Time and distance weren’t helping.
Deb sat on the back porch and listened through the kitchen window as Leah spoke to Max. She’d been with them now for nearly a month. Max hadn’t come home to see her even once in that time, but he called every day, usually at least twice a day, morning and evening.
Leah was doing well out here, and Deb and her father both enjoyed the company. It was nice to have a little bit more life perking up the place, and the help was welcome, too. But she missed Max, more each day, and their phone calls were increasingly desperate and sad. Less than a hundred miles separated them, but it might as well have been a continent.
Deb didn’t mean to eavesdrop, exactly. But the house had only two phones, neither of them located in privacy. When Deb needed to get online, she had to string a long cord from the computer and take the downstairs phone off the wall. When it had been just Deb and her dad in the house, it hadn’t been hard to find privacy for a call. When she’d been a teenager, she’d pulled the handset into the bathroom and closed the door. Her mother had had many fits about the kinks she’d worked into the spiral cord that way.
Leah didn’t seem to care about privacy. She just sat at the kitchen table. Even when she cried on the call or after it, she didn’t try to hide.
Deb heard tears in her voice now. She could have gone down and gotten started on the garden, of course, but the truth was, she felt compelled to listen. So she did mean to eavesdrop, after all. It wasn’t to hear secrets or gossip, though. It was the tone of the calls, the sound of Leah’s voice, the love and longing in it. The sound drew Deb to it, like a siren song.
It hurt, actually. Because time and distance weren’t helping. There’d been something there, between her and Simon. Something good. Something she’d missed for a year and a half. Missed—or denied. Something she’d long ago decided not to look for. But it had felt really beautiful in the few moments that she’d understood that it had been there, already in her hands.
She’d been falling in love and had never let herself see it. Almost a month and a half since the last time she’d laid eyes on him, she still thought about him every day, fought off the temptation to call him every day. First thought, last thought, in her dreams. Every day. She woke panting and throbbing from those dreams.
Leah was a perfect example of what Deb had lost, or given up, or simply missed. She was also a perfect example of why she didn’t have it. Max and Leah were like a John Mellencamp song: a ‘good girl’ and a ‘bad boy,’ and a consuming love in the heartland, torn asunder by circumstance.
Deb was better off without that. Almost her whole adult life, she’d cleaved to the knowledge that she was better off this way, even without the specter of loving a Brazen Bull and taking on their drama. She wanted this quiet life in this quiet place.
Right? That was what she wanted. Right?
There was a time when she’d wanted more, but that time was long past. For years, she’d been happy as she was.
She’d been sure of that once. Now, Deb listened to Leah say goodbye to her man, her syllables lifting with sadness, and she wondered.
After a minute, Leah opened the screen door and stepped onto the porch. “Sorry about that. I’m ready to get busy now.”
“Everything okay?” Deb put her bookmark in the book she’d been not-reading and stood. She set the book on the little wicker table beside her wicker chair. “They still locked down?”
“No. They sent everybody home. Nothing’s resolved, but I guess whatever’s going on is quiet again for now. But he won’t let me come home yet.” She blew out a puff of frustration and crossed her arms. “It’s been a month!”
“I know.” Deb went to her and set a comforting hand on her back. “I know, honey. It won’t last forever, and things’ll get back to normal. They will.”
She had no faith in the words she’d said. As far as she knew, things had never been like this with the club before. Certainly not while Max had been one of them.
With a brisk breath, Leah shook it off. “Okay. You’re right. I’m worried about him more than anything. He sounds…hyper. He said he’d try to come out here this weekend, at least. I told him you were opening the stand, and he wants to be here.”
Max had always helped out on the season’s first weekend. Deb grinned. “That’s good! That’ll be great!”
Leah smiled. “Yeah. I’m ready to work, if you are.”
Deb picked up her work gloves and tossed Leah’s pair to her. “Let’s get busy.”
~oOo~
That evening, after dinner, Deb finished up the dishes while her father and Leah sat in the living room, watching television and playing gin rummy.
She’d intended to spend the evening crafting—and she’d been headed in that direction when she paused at the phone on the wall. She stared at it, thinking about Leah and Max, and about herself, her life. What she wanted.
A need throbbed inside her. She let it become an idea. And then a decision.
At the living room entrance, she knocked on the wall to get her family’s attention. “Hey, you know what? I’m going to go into town and see Aly tonight.”
Her father nodded. “That’s nice. You haven’t seen her for a while, huh?”
“No. A few weeks. I miss her.”
“Maybe Leah would like to go, too.” He smiled at Max’s girl. “More fun than spending another night cooped up with an old man, I wager.”
