked, and I tried to focus more fully on him.

“Oh no. If it wasn’t illegal and if prison didn’t scare the bejeezus out of me, I would have killed him,” I stated breezily. “I’m just saying he was great in bed.”

“So he ruined you for other men,” Buck deduced, and if I wasn’t so drunk, I would have noticed his tone was teasing, but I was drunk.

So drunk.

“Totally, and not because of the bed business,” I answered in all seriousness. “Never going to go there again. No more men, ever.”

I felt something funny and it was so funny my drunken focus became a far more focused focus and I saw Buck was again staring at me with a expression on his face I couldn’t decipher, but it made tingles slide across my skin.

“No more men, ever?” he asked quietly.

“Ever,” I answered firmly, then turned my head and sucked back more beer.

“Baby, that’s a waste,” I heard Buck say.

I dropped my beer hand and looked at him.

“What? Why?” I asked.

“Because, Clara, you’re fuckin’ gorgeous,” he answered, and I felt my eyes get big at the same time I felt my mouth drop open. “Great ass, babe, fuckin’ unbelievable legs, fantastic tits, beautiful hair, gorgeous eyes, and shit, darlin’, when you smile, fuck, your smile goes right to a man’s dick.”

I blinked again then I whispered, “I’m not gorgeous.”

His hand slid around my thighs making his arm curl around both and he leaned into me to reply, “Don’t know what you see in the mirror and it also doesn’t matter. I feel your smile in my dick means I got a dick which means I’m a man and I’m tellin’ you, Toots, top-to-toe, you’re gorgeous. You weren’t, babe, your ass woulda been thrown outta this building two seconds after you entered it. Since you are, you’re drunk, and in about five minutes, you’re gonna be in my room and I’m gonna convince you to forget about your vow of no men, ever.”

Oh wow.

“You are?” I whispered.

“Damn straight,” he answered.

“Oh my.” I was still whispering.

“You want, you can bring the bottle with you.” He tipped his head to the bottle of tequila still sitting on the pool table and kept talking. “But the only thing I’m gonna be tasting for the rest of the night is you.”

Oh.

Wow.

“Oh my,” I repeated on a breath.

“You want the bottle?” he asked.

“Buck—”

“Answer me, babe.”

“No, but—”

I didn’t finish.

He stood, yanked my beer out of my hand and set it aside with his. He grabbed my hand, pulled me off the couch and dragged me through the room to a doorway on the side wall by the bar. Through that doorway, he turned us left, we went down a short hall, then left again, and we went down a long hall where he opened the door to the second to the last room.

There, he pulled me in.

He closed the door.

I stared at the unmade, queen-sized bed.

Oh dear.

I turned to Buck.

“Um…”

I stopped speaking (not that I knew what to say) when he advanced.

I was drunk but not drunk enough to retreat toward the bed.

Instead, I shifted and moved away from it.

Buck shifted too and kept advancing.

“Um…Buck?” I called as I kept moving backward.

“Yeah, babe,” he answered as he kept moving forward.

I hit wall and was forced to stop.

Buck’s body hit mine and simply stopped.

I tipped my head back, feeling my scalp scrape the wall as I did so, and I stated, “I’m pretty…um, dedicated to that vow.”

Buck spanned my hips with his hands and pulled them into his. He dropped his head so his lips were not even an inch away, but his eyes kept hold of mine.

It was then, I smelled him.

He did not smell of cologne.

He smelled of Buck Hardy.

Dark and decadent.

Um.

I was in trouble.

“Like I said, baby, you gotta live more,” he whispered.

“But—” I started.

His head slanted, and he kissed me.

His beard felt scratchy. It also felt sexy because it came with his lips and his tongue.

And he tasted great, like beer, tequila and man.

Oh God.

My hands lifted, my fingers curled around his neck, and when his lips released mine and slid down my jaw to my ear, I felt it starting.

I had a strong libido, according to Rogan.

Rogan had loved that about me.

I thought it was Rogan.

Apparently, it was me.

Or, in this case, perhaps tequila, beer and all things Buck.

Specifically, the fact he smelled good, tasted good and was a really great kisser.

“Buck,” I whispered, and he moved his hands from my hips to glide in and cup both cheeks of my behind.

Oh God.

“Buck,” I repeated on a breath.

“Fuck, baby, you got a great ass,” he muttered against the skin under my ear.

