CHAPTER FOURTEEN
The next morning, I wake up alone.
This shit is beyond old.
What’d she do, leave her own damn apartment to get away from me?
I reach down and snatch my jeans off the floor.
Noises from the other side of the wall lead me into the kitchen where she’s stirring granola into a cup of yogurt.
“Morning,” she says, glancing up. Her gaze lingers on my body as I finish buckling my belt. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“I wanted you to wake me up.” I stare her down until her cheeks turn pink. “In a different way.”
“Oh.” The corner of her mouth turns down. “Are you…Am I…Will I see you again?”
Closing the distance between us, I take her by the hips and pull her into my body. The spoon falls from her fingers, hitting the counter with a clang.
“You’re not done seeing me now,” I say, leaning down to taste her lips.
When I pull away, she blinks up at me. Her mouth’s still open, lips shiny and red from our kiss.
“I didn’t expect to wake up alone.”
She cocks her head. “That bothers you?”
Fuck it. “Yeah.”
I expect her to laugh it off, but she just keeps staring at me.
“I meant what I said last night,” I say, trying to force some sort of reaction out of her.
“What was that?” she asks, turning back to the counter.
“Charlotte, look at me.”
She faces me but seems afraid to meet my eyes. “This wasn’t a one and done. Not for me.”
“But—”
“No.” I cut her off, stepping closer. “I tried to warn you last night.”
“W-warn me?” she stammers. For such a wordy woman, it’s nice to see her struggle to come up with some for a change.
I fit my hands into the curve of her waist and boost her onto the counter, shoving my body between her legs. My hands land above her knees, sliding up her smooth thighs and under her sleep shorts.
“Yeah. I tried to tell ya last night. One time wouldn’t be enough. So get used to it.”
A wrinkle forms between her eyes and I press a kiss to the spot. I know what she’s going to say and I don’t want to hear it right now. My only goal is to is convince her that my dick needs to find its way into her pussy on a regular basis. The rest doesn’t matter.
“Marcel,” she says, placing her palm against my chest. “How does this work?”
I haven’t done a fucking thing in my life to deserve this woman. It doesn’t matter, though, I want her so fucking bad I’m willing to take the risk.
Not too far down the road, the two of us together will cause a chaotic shitstorm of trouble.
And I still don’t want to let her go.
If she feels the same way, I’ll fight like hell for her.
“You like me?” I ask.
She tilts her head and peeks at me through her lashes. “Yeah, I like you.”
I’ve taken on bigger challenges and come out the other side. Maybe a little battle worn but still breathing.
“You want to see me again?”
Her fingers curl into the waistband of my jeans and she tugs me forward. “Yes.”
“You want to fuck me again?”
She drops her gaze. “God, yes.”
I like that answer a lot and place another kiss on her cheek.
I need to explore this. See if she’s worth the chaos.
“You want to do some other things with me?”
Her curious gaze collides with mine. “Like what?”
I lift my shoulders. Not like I have a lot of experience dating. For her, I’ll figure it out. “I don’t know. Let’s find out together.”
Someone bangs on her front door, and I growl in frustration.
“Shit.” Her gaze strays to the living room, but she doesn’t move away from me.
“Is it the floor pounder?” I ask, glancing up at the ceiling.
She snorts. “No, I don’t think so.”
The knocking starts up again, and Charlotte slides off the counter. I’m a dick, so I keep my feet planted where they are, forcing her to press her body against mine. A flash of annoyance crosses her face and I slide my hand into her hair and tug her backward. She gasps in surprise and I kiss her. Long and slow. When I pull away she’s breathing hard.
I step back. “Go on.”
She squints and twists her mouth as if she’s considering telling me off. But her visitor rattles the doorknob this time.
I follow her to the living room and move in front of her to open the door. “What are you doing?” she asks.
“There’s an impatient asshole at your front door. You don’t even have a peephole to see who the fuck it is.”
I twist the knob and a tall, dark-haired woman on the other side recoils in surprise.
“Where’s Charlotte?” she asks as she rakes her gaze over me.
“Mercy!” Charlotte bumps me out of the way and flings the door open wider. “I’m so sorry. We were supposed to meet for brunch weren’t we?”
“Uh, yeah. I waited for like half an hour.” The girl sweeps into the living room and throws her arms around Charlotte. “But I see you’re busy.” She lifts an eyebrow, waiting for Charlotte to introduce us.
Charlotte steps back waves her hands between us. “Marcel, this is my bestie, Mercy Concord. Mercy, this is my, uh, friend, Marcel.”
Friend. Not sure how I feel about that. Boyfriend, best-sex-she’s-ever-had, her old man. Would have preferred any of those to friend.
I hold out my hand and Mercy takes it, slowly allowing her gaze to roam over me again. “Friend. Hmm. Overnight guest type of friend, I take it?”