Deb’s heart sank. Aly’s was not where she was going. She felt like a teenager, telling fibs, but right now, there was no earthly way she could be honest about where she meant to go and why. She smiled at Leah and tried to figure out a good dodge.
But Leah shook her head. “No, thanks. Maybe some other time. Gin.” She laid out her winning hand.
Deb’s father laughed. “You just don’t want to break your streak.”
Leah batted her eyes innocently, and, relieved, Deb laughed, too. “Okay. I’ll be home late. Have fun, you two.”
~oOo~
An hour later, she parked on Simon’s driveway. There’d been definite risk doing this—and it wasn’t the dangers of the Bulls, which were mainly abstract to her, as far removed from those as she’d been, that had her nervous. She’d come without calling, because she hadn’t wanted him to tell her to stay away. She didn’t know if he’d be home, and she could hardly seek him out at the clubhouse.
Well, he was home. She’d parked beside his bike. But the risks weren’t all resolved. What if he weren’t alone? What if he sent her away?
She would deal with those risks like a grownup. Lying to her father had been an adolescent move, maybe, but she was a woman in her mid-thirties. If she was about to face rejection, she’d deal with it like the grownup she actually was.
The porch light flipped on when she was only halfway up his front walk. The door opened, and he stood there, glaring at her, his forehead tight with confusion or anger, some negative feeling. Not really the welcome of her imagination.
His eyes locked with hers and then lifted, and he scanned the street behind her. Then he glared at her again. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah. I’m fine.” She reached him, and he took her hand and pulled her into his house and closed the door.
He’d obviously been planning a quiet night at home, probably with his models. His hair was caught back in a ponytail, and he wore only a pair of black basketball shorts. God, his chest. Just the sight of it, after spending these weeks thinking they were over and she wouldn’t see it or feel it or taste it again, made her mouth water.
His shorts sagged oddly on one side, and Deb tore her eyes from his bare chest, curious. She focused on that weird pull of his waistband and saw the butt of his Beretta poking from the pocket.
“You brought a gun to the door? Who were you expecting?”
“Nobody. I was expecting nobody to come to my door tonight.” He pulled the gun and set it on the nearest table in his living room. “Deb, what the hell? What are you doing here?”
She jumped right in before she could lose her nerve. “Why can’t it happen?”
“What?”
“Us. Why can’t it happen?”
He blinked. Repeatedly. But didn’t speak. That deep crease between his eyebrows wasn’t going away. Deb began, too late, to reconsider her hastily conceived plan.
However, she’d driven all the way here, and she was sick and tired of feeling moony and sad. At the very least, she wasn’t leaving without an answer, one that was better than those they’d laid out already. “I mean it. Why can’t it happen? Lots of Bulls have women. They make it work.”
With a shake of his head like he was waking himself up, he gestured toward his sofa. “Come sit down. You want a drink?”
“No. I want an answer.”
“I need a drink. Have a seat—I’ll be right back.” He turned and walked away, toward the kitchen. Deb stood where she was and watched him. He had a good ass. Even in basketball shorts. And he had a fantastic back—broad shoulders, narrow hips, just the right flare and contour, the tail of his club tattoo flicking across the span.
The light coming from his modeling room said that yeah, he had been working in there. She was curious, but decided that checking out what he was working on would distract them from the more pressing topic, so she picked up the newspapers strewn across his leather sofa—about three days’ worth—and sat down.
He brought two beer bottles in with him, both uncapped. “In case you change your mind.” He sat beside her and set a bottle on the coffee table before her. His own bottle, he put to his mouth and took a long pull. Then, finally, he said, “Okay. What?”
“When I was here before, we figured something out. About how we felt. Right?”
“Yeah, we did.” Though his expression remained wary and resistant, he didn’t hesitate to answer.
Feeling like she could breathe just a little bit better, Deb asked, “Do you still feel that way?”
“Yeah, I do.” No hesitation there, either, and his look softened, became almost a smile. “But Deb—there were good reasons we decided it couldn’t happen.”
She knew the reasons, all of them. But she wasn’t as sure they were all that good anymore. “What are they? The good ones?”
He frowned again. “Let’s start with yours. You didn’t want it, either. Now you do? Nothing’s changed, though. What about your dad?”
Starting with her dad, her life, was hard. Something had changed, but she didn’t know what it was. The thought that maybe she cared less than she’d thought about her life on the farm—that scared her. But maybe it was true. She didn’t know. “I don’t know. I love my dad. I don’t think I want to leave the farm. Would I have to? Do we need to figure that out right now? Do we have to have all the answers up front?”