Oh…God.

“Buck,” I said again, so low, even I could hardly hear it.

He lifted his head, but he also pressed his hips against mine. There was something lovely and hard there, and I felt my knees buckle so my fingers dug into his neck.

“I’m right here, Toots,” he replied, slanted his head again and kissed me.

He was.

He was right there.

And I was right there.

And he tasted great and he felt great and his hands at my bottom felt even better and his tongue in my mouth felt the best.

Oh God, God, God.

I couldn’t help it. I was too drunk, and he was too everything and all of it was good. I slid the fingers of one of my hands into his thick, overlong hair and the other hand moved around his shoulders to hold on. I tilted my head to the opposite side, pressed my body in and kissed him back.

That was it and what would happen next would make Rogan and all the fabulous things he could do to me be forever erased from memory.

I was all over Buck, and he was all over me.

I couldn’t get enough of him, pulling his T-shirt from his jeans, my hands sliding in, over his hot, sleek, muscled skin, my movements fevered, hungry, my mouth more so.

And Buck felt the same, I knew it because he didn’t hide it. He drank it from my mouth, he pulled it from my skin, he nipped it with his teeth.

Unbelievable.

I couldn’t even keep track of it all. I could only feel, his hands at my bottom, my sides, my breasts. His mouth on my nipple over my blouse. My fingers yanking up his tee. His arms going up, pulling the shirt off then immediately my mouth went to his chest, his nipples, my hand gliding over his hard crotch then his hand fisting in my hair and positioning my head for him to take my mouth again.

He yanked up my skirt so it was around my waist, pushed down my panties. I stepped out of them and kicked them free and Buck’s hands went to my behind again. I hopped up and wrapped my legs around him, but my hand went to his jeans. I undid the zipper, reached in, pulled his thick, rock-hard cock free and guided him to me.

He surged in.

My head flew back.

“Yes,” I breathed.

Buck pounded into me, pounding me into the wall.

It felt super good.

My mouth found his. “Harder, baby.”

He pounded into me harder.

“God,” I whispered against his lips and he slid his tongue inside my mouth.

I took his thrusts, tilting my hips to deepen them, our tongues tangling, his hands at my bottom, my arms around his shoulders, holding on.

Then I couldn’t kiss him because I couldn’t breathe anymore.

“God,” I moaned.

It was going to hit me, and when it did, it was going to be hard.

“Clara, baby, let go,” he growled against my lips.

I let go even though I didn’t know I was hanging on. My head flew back, slamming into the wall, and I cried out.

Ah.

May.

Zing.

Buck kept thrusting through my orgasm, grunting with his thrusts and I kept tilting my hips, offering myself to him, seeking the connection, loving the feel of it.

I curved my fingers around either side of his head.

“Baby,” I whispered against his lips, “you feel beautiful.”

At my words, he drove deep, stayed planted and groaned into my mouth.

Yes.

I moved my lips to his jaw, his neck, his ear, touching my tongue to his earlobe, tasting Buck, tasting man, smelling it, loving it as I felt his fingers tighten on my behind.

On my mouth’s journey back to his, he pulled me from the wall, turned and walked us to the bed.

My lips hit his midway, his mouth opened, and I slid my tongue inside.

He fell back to the bed, me on top of him, and through it all, I never stopped kissing him.

I finally lifted up and looked down at him, my hands still framing his head.

“Okay,” I whispered. “Maybe this once, I’ll live more.”

He looked up at me and smiled that fabulous smile, white teeth, thick, dark beard.

Then he rolled me to my back.

“Buck!” I cried.

“Let go.”

“Oh God.”

“Baby, fuckin’…let…go,” he growled.

I let go, crying out loudly, my back and neck arching, my heels digging into his thighs. He slid his finger from between my legs so both of his hands could go to my hips, lifting them as he drove deep, deep and fast, his breathing labored, his grunts so powerful, they rumbled against the skin of my neck.

Amazing.

I came down and helped him out, whispering in his ear, and I felt the power of his thrusts intensify, telling me he liked what he heard. Then he lifted his head, his mouth slammed down on mine, and I slid my tongue inside so I could feel his groan against it.

Yes.

Amazing.

He stayed buried inside me as I kissed him then he took over the kiss, both were hungry. His kiss gentled to soft, sweet, then he stopped kissing my mouth in order to kiss my nose. Finally, he rolled off, pulling out, falling to his back, tucking me to his side.