“Shut up,” Charlotte mutters.
Now’s probably a good time to find my shirt and put it on.
“Excuse me, ladies. Nice to meet you, Mercy.”
“Oh, you too.”
I’m not even out of the room before her friend bursts into giggles and Charlotte shushes her.
Amused, I glance back and find them both watching me. I wink and flash a cocky smile that makes Mercy crack up again.
My phone’s on the bedroom floor. I pick it up and check my texts, finding about a hundred from Murphy.
Where are you?
We left after midnight. Tell you about it later.
Where the fuck are you?
Answer your phone, dick.
Your sister’s worried about you. I’m going to kick your ass.
Church at one.
I also find one from Wrath. He’s much more direct.
Big day. Get your ass to the clubhouse.
I send a quick text back to Murphy: On my way.
He responds with: Finally, asshole.
I send another text to Wrath, then shove the phone in my pocket. I slip into my shirt and throw my cut on over it.
Charlotte’s standing in the doorway, twisting her hands in front of her and biting her lip. “I’m so sorry.”
I give her a reassuring smile. “It’s cool. I need to get to the clubhouse anyway.”
“Oh.”
I prowl over and grab her by the hips, pulling her against me. “That bother you?”
“No. I understand.”
“I meant what I said before.” I jerk my head toward the living room. “Besides, it looks like you have plans today.”
She rolls her eyes. “I usually don’t forget plans with my best friend.”
“You trying to blame me?”
A hesitant smile flickers over her lips. “Sort of. She’s going to grill me about you all afternoon.”
Well, that just makes me want to give her something to talk about and something to remember me by. Wrapping my arms around her, I lift her and pin her against the wall. She throws her arms around my neck, laughter spilling from her lips. “What are you doing?”
“Giving you a good story for your friend.”
“I already have a lot.”
“Yeah, but those are X-rated.” I close the distance, pressing my lips against hers. She sighs and wraps her legs around my hips holding on tight. After a few seconds, I release her and she leans against me.
“I need to see you again,” I say, deciding it’s better to put it all out there. “Soon.”
“Am I being needy if I say you can come over tonight?”
“Nope.”
Shit, I’m pretty sure we have a drop tonight and Rock’s going to insist I’m there. “I might be real late, though. That okay?”
“Yeah, that’s okay.”
Mercy’s eyes widen as Marcel strides out of my bedroom, then linger on his Lost Kings MC cut.
I sense the inquisition forming in her brain from here.
“Good meeting you, Mercy,” he says.
Shifting his gaze to me, he crooks his finger. I meet him at the door where he doesn’t waste time pulling me to him for a quick kiss. He tucks my hair behind my ear, then his lips are there, whispering, “Thank you for last night. I’ll see you later.”
Everything inside me melts and my knees wobble.
He holds onto me for another second as if he doesn’t want to leave, then shoulders his way through the door.
“Sweet baby Jesus, I think my panties burst into flames from watching you two,” Mercy says from behind me.
Rolling my eyes toward the ceiling, I turn and face her. “I need coffee if you’re going to start firing off questions,” I announce, marching toward the kitchen with her right behind me.
“Oh, so many, many questions.” She sounds positively giddy. “Starting with, I thought you didn’t date bikers.”
“We’re not…It’s complicated.”
She tilts her head and fixes her don’t-bullshit-me stare on me. “Will your uncle be mad?”
“That’s why it’s complicated.” I use my best “duh” voice. While Mercy and I have known each other since grade school, we drifted apart in college and law school. She has some knowledge about my biker family, but not much. Since her family is full of stuffy politicians, the biker thing has always intrigued her.
“He’s hot.”
I busy myself with making coffee. Except, I can’t stop thinking about Marcel. About seeing him later. I’ve never suffered such an acute sense of loss when a guy left. Maybe it’s because of the abrupt way he had to leave.
Sure, that’s it.
Mercy accepts the coffee I hand her and knowing where everything is in my kitchen, helps herself to cream and sugar.
“What are you up to?” I ask, hoping to take the attention off me.
Knowing full well what I’m up to, she gives me a sly smile. “Dad asked me to head up his reelection campaign. He thinks I can secure the firefighter vote by flashing some leg.”
I’ve always thought Mercy’s dad was a bit of a sleaze, and considering my family ties, that’s saying something.
“Are you going to do it?”
“Sure. Then next cycle, I’ll go work for his opponent.”
“I don’t think it works that way.”
She chuckles and finishes her coffee. “Come on. I appreciate the coffee, but I’m starving. We’ll never get into Gray Gates this late, so let’s run over to Ironworks and go to Nibbles. We have to hurry though or they’ll run out of French toast donuts.”
My mouth starts watering at the thought of a breakfast pocket from there. “Only if you promise to share an egg and cheese pocket with me.”