“You’re the one who said you didn’t want complications in your life. I can’t make that call.”
“You said it, too.”
“No, I said my life is too complicated. And that’s true. Jesus, Deb. If you knew what kind of shit’s been going down…”
She watched the news, and she wasn’t an idiot. There had been a lot of stories lately about fires and attacks, swinging back and forth from the south to the north sides of town. It didn’t take a Mensa membership to understand that the Bulls were fighting a war.
That should matter. It really should. But right now, it didn’t. “I’m not an idiot. Max won’t let Leah come home. We watch the news. We can put one and one together and get two.”
He nodded, and then lifted his arms in a thorough shrug. “That’s what I bring.”
She counted off on her fingers: “Mo, Joanna, Maddie, Willa, Jenny, Patrice”—Simon winced at Patrice’s name, and she stopped. “What?”
“Nothing. I get your point. Lots of Bulls have women. You said. I know. But those women are at risk. Their men are willing to deal with that risk. I’m not. And what about your brother? He’s losing his shit without Leah, but he keeps her away anyway, because he’s scared she’ll get hurt if she’s close to him. You know what he’d do if I brought his sister close to me.”
Deb picked up the beer on the coffee table and drank several swallows. She turned back to Simon. “I can talk Max down.”
He rubbed his hand over his face. “Deb, come on. This is nuts.”
This conversation was not going the way she’d hoped. She’d harbored a fantasy that she’d show up at his door and he’d just grab her and kiss her and drag her off to bed. He’d done that many times before, when they were just fuck buddies.
“We fucked for a year and a half without anybody knowing. Right? Not my family, not your club, nobody. Right?” He didn’t answer, so she went on. “If nobody knows, there’s no risk. Nobody knows I’m attached to you, and if I’m at risk because Max is my brother, my attachment to you wouldn’t matter, anyway. Why can’t we be…whatever, in a relationship and keep it quiet? For now. Until things settle down, and then we deal with Max. Simon, I miss you. I thought I’d get over it, but it’s getting harder. I never stop thinking about you. If you don’t want me, then say that. That, I’ll get over. But knowing you want me, too, it’s driving me crazy staying away. If we feel the same way, then why can’t we?”
“Deb…”
He was going to tell her no, send her away. So she played her last card. “I’m in love with you. That’s what you didn’t want me to say last time. Well, I’m saying it. I love you. I want this.”
She set her bottle back on the coffee table. She took his from his hand and set it aside as well. He watched her, his green eyes wary, but he didn’t stop her. When she straddled his lap, he leaned back and made room.
“Deb,” he muttered.
“Do you feel the same? That’s all I care about right now.”
She set her hands on his wonderful chest and caressed its contours. Dark hair dusted lightly over his pecs and tapered to a fine line down the center of his belly. His club ink, a big tattoo of a charging bull, flames erupting from its nostrils, covered his right side, over his ribs and down to his hip, wrapped from front to back.
He set his beautiful, perfect hands on her arms. When she raised her eyes, she saw that he was watching her hands move over his body. His lips were parted. She could feel his desire for her, pressing at the inseam of her shorts.
“That’s the only question that matters, Simon. Do you love me?”
“I don’t want you hurt.”
“I’m hurting now. What’s your answer? If you don’t love me, I’ll go, and I’ll be okay. But if you do…”
“Fuck, Deb.”
“Simon, please.”
She knew his answer. His very reluctance to give her one told her what it was. What would she do if he lied and said he didn’t love her? She’d leave; she’d have no choice. And then she’d be miserable and marinate in the loss until she could pull herself out of it. One thing she’d never do again: lay herself out like this, holding her heart out on a platter.
“Jesus, this is so stupid. I love you,” he said and grabbed her by the neck, pulling her down to his mouth.
His kiss was so emphatic it seemed angry. He held her tightly to him, his fingers digging into the side of her neck, the strands of his beard etching their shape into her lips and cheeks. His tongue filled her mouth, sought her tongue, demanded its response. He kissed her as if he’d been starving and she could feed him this way.
Deb was with him wholeheartedly. She loved the way they fucked, wild and uninhibited, demanding each other’s complete attention, body and mind. Reaching behind his head, she found the elastic holding his hair back and snatched it free with a sharp pull. He reared back with an open-mouthed hiss, and she wound her fingers all up in his thick mass.
Wrapping her in his arms, he flipped them and laid her longwise on the sofa, settling his body beside hers and taking her mouth again. His erection dug at her thigh, and she could feel that it was free range inside those black shorts, but he knocked her hand away when she went for it. Instead, he ripped open the fly of her shorts and shoved his hand into her panties. His fingers found her clit right away, sliding slickly over and making her grunt.