I rested my head on his shoulder, my arm around his tight stomach, and I bent my leg so my thigh fell on his.

I was still drunk, but not so drunk I didn’t feel his soft, sweet kiss or the softer, sweeter one he planted on my nose.

West “Buck” Hardy, president of a motorcycle club, kissed my nose.

I smiled against his shoulder.

He started sifting his fingers through my hair.

West “Buck” Hardy, president of a motorcycle club, was sifting his fingers through my hair.

My arm around his stomach tightened.

“Tell me about Tia,” he said into the now dark room.

“What about her?” I asked.

“She all you got?” he asked back.

“Yes,” I answered.

His hand in my hair stilled.

“Babe,” he whispered.

“It’s okay.” I gave his stomach a squeeze. “She’s enough.”

“Fuck me,” he muttered into the semi-dark (night had fallen, we’d been busy, Buck had only turned on one lamp, and it didn’t cast a very wide glow).

I raised my head to look at his shadowed face.

“No, really, she is,” I told him. “She’s sweet and she’s kind and she’s generous.”

“Darlin’,” he moved his hand to cup the back of my head and bring it closer to him, “I can tell you’re tight with her, but you gotta know, a woman who puts you in the path of man like Esposito and lets him use you like he does is not sweet, kind and generous.”

“That’s not how it happened,” I replied softly.

“Then explain how it happened,” he demanded.

“He’s done with her,” I informed him.

“Come again?” he asked.

“He’s done with her, Buck,” I repeated. “But Enrique Esposito doesn’t throw anything away. He keeps everything just in case it proves useful. And Tia is useful to him.”

“How?”

Okay.

How did I allow us to get here?

I closed my eyes and looked away, wishing I was smashed again and not just drunk.

Smashed, I could forget.

Just drunk, it came tumbling back.

And just drunk, I didn’t guard myself, and Tia, from me needing to relay this information.

But something was happening between Buck and me.

It might just last this day and that was probably precisely how long it would last.

That said, I liked him.

I liked having sex with him.

I liked talking to him.

I liked not-quite learning pool from him.

I just liked him.

And I wanted him to understand what made me.

In other words, since I did not guard myself, or Tia, from this, I needed to relay this information.

“Toots,” he called on a prompt.

I opened my eyes and aimed them at his face.

“He loans her out,” I whispered and felt his body go solid against mine.

Solid in the sense of stone.

Then he said in a way that I could tell his words were coming from between his teeth, “He does what?”

“She’s very pretty,” I told him.

“I’ve seen her.”

“So you know.”

“She’s not hard to look at,” he agreed.

“Well, if the price is right, he loans her out.”

“Fuckin’ hell,” he muttered.

“That’s about it,” I replied. “So, Tia told me this and I talked to Esposito. Made a deal. He stops doing that and I work for him.”

Buck’s body went solid against mine again.

This before he asked, “You did what?”

“I made a deal. It wasn’t a bad deal. Not only does he stop doing that to Tia, every message I deliver, I get a thousand dollars. It’s actually, if you think about it, a really good deal.”

Both his arms went around me, and he pulled me mostly on top of him and up so we were face to face.

“Toots, he’s sent you with messages to Breaker Walinski and Imran Babić. Break’s a biker who sells safe passage for drugs, guns and anything else illegal. Babić is a Bosnian lunatic who sells drugs, guns, pimps women, strongarms protection money, floats loans at a one hundred percent interest rate, makes book and is into anything else that’s illegal. These are not guys you fuck with. Enrique Esposito is a sociopath and he’s ambitious, not a good combination. Break’s got a sense of justice. The disrespect Esposito dished out by sendin’ you to the meet he’ll take out on Esposito. Babić, babe, you gotta know, him lettin’ you go in, deliver Esposito’s message and walk out in one piece is a fuckin’ miracle. I see you wantin’ to look after your girl, but the deal you made is not a good deal.”

“You’re wrong, West,” I whispered.

“I’m right, Clara,” he replied not in a whisper.

“She’s all I’ve got, and he was loaning her out,” I reminded him. “Not to mention, I need the money.”

“It worth that to her, to you, to get dead?” he asked.

“You do what you have to do,” I told him on a shrug.

“Yeah, and what you shoulda done is put her in your car and got the fuck outta town, found yourselves jobs doin’ whatever the fuck you could do under names that are not your own and prayed he never found you.”

