Tightening my fingers around Hammon’s throat, it takes everything in me not to kill the son of a bitch for the way he talked to Henley. The unease and hatred that radiated off her only fed my already brewing rage. Not that I needed to be here for the conversation to know this fucker is bad news. After what she told me the other night, I’d already put that shit together in my head.

Throwing him into the wall beside the elevator, I size him up. I can’t imagine the Henley I know marrying this rich bitch looking motherfucker. He stinks of privilege and money he didn’t work a day in his life to earn. Something I can’t see her falling for.

None of it adds up.

Torch releases Hammon’s goon, shoving the asshole into the elevator doors. “Stay the fuck away from my sister.” Quickly emptying the bullets from the gun, he tosses it to their feet.

Stepping forward, I flank Torch, ready to back him up, or step in if he takes it too far. I learned a long time ago that controlling every situation is impossible. The only thing you can control is your reaction, then work to steer the outcome. This is where Torch and I differ. While my moves are more calculated and thought out, his are more reckless and driven by his amped up emotions. This usually has him going off half-cocked and making shit worse.

Hammon’s goon steps up beside him, though he doesn’t look ready to fight. The little bitch looks ready to run like hell. Clearing his throat, he grabs Hammon’s arm. “Sir?”

“And if I don’t?” Hammon challenges arrogantly, ignoring his man.

“Believe me,” I growl, restraining myself from throwing the fucker over the stairwell railing. “You’re not prepared to cross that line, motherfucker.”

“Who the hell do you think you are?” Hammon’s eyes snap to me, disgust filling them. I have half a foot and at least fifty pounds on this asshole, and he has the balls to look down on me. Cocky bastard.

“Who me?” I smile confidently, making sure he knows his bullshit won’t work on me. Crossing my arms over my chest, I take another step toward him, crowding his space. “I’m the guy who’s got no problem rackin’ up the assault charge. Henley’s mine.” I narrow my eyes. “Walk away.”

Hammon swallows hard. “For now.” Stepping back, he straightens. Grinning, his eyes move to where Torch stands shaking with rage. “But this isn’t over.”

“You let me know when you’ve found your balls, fucker.” Looking to Hammon, he nods, his jaw clenching. “I’ll be waiting.”

The two men turn to leave, Hammon stomping toward the stairwell like a pissy teenager. Watching over the railing, we listen to him rant and rave the entire walk to the curb, where his town car is waiting. Fucking pussy. Turning to Torch, I pin him with a stare when he starts to charge after him. His body jerks, his fists balled at his sides while he works over what to do next.

“Know you’re keyed up,” I start, reading him like a fucking book. “Not about to let this shit go down with Henley here and a cop in the building. So here’s how this is gonna work.” Towering over him, I continue. “You’ll have to go through me to get to him. Brother or not, you’ll only get one shot at me before I put your ass on the ground.” Tapping my jaw with two fingers, I bite back the laugh I know will only piss him off more. “Either make it a good one or calm the fuck down.”

“Jesus.” Blowing out a breath, Torch stares me down. That Wolfe temper I’ve seen all too many times in the last few days, drains from his face. His brows pinch together as he studies me. “I’m not hittin’ you,” he grunts, yanking a hand through his hair.

“Smart.” Jerking my phone from my pocket, I fire off a text to Jinks, letting him know what I need before sending one to Stone. Not waiting for a reply from either man, I shove it back into my pocket and look to Torch. “Because you’d lose.”

Torch doesn’t argue. He also doesn’t admit I’m right.

“Who the hell do you think you are, asshole?” Henley grounds out the moment Torch and I step back into the apartment.

“Henley,” Rebel hisses from the kitchen.

“Don’t you Henley me, goddammit,” she snarls at her friend, but her gaze stays fixed on the two of us. Stepping closer, her stormy eyes flash with rage. “Did you only turn away those who came to see me at the hospital, Donnie?” she seethes. “Or did your keeping me prisoner count things like phone calls and letters too?”

“You’ve gotta be fuckin’ kiddin’ me,” Torch growls, charging around me. “Two goddamn seconds of that motherfucker whisperin’ in your ear and I’m the bad guy? Real fuckin’ classic, Hen.”

Reaching out, I snatch his arm before he can get any closer to her. “Cool it,” I warn, knowing everyone is still tweaked from before. Including me.