“Sure. You can tell me all about hottie-biker.”
I roll my eyes and follow her out the door.
Thirty minutes later, we’re stuffing our faces with what can only be described as heaven in fried-dough form. Warm, sweet and salty donut with a scrambled egg, bacon, and cheddar filling.
The two tables inside the tiny kitchen/restaurant were taken, so we’re sitting outside on a bench, balancing our goodies on our laps while we eat and gossip.
“I’m not even kidding. He delivers the orgasms on pure oral skills alone,” I say in a lowered voice.
Mercy huffs and throws a piece of donut at me. “Liar.”
I pluck the dough off my sleeve and pop it in my mouth. “Nope. And he’s just as talented with his giant cock.” I’m being overly ridiculous. Mercy and I go way back. She knows I usually don’t get so graphic.
She slips her hand over her mouth, laughing into her palm. “I’m so damn jealous because I know you’re telling the truth. You’re not usually so detailed,” she says, echoing my thoughts.
We both laugh.
“So what’s the catch?” she asks. “If he knows how to fuck, then he’s probably broke or emotionally stunted. Something.”
Before answering, I glance around the small space. A mother with a toddler glares at us from across the way. “I haven’t figured that out yet.”
“Well, there’s the club thing. And your uncle. How much say does he have in your life?”
“None.” I sigh. “He still helps my mother out. But that’s more out of obligation to my dad. I don’t think he’d cut her off to spite me.”
“Then fuck whatever he thinks. You’re a grown ass woman. You want to date some hottie-biker-stud with an amazing tongue, then you should do so.”
“Thanks.”
We spend the afternoon meandering through the farmer’s market that takes up at least three streets of downtown Ironworks every Saturday.
As I’m picking through heirloom tomatoes and wondering what Marcel likes to eat, my phone buzzes. A check of the screen shows it’s my brother.
“What’s up, bro?”
“What’s up is I’m worried about you. You didn’t answer any of my texts. I stopped by your place and you’re not there. I was worried that joker killed you and left you on the side of the highway.”
Shit. The last thing I wanted to do was make him worry. “I’m fine. I’m at the farmer’s market with Mercy.”
He’s silent.
“I’ll make it up to you. Come over for dinner.”
“None of that farmer’s market frou-frou crap, though. Good old-fashioned greasy pizza.”
“Deal.”
We agree on a time and hang up.
“Aw, was little brother worried about you?”
“Yeah, he wasn’t thrilled I took Marcel home with me from the party.”
“You picked up a guy while you were with your brother? How traumatizing.” She snickers and I smack her arm. “Poor kid.”
“You mind heading back?”
“Nope. I’m supposed to have a strategy session with my dad tonight.”
“Lucky you. Is making you work on Saturday nights his way of keeping you single forever?”
“No. I think he’s trying to set me up with the deputy mayor.”
“Gross.”
“Right? He’s as old as my dad.”
Carter’s already sitting on my front steps when Mercy double-parks in front of my apartment. She reaches over and gives me a quick hug. “Tell him I said hi. I want to get out of here before a CDTA bus rams into me from behind.”
“Sounds kinky.”
“Get out of here.” She playfully pushes me out the door.
Carter walks down the steps to meet me and waves as Mercy drives away. “Get over here,” he says, pulling me up into a hug. “You made me worry.”
I hug him back just as tight. “I’m fine.”
“Well, at least you were out with Mercy and didn’t run away to Vegas or somewhere with the outlaw.”
“You think I’d get married and not invite you?”
“Christ, you’re not protesting the marrying the outlaw part? That’s just great,” he mutters as he follows me up the front steps.
Shit, that never occurred to me.
“I’m not marrying anyone,” I assure him.
“Good.” He shuts the door behind us and drops down onto my couch, covering his face with his hands. “Mom was on my case all night about where you were and how you behaved, blah, blah, blah. I told her I dropped you off early.”
“I’m surprised she cares so much.”
“Ten bucks says Uncle Chuck called and asked her.”
My nose wrinkles at the thought of my uncle in my business. Did he somehow see me leave with Marcel? Did someone see us together in the parking lot and report back to him?
“How’s Mercy?” Carter asks.
“Good. We had fun. We went to Nibbles—”
“Damn. You two went there without me?”
“Sorry. Next weekend.”
“Right. You’ll probably be too busy with what’s-his-face.”
There’s no way I want to admit to my brother that I hope his prediction is right. “I doubt that.”
“So are you seeing him again?”
“I think so. I like him.” I’m not explaining that Marcel said he’d be over later. One, Carter might run screaming from my apartment. Two, what if Marcel changes his mind and doesn’t show up?
“Really, Charlotte?”
Someone knocks on my door, saving me from answering my brother.