“He’d find us,” I returned. “Therefore, that really wasn’t an option.”

“Clara, a man like Esposito burns fast, he burns bright and then someone snuffs him out. He’s makin’ enemies everywhere. He is not long for this world. All you had to do was wait him out.”

His point held merit.

“Your point holds merit,” I told him.

He was silent a moment before he burst out laughing, his arms tightening around me, and he rolled me to my back, him on top.

“Though,” I continued, “I didn’t have a biker advisor when I was making this decision.”

“Bad luck, baby,” he said softly.

“Mm,” I mumbled in reply, before I asked, “Are you ever going to let me deliver his message?”

“His message is, no, he’s not gonna pull his shit off our patch. He’s gonna keep sendin’ his dealers in, he’s gonna keep movin’ his product through, and he’s gonna do this too fuckin’ close to our shop. I knew that was his reply to my request the minute you walked in.”

“So what are you going to do?” I asked.

“I’m gonna hafta expend the effort of pullin’ his shit off my patch.”

Oh dear.

That didn’t sound good.

“Buck—”

He cut me off.

“No. Me and my brothers got mortgages and mouths to feed. We cannot have customers not show to buy ceiling fans and mix paint because some dealer is makin’ a sale on the corner where they can see. We got a situation where people think it’s cool to buy a paint roller from a bunch of bikers. We don’t need them to think we got seedy shit happening on our turf. That would fuck everything.”

It would, indeed, fuck everything.

Though, I had to admit, his commitment to this seemed pretty intense, considering, as mentioned, he and his boys were pretty rough-looking.

Not to mention, it seemed he knew a whole lot about men like Esposito, Breaker Walinski, and Imran Babić.

I shouldn’t judge.

However…

“So you guys are totally clean?” I asked.

“We are.”

Wow, I thought.

“Wow,” I whispered out loud. Then, “Cool,” I finished.

He was quiet.

I felt his hand rest against my face before he said softly, “And I take clean to my bed, baby.”

Oh dear.

“Buck—”

“You’re cute, Toots, you got courage and you got heart. Now, you gotta use both a’ those to fight for clean.”

Oh God.

“You think I’m dirty?” I whispered, horrified.

“Babe, point of fact is, you take drug and pimp money to deliver messages.”

Oh God.

He did.

He thought I was dirty.

And that felt…

It felt…

Somehow, it felt worse than having everyone in Phoenix think I was insanely greedy or a chump.

A lot worse.

“Please get off me.” I was still whispering.

“Toots—”

“No,” I said, pushing at his shoulders. “Please get off me.”

“Clara, listen to me.”

“No,” I repeated, still pushing at his shoulders and also bucking against his body.

“Cool it, Toots, and listen to me.”

“Get off me.”

He pressed me into the bed with his long frame and his hand slid from my face to my neck and curled around, the pads of his fingers digging in gently to make a point.

“I said, listen to me.”

“No, Buck, you’re judging me again,” I retorted.

“You cannot say what I said isn’t true.”

I stilled. “You’re right. Absolutely right. Now, before I sully your safeguarded cleanliness any further, you should release me from your bed.”

“Babe, don’t piss me off,” he warned. “You’re not lettin’ me finish my point.”

I stared at his face in the semi-dark.

There I was, drunk, naked, stupid, desperate, and in bed with a man I barely knew.

What was wrong with me?

When did it happen?

I’d kept myself safe for years.

When did I start making all the wrong moves?

“You know,” I started conversationally, “I have to say, I don’t care to let you finish your point. You’ve said enough. Now, I’d like to go.”

“Yeah? And where are you gonna go?”

“What do you care?”

“Toots—”

“I get it. I understand fighting to be clean. I get that. Because the only person who ever loved me was pimped out by her husband. So I did what I had to do to help her stay as clean as she could get. Which, by the way, is never, ever going to be clean. Not in her mind. So yes, I took drug money to do it. If that makes me dirty, so be it. For me, my company is Tia, and I’ll take that. So, I’ve asked you, repeatedly, to get…off…me.”

I shoved his shoulders on my last word and lifted him off me enough to scoot out from under him. I almost made it to the end of the bed. But then he hooked my waist with his arm and pulled me back under him.

