Audrey is an absolute fucking vision in her watermelon print one-piece swimsuit. I bet she bought it to be funny. She had no idea the suit made her sexier than sin.

I sense Audrey significantly underestimated the fucking power of her smoking-hot body on my male brain. The girl is lucky I’m not grunting wedding vows while dragging her back to my lair for breeding.

Beyond her curves, Audrey guts me with her expressive face. I’m hit by both the aggressive defiance in her dark eyes and extreme insecurity of her pouty lips. In a lot of ways, Audrey Johansson is a tiny, diva version of me.

I’m the first to admit my family spoiled me rotten. In my heart, I remain the pampered angel they told me I was all my life. On the outside, I’m a calculating crusher of obstacles. One of our minions was overheard saying if my dad was as mean as a junkyard dog then I was his rabid offspring.

Don’t know if that’s true. I certainly never feel scarier than him. My dad is a tough guy while I’m a teddy bear that occasionally gnaws off the faces of the enemy. Most days, I’m sweeter than honey.

My dueling sides aren’t so different than what I see in Audrey. Still a pampered child under the protective reach of her powerful father, she is also a volatile woman capable of riding hard next to her pop. I don’t doubt she’d take lives like him too. There’s a hard edge to her that comes from growing up with the knowledge that certain people end up dead in her world.

With her on the shallow end and me on the deep side, I watch her rough side struggle with her pampered side. Everything is played out on her expressive face.

Her arms more than once cover her chest before she finally rests them at her side. She bites her lower lip and then licks where she nipped. I watch her every movement, mesmerized by her decision-making. I hadn’t expected Audrey to freeze up in the restroom. I wrongly assumed she’d saunter out like a big shit, ready to show off what God and good genetics shined upon her.

Audrey remains a stranger with her secrets waiting to be shared. Her idiosyncrasies await my discovery. Her past—every story of triumph or embarrassment, every friend or enemy, what kind of monsters she thought lived in her closet or under her bed—still need to be learned. Our entire life together stands before us, and I’m fucking psyched to get started.

“Why are you staring at me?” she asks me in a rough whisper.

“Realizing you’re the woman of my dreams is a helluva thing.”

Audrey’s mouth falls open. Somehow, she’s shocked by my words despite my obviously craving her from the start. With her looking so uncertain, I give her a break from my intense gaze. Turning away, I push off and swim from the deep end and back. Every time I find her standing awkwardly, I take another lap. Unfortunately, I underestimate how damn good I look swimming, and the poor thing can’t get her head on straight with a wet sex god in her presence.

I finally relax on the deep end and smile across the pool at her. My wet hair drips gently in my eyes until I run a hand through it. She watches my every move like a terrified bunny ready to hop her ass to safety.

“What spurred you to call me tonight?” I ask; my voice echoing in the enclosed pool area.

Audrey doesn’t react immediately. Lust-induced fog keeps her from speaking for a long damn time. Finally, she blinks and awakes from her horny thoughts.

“Rando said to live for the moment, just in case I get my head cut off.”

“Are head removals a big concern in Kentucky?”

“They are with Rando.”

“And who is Rando?”

“My sister, Miranda.”

“Why Rando?”

“In elementary school, another girl was named Miranda, so she decided to be Randi. Then in her freshman year in high school, a boy named Randy arrived, and she didn’t want to be Girl Randi. That’s when she decided on Rando. My parents thought it was a phase because she had a million of them. It’s like ten years later, and we’re still calling her Rando, though.”

“What’s she like?” I ask, noticing how when she talks about her family that the tension loosens in her rigid shoulders.

“Weird. There are a few stories in the family about why she’s that way. One is that she sniffed glue as a kid, but my brother, Colt, came up with that idea, and he’s usually wrong. The one I believe is that my uncle dropped her on her head when she was like a year old. The story goes that afterward my parents took her to the hospital and had her checked out. Supposedly, the doctors said she was fine except that she was weird after that day. Now I have no actual proof, but I still believe that story. Like once, Rando showed up after getting into a fistfight with a trucker. She’d used her moped to stop traffic on a two-lane road to allow a family of geese to cross. The trucker got out and yelled at her. Unlike anyone with the normal number of brain cells, Rando threw down with the large, angry man. When Pop heard what she did, he immediately sucker-punched Uncle Tucker.”

Audrey pauses to smile at the memory. I love how beautifully relaxed she gets when thinking about her family. One day, talking about me will make her smile in such an amazing way.

“I’d seen Pop punch his brother a few times after one of Rando’s weird moments,” Audrey says and takes a step deeper into the pool, “but that particular time was when I knew for sure. Normally, Pop and Tucker roughhouse like stupid little boys do. Not the times when Pop is pissed about Rando, though. So, yeah, I’m ninety-nine percent certain that Uncle Tucker dropped poor baby Miranda on her noggin.”

“Do you two get along?”

“Probably the best out of the four of us,” she says, taking another step forward, so the water now reaches above her waist.

“Is your family tight-knit?”

“I guess. I mean I like my parents. Rando and I hang out at times when it’s animal related. I can’t stand Colt, and Lily is the family’s princess. I like some of my cousins. Still, I’d be happiest if it was just me, Mom, and Pop. Why, are you super weird tight with your family?”