But her clothes were holding them back. She writhed in his insistent grip, forcing him to give her her arms. When she hoisted up her hips to rid herself of her shorts and underwear, he helped, pulling them down her legs and away. Her sandals had been lost at some point in their wrestling.
He went for her t-shirt, too, pushing it up. She grabbed the hem and pulled it over her head. Simon latched onto her bare breast before she’d tossed the shirt away. And then his hand was where she’d wanted it, his fingers shoving deeply into her. He knew what she liked. She wrapped her arms around his head, hooked her leg over his, and made herself as loose as she could. “Go, go, go,” she pleaded.
She felt his chuckle against her breast. Then he sucked—hard, pulling her nipple against his teeth, and shoved another finger inside her, pushing his fingertips up into her wall, on the exact right spot. He fucked her hard with his hand, driving his fingers again and again and again, giving her the perfect painful pleasure that only he’d ever found in her. Each suck of her breast, each thrust of his hand, made the wave of burgeoning ecstasy swell until she was overtaken.
Throwing her head back, heedless of the string of guttural grunts and almost-words bursting from her lips, Deb fell into her climax, let it sweep her along in its current until it spilled her over the edge. She cried out, and wet his hand. But he didn’t stop. He forced her to come for what seemed like hours, until she was a whimpering, quivering soaking-wet mess.
He let go of her breast and grinned at her, obviously proud of himself.
She wasn’t so gone that she could let that go unchallenged. With her eyes locked on his, she found a reserve of strength and flipped them over—but she’d forgotten that they were on his sofa.
They fell to the floor with a chorus of crashes and grunts, shoving the coffee table away and knocking over both half-full bottles. Beer rained down over them. Simon laughed.
Deb laughed, too. “Shit. We’re always making a mess.” She moved to set the bottles upright, at least, but Simon grabbed her hand.
“Leave it.” He fumbled between them and freed his cock from the insignificant confines of his shorts. “Get on me.”
She did, sitting up on her knees and settling down onto him. God, his cock. Just exactly the right length and girth. He stretched her just enough, pressed just hard enough at her deepest limits that she felt fully fucked with each stroke, without feeling beaten up. It had a thick ridge along its underside, base to glans, that only showed itself when he was fully hard. That ridge was…noteworthy.
“Gimme those baby titties,” he growled and covered her small breasts with his large hands. As she flexed and surged on him, rising to their rhythm, he caught her nipples between his thumbs and the knuckles of his forefingers and pulled.
“Oh God!” Holy shit, she loved that so much. He pulled and twisted and then let them pop free, and she cried out again, speeding up on him, almost bouncing.
She wanted more of him. An impulse like a hunger overtook her and she dropped forward, slamming her chest to his. Her hips still driving him deep and deep and deep into her, her chest moving on his, his hair abrading her sensitive nipples, their sweat easing the slide of their skin, she pressed her lips to his throat. At first, it was just a kiss, but that wasn’t enough. She sucked, but that wasn’t enough. So she bit. He yelled, and drove his hips up, and she bit again. And again. His neck, his shoulder, his chest, his nipples, she bit and sucked and scratched and grabbed, all the while fucking him as hard as she could, feeling that surging wave finally amassing low in her belly, waiting for his moment to break over her again.
For his part, he yanked handfuls of her hair and held her to him. His inhales and exhales were so rough and loud he sounded like a jet engine. Every few breaths, a word would come through: “Goddammit.” “Fuck.” “Jesus.” “Sweet fuck.”
When she reached the edge of her orgasm, he felt it, too. She knew because he yelled “Thank Christ!” and his arms shoved under her thighs. He heaved her off his hips, slammed his feet onto the floor, and took over completely, crashing himself up into her, with wild abandon, until the wave burst through her, and she came.
As soon as she did, he followed, yelling until his breath gave out. He dropped her legs, and she fell back onto him, gasping as his still-hard cock sank deep again.
“Ahh!” he grunted at the same sensation. “Jesus.”
They lay in a heap together, sweating and panting, beer-soaked, and caught their breath. Deb nuzzled her face against his neck, smiling at the sight of a hickey already emerging below his beard.
Finally, he laughed. “This is stupid as hell, hon, but damn, I’m glad.”
“Are you?” She played with his beard.
“Yeah. I missed you, too.” He turned his head and lifted his shoulder. Knowing what he wanted, she lifted her head and met his eyes. Their seriousness surprised her. “I don’t want to sneak, Deb. It’s not right. We’re too old for kids’ games. We need to be chill so you’re not seen around with me while people are looking to hurt me, but the club needs to know. Gunner needs to know. Your dad.”