Thus started a tussle. Which, a few seconds in, I knew I wasn’t going to win because, firstly, he was bigger than me, secondly, he was stronger than me, and thirdly, he wasn’t (kind of) drunk like me. So I gave up and glared at his face in the semi-dark.

“You gonna listen to me now?” he bit off.

“I will hear you, but I can’t guarantee I’ll listen to you,” I returned.

“Fuckin’ hell, babe, you need to get smart real fuckin’ fast.”

“Oh, so now I’m dirty and stupid.”

“You’re the last if you don’t learn to make the right allies, and the right allies are not sociopaths who’ll send you to deliver messages hopin’ you won’t come out alive or, one way or another, no longer intact.”

“So, what you’re saying…your advice is I should sleep with you to keep you sweet so you’ll take care of me?”

“Actually, yeah.”

I stared at him through the dark.

I was being facetious.

He was not.

Then I asked, my voice pitched higher, “Is that clean?”

He lifted a hand and glided his fingers through my hair, down, pulling it over my shoulder and his voice was gentle when he replied, “Yeah, Clara. It’s honest. We both know what it is. We both get somethin’ out of it. So it’s clean.”

Oh God.

I was going to cry.

I thought my life couldn’t possibly get worse, and here it was, worse.

This really cool, handsome man who listened well and was great at sex wanted me to prostitute myself to him so he would take care of me and I could “make a good ally.”

“Please…please get off me,” I whispered.

“You bring Tia with you, I’ll keep her safe too.”

Oh God.

“You can’t, he won’t let her go,” I replied.

“Babe, he’ll have to get through me and all of my boys to get to you or her.”

“And all I have to do is sleep with you?” I asked.

“Well, no,” he answered.

“Does Tia have to sleep with you too?” I pushed, and his body went stone solid again.

Except maybe more stone solid, something I wouldn’t think was possible.

But it was.

“Babe,” he growled.

A warning.

Definitely.

I’d gone too far.

I also didn’t care.

“Okay, so then does Tia have to sleep with one, or, say, all of your boys?”

“Don’t do that shit. You know that’s not what I’m talkin’ about.”

“So maybe you’ll explain what you’re talking about.”

“I would, you shut your trap.”

I shut my trap and stared at his shadowed head.

He stared at mine.

Then he muttered, “Christ, need my head examined.”

“You could get off me,” I reminded him.

“Is this shuttin’ your trap?”

I shut my trap again.

“You take of care my house and my business as well as me.”

“What does that mean?”

“That means you move outta your apartment before they kick your ass out. You move into my house. You keep it clean. You keep me fed, that is, when I’m not feedin’ you, and I like to cook, so mostly, I’ll be feedin’ you. You come to work with me and take care of the office, and you go home with me.”

Wow.

Was he serious?

That sounded like…it sounded like…

My God, it didn’t sound like a sex-for-safety arrangement.

It sounded like a relationship.

“What?” I whispered.

“The office work, I pay you for,” he went on.

He’d pay me for it?

As in, a job?

“What?” I repeated.

“And give you a car since the repo men, babe, just gotta say, they’ll get yours before you get a chance to sort that shit out.”

Good God.

He knew everything about me.

“Do you know everything about me?”

“Everything from your master’s degree up. That foster care shit, no. We didn’t have the chance to dig that deep.”

“Why did you dig at all?”

“Toots, I knew he was gonna send you and you don’t go up against an enemy you don’t know. Word about you was all over the street. Anything on radar that may touch my Club, I find out about it.”

That made sense and it was thorough and protective. It kind of made me wish I had a club. Then again, I’d always kind of wished I’d had a club.

Buck kept talking.

“Clara, listen to me, I’m offerin’ you a home, a car, a job, protection for you and your girl and the opportunity to stay clean. Are you seriously gonna turn that down?”

Something occurred to me.

“Did you know that you’d…that you’d try…that we’d—?”

“Saw pictures of you, babe, lots of ’em. Can’t say they didn’t catch my interest but in the flesh…” He tugged my hair, let that finalize his point and moved on. “So no. I didn’t know you’d be where you are right now and I didn’t know I’d make that offer because I didn’t know the offer needed to be made. Though, considered an offer after our abbreviated twenty questions and definitely was movin’ toward it after you got smashed, chatty and seriously fuckin’ cute.”

I missed the last part, which was too bad, but it was because I was stuck on what he said earlier.