“This doesn’t involve you, Colt,” he warns, yanking free of my grip. “My sister needs to know that I didn’t run to hospital administration to handle that fucker. Trust me, if I had any goddamn clue that bastard was sniffin’ around, I would’ve handled it personally. With a shovel and a fuckin’ smile.”

“And, at the time, we couldn’t risk that,” I admit, stepping quickly between the two of them. “Which is why I took care of it.”

“You what?” Henley and Torch shout in unison.

“Well this has to be a record,” Rebel interrupts, clearing her throat. “It only took that worm two minutes of stirring the shit pot before it boiled over and made a mess.”

Henley’s puffed out chest deflates, her shoulders slumping slightly. Looking my way, the rage in her eyes is quickly replaced with something else. Something that stings. Disappointment. “I’m going to bed.”

“We’re not done talking about this shit, Henley,” Torch snaps, attempting to move around me.

“Done talking,” she says, turning for the hallway. “Done listening. Just fucking done.”

Henley disappears, followed by a door closing. “Oh shit,” Rebel says, pouring herself a glass of wine. “She’s pissed.”

“I hadn’t noticed,” Torch barks, heading to the fridge. “Any other clearly obvious shit you feel the need to point out, smartass?”

Facing us, Rebel leans back against the counter. Arching a brow, she takes a small sip of her wine. “No,” she replies, studying Torch’s ass as he digs through the fridge for a beer. “It’s more fun to watch you fumble around blind.” Rebel’s eyes move to me. “Last door on the left, honey,” she says, clearly reading my thoughts.

Not wasting time with conversation, I jerk my chin in thanks and go in search of Henley. Light shines from under the door, but I don’t hear much coming from the room. “Hen?” I ask, tapping lightly before turning the knob.

“Go away,” she chokes out, clearing her throat.

“Doesn’t work that way with me, babe.” Pushing the door open, I shut it behind me before closing the distance between us.

Henley sits at the foot of the bed, her toes not quite touching the light blue carpet. She doesn’t look up at me. Not even when I stop right in front of her knees and ask her to. Stubborn ass. Instead, she stares down at her hands, twisting her fingers in her lap. “You went to hospital administration behind my back.”

“Didn’t go behind your back,” I answer, not that she asked. “What I did was take care of the problem.”

“That wasn’t your choice to make,” she fires back, finally looking up at me. “Had you asked me—”

“Asked you what?” Cutting her off, I squat down so we are eye to eye. Bracing my hands on either side of her, I lean in close enough to feel the heat coming off her body. “You were in no shape to call shots, babe. Still aren’t. This motherfucker sends you flowers; comes here, knowin’ he wasn’t welcome. Tauntin’ you about the club while you’re still fucked up. The piece of shit was gettin’ off on makin’ you uneasy in your own space,” I growl, still pissed about how shit went down. “From what I can tell, the only mistake I made was not bashin’ his teeth down his goddamn throat the moment he stepped through your door.”

“I never asked you to fight my battles,” she argues, raising her voice.

“No, you didn’t,” I agree. “You’re hellbent and determined to fight every goddamn battle for yourself. I respect that about you, babe.” Reaching out, I run my thumb over her jaw. Her lips part slightly, showing a small crack in her resolve. “I made a call based on your reaction. You need to understand if he comes at you again and pulls that kind of shit, he learns how ugly life gets when you fuck with what’s mine.”

“Yours?” Her eyes narrow into almost non-existent slits. “Listen up, Beefcake,” she grounds out, looking ready to rip my fucking head off and spit down my throat. “I don’t belong to you, or anyone else.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, babe.” Grabbing her face with both hands, I lean in and run my nose along hers. “You’ve been mine since that night on the pool table. It’s time we both get right with that,” I say, slamming my mouth to hers before she can say a damn thing in return. Mad as hell, Henley bites down on my bottom lip. Fuck. I want this woman.

My hands go to her ass, pulling her body closer, but making sure not to push too far and hurt her. She sighs softly, her body relaxing into mine the moment my tongue touches hers. Tilting her head, she brings her hand up to my jaw, kissing me hungrily. Growling, I fight the urge to deepen the kiss and give us the release we both need.

The time will come for that soon enough.

“Fuckin’ hell.” Burying my face in her neck, I blow out a ragged breath. Gripping onto my forearm with one hand, she digs in her nails, shivering as my words race over her skin. “That stubborn streak of yours is gonna be the death of me, woman.”

“Are you going to kiss me stupid every time we disagree?”