She was glad. It scared her, what Max would do, but she was glad. Sneaking was how they’d gotten into this mess in the first place and almost missed something great. “Okay. But I’ll tell him. He’ll take it better from me.”
“No. If you tell him, it means I’ve been keeping it from him. And it means I’m hiding behind you. It’s got to be me.”
“You have been keeping it from him. Me, too.”
“I know. It’ll only be worse if it’s not me that comes clean. So let me do it.”
He was right. “Can we tell him together?” She knew the answer even as she asked.
“Deb…”
“I know. I just…he’s going to hit you.”
He laughed. “At least. It’s okay. I’ve been beat down before. Club won’t let it go farther than that.”
She pushed herself up and glared down at him. “Jesus. You guys are barely human sometimes, you know that?”
“Hey now. I’m not the cannibal in the room.” He made a game-show-hostess wave over his chest, and she looked down and saw probably a dozen bruises blooming over his skin—and some small cuts, too. His softening cock slid from her as she surveyed the damage she’d inflicted in her feral need.
“Sorry. I just…”
He pulled her back into their snug embrace. “Don’t sweat it. I love how wild you are when we fuck. Never known another woman like you.”
His last sentence put a thought in her mind, and she rose up again to face him. “Simon…I’m not…if we’re doing this…”
His brow furrowed lightly. “If? I thought we passed ‘if’ a little ways back.”
“Since we’re doing this,” she corrected with a smile. “I’m not going to be okay with the sweetbutts anymore. I don’t want to share you.”
He grinned and lifted his head from the floor to kiss her nose. “I wouldn’t, even if you hadn’t asked.” His chuckle blew across her cheek. “In fact, I’ve been solo since the last time you were here.”
“Yeah?” That had been weeks ago. She’d been solo, too, but her celibacy wasn’t so unusual. His, on the other hand… “Really?”
“Really. I thought I’d go for it a few times, but…well, I couldn’t get up for it. Seems like my dick and me, we know what we want. Started to worry me, since we weren’t doing this.”
“Regrets? For doing this?”
He took a deep breath, and concern rolled over his face. “Not regret. Worry, though. You don’t know, Deb. Things are pretty intense.”
She thought of something he’d said earlier. “People are trying to hurt you?”
“Yeah, they are. That’s why I came to the door with a gun. I heard your car pull up, and I didn’t know any friend who’d come unannounced. I’m serious, Deb. Even now, we got to play it cool. Gun’s right to keep Leah out with you. When we see each other, from now on, I’ll go to you. When it’s safe.”
The years the Max had been a Bull had taught her that these men led dangerous lives. She’d known that long before she’d ever seen Simon naked, and she’d known that things were especially dangerous around the club right now. She hated the thought of Simon, or her brother, getting hurt, being targeted, but it didn’t dissuade her from this path. It did encourage her to trust them both about what would keep everybody safest.
Except, of course, not getting together at all.
“Okay, I’ll follow your lead. But Max is coming out this weekend. I’m opening up my stand for the season, and he wants to help out. Maybe you could come out with him?”
Another laugh shook his chest—and hers, tucked against him. “Well, let’s see how it goes when I tell him about us. But if I’m walking on two good legs, and he’s talking to me, then yeah. I’ll help out, too.” His expression turned to something more serious and intent, and he fed a hand into her hair. “For now, stay the night with me. Don’t scoot out into the dark tonight.”
She’d told her dad and Leah that she was going to visit Aly. She checked her watch. It was just past nine o’clock; not that much time had passed since she’d pulled up to Simon’s house. Taking a minute to strategize, she figured out what to do. Over the phone, half an hour before he went to bed, was not the time to tell her father that she was seeing anyone, much less a Bull, even less that she was spending the night.
She would call Aly and clue her in, then call her dad and tell him she’d had too much wine with Aly and would be home in the morning. More high school shenanigans, but the last of them. When she got home, she’d talk to her father. That conversation was bound to be uncomfortable, but nothing like what Simon faced.
She nodded. “Okay. I have to make a couple of calls, but yeah.”
His grin made it all worth it. He rolled to his side, shifting behind her, and hooked her knee on his arm, lifting her leg high. He was hard again, and she helped him push into her again, moaning as he filled her.
“Wow,” she chuckled, when she could take her next breath. “You’re a machine tonight.”
He thrust hard and groaned against her ear. “My dick and me, we know what we want.”
Holy shit. She loved him. He loved her. They were in love.
Maybe relationships weren’t so bad after all.