“So this is pity?” I asked, my voice rising again, and I watched him arch his neck back and listened to him sigh.

Once he’d done that, I listened to him mutter, “Fuckin’ hell.”

“Well?” I demanded.

It was then I watched him tip his head down and felt his eyes burning into me.

“Let me sum up,” he stated with unhidden, barely restrained patience. “You…are…fucked. You haven’t worked in nearly a year. You’ve come to the end of the money you had in your own account, as well as the end of the money you got when you hocked anything they left you with that had value. You haven’t paid on your car in six months. You’re three months out on rent. You were six, but the money you earned from Esposito caught you up, just not enough. You were served an eviction notice a week ago. Your three credit cards are maxed. You haven’t paid on them in six months either. They’re with collection agencies who are at your door so much, they could move in.”

Okay.

One could say he’d really, really looked into me.

And he wasn’t done.

“Your girl is unsafe and the only way to keep her safe is to accept death-defying errands for a sociopath. That is, until he gets tired of watchin’ you charm your way through badass bikers and psychopathic filth by wearin’ tight skirts, high heels and bein’ cute, and he decides to loan you out too.”

This, I had to admit, was a concern I’d had as well.

And…

Buck still wasn’t finished.

“Client one, my guess, Imran Babić, who hasn’t made public his reasons for lettin’ you strut away from him unharmed, but who I know likes blondes, tight asses and long legs. Client two, Breaker Walinksi’s boy, Bug, who was there when you strutted in and strutted out and has made public his interest in Esposito’s new piece of tail.”

Fabulous.

Buck kept talking

“Like I said, you need to start makin’ the right allies. Now, this is just my guess, but you walk outta Ace’s Dive without my protection, three things can happen. Esposito keeps usin’ you until he uses you up one way or another. Babić picks you up and has his fun with you. And babe, you’re cute, you may be able to get him to be your shield, but Babić does not like brown skin and Tia won’t be along for that ride. Or last, Breaker pulls you in for his boy, and Walinskis, they know and appreciate a fine woman. So they pull you in, babe, they like you, and they will, you ain’t ever gettin’ out.”

At long last, he finally stopped talking.

But I didn’t know what to say.

There was a lot there and none of it was good.

And regrettably, I had a feeling with all of it, he was right.

When I didn’t speak, Buck did.

“Or you pick smart. You pick me. You make the right ally. You work an honest job, you get honest pay. You get a ride you don’t have to hide from the repo man. You get your girl safe. And you and me, we enjoy what we gave each other four times before we had this chat and we keep enjoyin’ it until it isn’t so much fun anymore.”

It had to be said, I did enjoy what he gave me four times before we had this chat. I enjoyed it a lot. What made it more enjoyable was that he could give it to me four times. He wasn’t exactly sixteen. In fact, even Rogan, who was legendary, could only manage twice.

Definitely a point to ponder.

Just one to ponder when I wasn’t still inebriated.

“Can I delay my decision until I don’t have so much tequila and beer in my system?” I requested.

“I’m thinkin’, Toots, you didn’t get me when I told you that you should live more,” he replied.

“So your advice is to make a major life decision naked, in bed with a man I barely know, after having four orgasms, our first fight and while somewhat intoxicated?” I asked.

“Definitely,” he answered without hesitation.

I stared at his shadowed head.

Then I burst out laughing.

“Toots,” he called over my laughter.

But I kept laughing.

So hard I had to lift my head up and shove my face against his neck at the same time wrapping my arms around him to hold on.

There was no reason to do this since I was horizontal, I just did.

“Clara,” he called again when I kept laughing, so I struggled to control it, dropped my head to the bed and looked at him again.

“Give me until morning,” I said through residual giggles.

“Gorgeous, just pointing out, you’re holdin’ on to me tight,” he said quietly, my residual giggles died, and I started to slide my arms away until he ordered, “Don’t,” and I stopped.

“Buck,” I whispered.

“You got until morning,” he acquiesced. My body relaxed under his, his head dipped, and I felt his lips at my ear. “And so do I,” he finished.

His mouth moved to mine, and he kissed me.

Then he went about giving me orgasm five and he took his time doing it.

Shortly after, he took more time and gave me orgasm six.

After that, I passed out, and my last thought was I could enjoy West “Buck” Hardy for a long, long time.

Especially if he could keep all that up.

And I meant all of it.

But mostly, if he kept kissing my nose.