Sitting back, I meet her wide eyes. Her lips are parted and swollen, her face flushed. “I don’t know, babe,” I reply, tracing her bottom lip with my thumb. “There a better way to shut you up?”

Her lips twitch up into a smile, stoking the fire that always seems to be burning under my skin for her. “Very funny,” she snorts, rolling her eyes.

“We done with this heart to heart?” I ask, releasing her to stand to my feet.

“For now,” she sighs, nodding her head.

“Great.” Kicking off my shoes, I yank off my cut and t-shirt and throw them to her dresser. Yawning, I stretch out on her bed, making myself comfortable. Flashing her a smile, I pat the pillow beside me. “I’m fuckin’ beat.”

Henley

I’m on fire.

My skin burns. Every cell of my body aching, building towards a release that never comes. I am stuck riding the fine line between Heaven and Hell, with Colt being the one behind the wheel. It is the most exquisite torture.

“You want my mouth, Hotness?” he asks, pressing a kiss just below my belly button. Moaning, I writhe shamelessly under his hands. His calloused fingertips slide up my inner thighs, not quite reaching where I need him most. My hands tangle his hair, tugging at the damp blonde strands in an attempt to take what I need. Him. “Be a good girl and say please,” he purrs, smiling against my skin when I whimper. Shifting his body, he presses his lips to my pelvic bone.

“Colt,” I pant, pleading for him to unravel the knots he has so effortlessly tied me in. Digging my teeth into my bottom lip, I arch my back.

“Say it, Henley,” he breathes before tracing a line up my inner thigh with his tongue. “Then, I’ll give you what you want.”

“Please,” I beg, unable to recognize my own voice.

“Beautiful,” he growls against my clit. Sliding his hand up my body, he squeezes my breast. “Eyes open, babe. Watch me eat this pretty pussy.”

My eyes fly open, meeting the fire brewing in his. He licks his lips, an ominous smile spreading across his face that has my stomach flipping. Lowering his head, he blows lightly up my center. “Fuck!” I cry out, bucking off the mattress.

“Mmm,” he hums in satisfaction before wrapping his lips around my clit.

My body tightens like a spring with every flick of his tongue. Colt eats at me like a man starved, bringing me to the edge over and over, only to keep me there, hanging on by a thread each time. I writhe and whimper, begging for release in incoherent sobs of pleasure and desperation. “Come,” he growls, thrusting two fingers inside me. His mouth goes to work on my clit again, sucking and flicking in time with each thrust of his fingers. My hips buck off the bed, riding his face and fingers like I need the orgasm they are about to give me in order to live.

“Colt!”

Bolting upright, my eyes fly open, my body sore and aching, quickly reminding me of my injuries. Finding myself alone in my bed, I fall back against the pillows. “Holy shit,” I gasp, my entire body humming as I stare up at the ceiling, trying like hell to get a handle on my breathing.

“Hey.” Colt’s voice nearly has me leaping out of my skin. Looking over, I find his broad body filling the doorway. His feet and chest still bare from before. His jeans hang low on his hips, exposing the top of a bandage on his right side to go with the various bruises and scratches that mar his chest and arms. Beer in one hand, he leans against the doorjamb, concern filling his eyes. “Heard you yellin’. You okay?”

Fuck a duck. I want to climb this man like a tree.

“Yeah. Just a dream.” Pushing the blanket away, I sit up and slide my legs off the side of the bed. “You actually get any sleep?” I ask, pushing to my feet. “Or do you run on junk food and testosterone?”

He chuckles, the sound washing over me like the warmest ocean wave. “I caught a couple hours before I had to check on some shit,” he tells me, though doesn’t elaborate. Not that I figured he would. “I’m about to eat breakfast. You hungry?”

“You cooked?” I ask, not quite sure if I believe it. Colt has the appetite of a ravenous wolf, but I also have never seen him eat anything that wasn’t takeout, junk food, or prepared by Cheyenne at the clubhouse.

“Hell no.” Pushing off the doorjamb, he gestures for me to follow. “I had the prospect bring Denny’s. I can’t get Huck’s dog to eat my cookin’.”

The kitchen island is stacked with black plastic containers, to-go cups of coffee, and cartons of orange juice. “Jesus,” I breathe, taking in the insane amount of food. “Did you order enough for the entire building?”

His eyes snap to mine. “Fuck no,” he answers, his tone stone cold serious. “I’m hopin’ there’s enough to share with you.”