“I shamelessly admit that I’m crazy tight with my family. My brother and sister are fun and cool and torment me in all the best fucking ways. They married cool people and have cool kids. Both in-laws come with cool families. Most of all, my parents are badass motherfuckers.”

“Freak.”

“Jealous hater,” I mock, splashing water at her while fighting laughter.

A grinning Audrey retaliates with her own splashes. “Can you blame me?”

“No, I most definitely can’t, but you could one day call them family.”

“Too fast is too crazy.”

“Not if you’re worried about your head getting ripped off in the near future. In that scenario, slow is crazy.”

“You make a good point.”

“I always do.”

Still moving deeper into the pool and closer to me, Audrey rolls her eyes. “Your arrogance is childish.”

“And what is your arrogance?”

“Charming,” she says and smiles. “I wish I could scare people the way you did with the clerk and those rednecks.”

“All you need to do is build a reputation as an unhinged psycho and people will bow to your will.”

“That’s easy for you to say since you’re the size of a mountain while I’m normal human-sized.”

I inch closer. Not enough to spook her, but she still notices. I doubt I take a single breath without her feeling it.

“Size is only part of it. You must know that, right? Your dad is big and strong, and he’s got a rugged, tatted persona. However, if he didn’t back up all his fucking bravado with violence, no one would bow to him, especially not other rugged, tatted men.”

“So you think I should shoot someone then?” she asks as her rich dark eyes struggle to focus on my face rather than my bare chest.

“No, not necessarily, but do you have any enemies?”

“Only the enemies of the club.”

“You need personal enemies, and you need to make an example of one. Hit them like you hit me. Make sure you leave a mark somewhere people can see.”

Audrey shakes her head, disbelieving anyone could fear someone of her tiny stature.

“Cricket once had an enemy whose car was broken into every single day,” I murmur, seducing her with my calm. I watch Audrey’s breathing slow, and her jaw relaxes. “This girl’s house kept getting broken into too, so she got a security system. Rather than help, someone kept setting it off by attempting to break in. The damn thing went off a few times a day, but the cops never caught anyone. Next, she set up cameras around her porch, but someone spray-painted over the lenses. Next, she bought a dog. A day later, someone let it loose and animal control picked it up. She paid the fine and took her dog back home, only for someone to let it out again. That happened a dozen times.”

I lean my head back to wet my hair again. Slicking it back, I smile. “People in town started whispering about how someone was clearly targeting the bitch. And can you guess who’d gotten into a very public fight with her a week prior to the problems beginning? Why if it wasn’t Cricket Wilburn. No one ever proved my sister was harassing the bitch, of course. That doesn’t stop people from fearing her now. Would you want to mess with a person capable of such long-term fuckery? No, no, you wouldn’t, and that’s why people don’t mess with Cricket. They’re not scared of my dad or me or Cricket’s biker husband. They’re afraid of her.”

“So I need to find someone and pick on them relentlessly.”

“Not anyone though. Pick an asshole. People need to know the fuckery happens as punishment for bad behavior. If you go around tormenting weak or innocent people, then you become a monster. That’s not what you want, right?” I ask, and Audrey shakes her head. “The goal is for people to understand that if they behave, you’ll behave. The worst kind of dictators are the ones who indiscriminately target people.”

“So you’re a benevolent dictator?”

“Exactly. Most people in White Horse will never think twice about seeing me, just like they didn’t when they saw my dad when he was rising up to take over shit. They don’t need to think about us. They can go about their lives, working, raising kids, paying taxes. Those are the normal citizens. On the other side of the equation are the assholes who know us very well. Those are the type of people who you make an example of.”

“What did that girl do to Cricket?”

“Stole her purse. The bitch stole a lot of purses, laptops, wallets. She liked to spend time where the elderly hung out. She’d play games with Grams and Papa while freeing them from their valuables. The cops suspected her of the thefts, but they never could pin anything on her. Cricket couldn’t prove it either. She did loudly accuse her, though, after noticing her shady behavior. Hell hath no fury like my sister losing her kids’ tablets. The mini-twins didn’t care half as much as their mother. Oh, Cricket was pissed, and everyone knew she was pissed. Now people know what’ll happen if someone pisses her off again.”

Audrey pretends to think about her options for a target, but I know she’s really wondering if I’m about to kiss her.

“Wonder no longer, darling,” I say, wrapping her in my arms.

Audrey stiffens and growls, “I’m saying no.”

As soon as I let go, her powerful scowl shifts quickly into a grin. “I’m saying yes.”

I sweep her back against me and wait to see her next move.

“You’re so obedient,” she teases as her dark eyes study my face up close and personal.

“What I need to know,” I whisper, still holding her while stepping into the deeper end, “is if you can hold your breath?”

Audrey’s pleased seductive expression shifts into panic just as I dunk us under the water. My father once told me giving people what they want isn’t as important as providing them what they need.

And as clear as day, this sexy diva needs to cool off. So she might want a kiss—and I’d love to provide her with my willing lips—but I give her a nice dunk in the lukewarm water instead.