Undeniable (Undeniable, #1)(56)

Deuce’s home was incredible. An honest-to-God log cabin dream home. The inside had been decorated rustic chic. When you first walked in, you were greeted with a two-story foyer complete with a handmade wooden chandelier. The entire first floor was an open plan. The only divider was the sprawling staircase that led to the second-floor balcony.

To the left of the foyer was a living area separated from the family area only by furniture. The furniture was top-of-the-line, not at all lived-in, and reminded me of Chase. The family area was more my thing—beat-up wide-seated couches, a thick, furry throw rug, an enormous flat screen, and every video game console a teenage boy could dream of. Photos of Deuce and his boys, of his kids, of his different motorcycles over the years covered the width of two walls. To the right of the foyer was an enormous kitchen and dining area. The kitchen was nearly identical to the one at his clubhouse. Black-and-chrome appliances and black-and-white marble counters. The dining set was exquisite, with solid, cherry-stained oak and high-back ladder chairs fitted with forest green cushions.

Up the sprawling staircase and across from the balcony were five bedrooms and three bathrooms, not including the master bedroom, which had an all-inclusive bathroom with a Jacuzzi for a bathtub and a shower big enough to fit a family of ten, complete with benches and multiple showerheads. Deuce’s bedroom was just as ridiculous. Although sparsely decorated, what was there was not at all how I pictured Deuce’s bedroom. A long dresser with a large vanity mirror and a matching stool lined one wall. A Tiffany lamp hung off to the side. On the opposite wall were two vertically tall dressers. The bed was a four-poster California king with black silk bedding and too many pillows to count. And there were mirrors everywhere, even on the ceiling.

I stared at Deuce, who shrugged and muttered, “Christine.”

Cage’s bedroom was typical of a teenage boy. Dark sheets and dark curtains. Posters of motorcycles and naked women posing with motorcycles and stolen street signs lined the walls. The floor was carpeted with clothing and sneakers, his bed was a mess, and dirty dishes were piled high on his dresser.

Danny’s was of the utmost girly-girl variety. Everything was either pink or purple, or pink and purple and fuzzy. The second I stepped inside, I felt like I’d walked into Candy Land and instantly retreated to safety.

When my tour was complete, Deuce brought me back to his bedroom, pointed me toward the dresser with the vanity, and ordered me to unpack. I scowled at him. “I’m not staying,” I told him. “Therefore, I am not unpacking.”

“Fuckin’ hell,” he muttered. Grabbing my arm, he dragged me into the adjoining bathroom and started the shower. Then he stripped.

When he was standing butt naked in front of me, I stared at the tattoo of his wife, a half sleeve of her face. I had seen it before, but had never given it much thought. Until now. Until I was here in her home with her husband and her two children.

“Don’t f*ckin’ go there, Eva,” he growled. I narrowed my eyes. How did he always know what I was thinking?

Muttering something about crazy women, Deuce crossed the bathroom and pushed me up against the ceramic-tiled wall. He yanked my T-shirt over my head and tossed it in the garbage can. Had his wife picked out the garbage can? Was her toothbrush in here somewhere?

I was momentarily distracted from my musings when I felt Deuce’s hands on me. Deuce’s mouth on me.

“There it is,” he murmured around a mouthful of nipple. “There you f*ckin’ are, Eva. Gotta keep f*ckin’ you to remind you where you belong. I got no problem with it.”

Deuce carried me into the shower, his hands gripping my backside, and his mouth feasting on my neck.

“Fuck,” he kept muttering over and over again like a mantra. “So f*ckin’ sweet,” he murmured, nuzzling against my neck. “Fuckin’ beautiful and sweet and crazy…and f*ckin’ mine.”

I swallowed hard.

Fuckin’ mine.

God, the things this man did to me, the things he made me feel.

“That baby, Eva, it’s mine. You feel me?”

My breath caught. “I feel you,” I whispered.

His hand dipped down between us, and he slipped first one, then two fingers inside of me. Gripping his shoulders, I let my mind go blank and gave myself over and into the care of Deuce and his magic fingers. It wasn’t hard to do.

“You feel me now, darlin’?” he growled.

I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. But yeah, I felt him. Everywhere.

? ? ?

“You plan on patching shit up with your old man?”

Deuce was in his bathroom brushing his teeth, watching a towel-clad Eva sitting on his bed, biting her nails, looking like she was going to bolt at any second. He’d set the house alarm for this reason. She didn’t know the code, so if she tried to open the door or even a f*cking window, he’d know. And he’d haul her ass back to bed.

“You’re always calling my daddy an old man,” she called out. “But you’re almost as old as him.”

She thought he was old? He spit a mouthful of toothpaste into the sink.

“What are you trying to say, darlin’?”

She shrugged. “Just wondering when you’re going to start needing Viagra, too.”

He froze.

What?

What the f*ck?

Throwing his toothbrush across the room, he stalked out of the bathroom and headed straight for her. He placed a hand on either side of her and leaned down, forcing her to lie on her back.