“You’re joking.”

“Babe.” His brows raise, disappearing behind the veil of blonde hair. “I never joke about food.”

“I can see that.” Snagging myself a carton of orange juice, I take a seat at the table.

Grabbing two plates from the cabinet, Colt goes to work on dividing up the food. Sipping my juice, my eyes are glued to his bare upper body. His arms and chest muscles bulge and flex with every move he makes. I could spend hours tracing every hard, ink-covered line of definition on his body with my fingers and tongue. I’d also be forced to spend extra time anywhere that resulted in one of those hot as fuck growls that vibrates from deep in his chest.

Picking up both plates, he rounds the island, making his way toward me. Something so simple as Colt being domestic in my kitchen has me damn near salivating.

Freaking hell, what’s wrong with me?

Putting the plates down, he grabs another container before sitting beside me. Looking between the two, I laugh at the insane amount of food on them. “Colt, there’s no way I can eat all this,” I say, gesturing to the pile of eggs, bacon, sausage, hash browns, and toast on my plate.

“I’ll eat what you don’t finish. First, try this.” Placing the container between us, he flips open the lid. Inside, is an order of nachos. The chips covered in both nacho and shredded cheese, chili, pico di gallo, sour cream, and scrambled eggs.

“Do you really have scrambled eggs on your nachos?” I ask, fighting the urge to smile as he stares at the mess like a kid seeing his gifts under the tree on Christmas morning.

“Open for me, babe,” he purrs, flashing me a smile. Grabbing a chip, he holds it up to my lips. “Prepare to have your fuckin’ mind blown.”

I blink at his words. My mouth falls open. Not because of my willingness to try his breakfast nachos, but in surprise at how his words affect me. Not wasting a beat, Colt shoves the piled chip into my mouth, before grabbing a bigger one for himself.

“Good, right?” he asks before shoveling in his bite.

“Not bad,” I admit, reaching for one of the forks sitting between us. “Where’s Donnie?” I ask, not seeing him on the couch.

“Had some shit to handle,” he answers around a bite of food. “Be back later tonight.”

“Club business?” I ask, glancing his way.

“Club business,” he nods.

Colt and I sit, eating in comfortable silence for a while. Although, it should be said, Colt doesn’t simply eat his breakfast. He demolishes it. By the time I have made any kind of dent in my plate at all, the big man beside me has polished off his sizably larger portion, along with almost all the nachos. “Need to ask you somethin’,” he says, pushing his empty plate away.

“Yes,” I giggle, sliding my plate his way. “I’m finished.”

“Thanks.” Grabbing the fork, he starts stacking eggs, bacon, and the last of my hash browns onto one of the two remaining slices of toast. Inhaling half the sandwich, he looks my way. “But that wasn’t my question.”

“Oh,” I shrug my good shoulder. “What is it?”

“Some major club shit goin’ down next couple days,” he explains, watching me carefully. “Need you at the clubhouse while it goes down.”

“That doesn’t sound like a question,” I challenge. “Sounds like you’re dictating orders and expecting me to fall in line without giving me all the information.”

He sighs, the sound coming out more like a frustrated growl. “Fine.” Turning his entire chair and body to face me, he grabs the lip of my chair, yanking it until it bumps his. My hands fly up, flattening against his chest, his pecs twitching beneath my fingers. Running his hands up my arms, his thumbs brush the undersides of my breasts. His eyes darken when I tremble. “What if I say pack a bag and come crash at my place? I wanna see that fine ass sprawled out across my sheets.” Pushing my hair off my shoulder, he leans in, nipping my earlobe with his teeth. “Dyin’ to hear the sounds you make when I bury my face in that sweet pussy.”

My stomach flips, my clit pulsing with need. “Jesus,” I groan, slamming my eyes shut. Reality and my dream starting to mesh together, making it almost impossible to separate the two in my head. Or gather my thoughts on the shit he is laying out. “We need to talk about this, Colt.”

“Hotness,” he growls, smiling against the sensitive skin below my ear, his beard only adding to the rush of sensation. Sliding his hand up the back of my neck, he tangles his fingers in my hair. His other hand goes to my ass as he carefully pulls me astride him. I gasp when his hips shift, grinding me onto his already hard cock. “Don’t waste energy arguin’ the inevitable,” he murmurs, bringing his lips to mine. “Save it for ridin’ my face.”