CHARLOTTE
Holding onto Deck’s hand, I walked beside him into the compound. I wasn’t sure why they called it a compound. It looked more like the inside of one of those detention centres I had seen on 60 Minutes a few months ago. Although I had to say, it was incredibly clean despite ten or more grown men living there.
The other day, I was so nervous, I hadn’t taken too much notice, but now all I saw was a very clean and tidy room. A very large room.
“What’s going through your mind, Sweetness?”
Deck’s question brought me back to the moment. I could feel my cheeks heat, embarrassed to be caught checking things out.
“It’s so clean,” I admitted softly. To that, Deck threw his head back and laughed uproariously.
“Charlie, we are all former soldiers. Order and precision is part of our DNA, but we do have a girl who comes in and cleans and cooks for us,” he said, tugging me over to a plush leather chair where he sat down before pulling me into his lap.
Again, I felt my cheeks heat.
“What?” he asked, his voice a rumble in my ear. His hands were all over me. Everything about Deck consumed me. Personal space did not exist in his vocabulary, and I wasn’t sure I wanted it to be.
So I told him.
“I like this,” I whispered softly as his lips floated along my neck. Barely touching, but I could feel his breath. Biting my lip, I held back the moan threatening to escape. Hells bells, I couldn’t think when he did this to me.
“What do you like, Sweetness? Tell me,” he prompted, ghosting his lips along my jaw and closer to my mouth, but he didn’t go there. Dang it.
I turned in his lap a little, which, considering my tight skirt, wasn’t easy. When Deck realised what my intentions were, he used his strength to lift and situate me so my legs were still demurely arranged, and not open like a Britney Spears moment, but so we were sitting straight on, face-to-face.
He was so very handsome. His hair was shockingly short against his scalp, but what was there was soft. Not spiky. Just for a fleeting second, I wished his hair were a bit longer, to run my fingers through it would have been an amazing experience.
“Sweetness.” Deck grinned at me as if he knew where my head was lost. It wasn’t a cocky smile, but a man confident in his attraction for a woman.
Groaning slightly at being caught yet again, I ignored his grin and let my thoughts out. I may as well, right? If Deck wanted all in, then I should be, too.
“I like that you touch me all the time. Like you can’t go without touching me,” I admitted shyly. Unlike Deck, my confidence was close to zero, especially when dealing with a guy. However, when his grin dropped from his face and was replaced with a look of desire—his eyes, those perfectly beautiful sapphire blue eyes were now a deep, deep blue, almost black—I sucked in a breath, the intensity of the moment stealing my ability to breathe.
“It’s good you like it, Sweetness,” he said, his voice a deep rumble while his gaze demanded my attention. I couldn’t look away even if I’d wanted to. “It’s going to happen a lot more, Charlie. Enough said,” he declared, and then kissed me on my temple before settling us back more comfortably in the chair.
“Tell me about this place. Why did you and Booth start it?” I asked after a few minutes of comfortable silence, just enjoying being with each other, and learning about each other, becoming comfortable together—becoming something.
I could feel his apprehension, and I thought he was going to tell me to mind my own business. After all, I had already sort of insulted his lifestyle the day before when I’d brought Shiloh home in my car, not trusting Darth to bring her home on his bike—although it was illegal, so I’d had a valid point—but then Deck started to talk.
“Coming home from war is harder than most civilian people would think. In the army, we had a purpose, a reason for getting up every morning. Everything is regimented. Men work as a team, have each other’s backs.” When he stopped briefly, I could see he was lost somewhere back there. “Trust each other with our lives,” he finished. The pain in his voice was palpable, and I regretted asking him. I had no right to bring up painful parts of his past.
“Deck, I’m sorry, plea—” But he cut me off, obviously wanting to continue his story.
“We were lost. Not fitting in anymore. Not quite belonging. So Booth, who was my CO in the army, came up with the idea of our own club. We didn’t want to be part of the outlaw shit, but we wanted to continue the brotherhood we’d had in the army.”
I angled my head so I could see his face and felt relief when I saw his smile.
“So, Booth, Mannix, Creed, Steel, and I started the Wounded Souls MC. Mannix and Steel are the only two who are actually blood brothers.”
“And Darth?” I asked, encouraged by his smile to ask more questions.
“Darth was in our unit, but he didn’t rotate out when the four of us did, but as soon as his time was up, he got on his bike and joined us straightaway. And over time, along came Ford, our tech guy, and Squid, Dundee, and Seb. And also, Lucky, but he is our only still actively serving member.”
“So he is still in the army?”
“Yep, he is prospecting here over a few years. Normally, it’s just one year if we are happy with their fit in the club, but with Lucky still overseas, his time here is taking a bit longer. His focus must be on his duties in the service, not here.”
Nodding my head, I took in what he was saying, starting to understand how serious they take their commitment to anything they do.
“Why do only the four of you have different patches on your, um, cuts.” I remembered the term he’d used for their leather jackets.
“It’s like the army. It’s a rank, and all MCs have them. We aren’t dissimilar to the traditional MC there. It’s a brotherhood and family unit. Everything in the confines of these walls is protected with a fierceness no one else could ever understand. We just stay away from drugs and illegal gun dealing, that’s all.”
“And the women?” It was a question I needed to ask. Although I’d met Julie and found her to be quite friendly, I knew my insecurities would eventually get the better of me. “Should Shiloh be around this kind of environment?” I hated that I asked but wanted to know the answer.
Deck, however, didn’t even look ashamed or embarrassed at all by the question. In fact, he looked quite pissed.
Oh, poop!