Smoke and Steel (Wild West MC #2)(80)

His sentiments exactly. “You got it, sweetheart.”

“You don’t have to give her the family discount. She doesn’t pay rent,” she pointed out.

All he said to that was lifting his brows.

“Whatever,” she muttered, but the smirk on her lips said she liked his response.

“You been in here at least five minutes and you haven’t given me your mouth.”

That was when she rounded the counter and curved her arms around his neck, pulling him down to her.

And there it was.

It had been pretty boring until that point.

But right then, he started having a great Saturday.





A couple of days later, he was on his couch, feet up on the back of it, joint pinched between his fingers, a small fan he’d put away when he was done blowing the smoke out the windows he’d opened because Hellen didn’t like the smell of pot.

She’d just come home and gone back to the bedroom to change out of her work clothes.

But right then, she returned, and she was holding a cardboard-brown box with fancy white writing on the top.

“Haley told me your size,” he said, and squinted at her as he took a toke.

She stood there, holding the brand-new shoes she wanted but wouldn’t let herself have.

She did this for two beats.

Then she dropped them on the chair and came his way.

He set the joint aside quickly, which was good, because she was on him, and he could tell right off the bat she was intent to share some serious gratitude.

He loved her always.

So he loved having sex with her always.

But there was something different, not better, but serious fucking nice about fucking when he was stoned.

Though there wasn’t much fucking, since she sucked him off like she was gonna earn a ribbon for it (she got blue), and she was so turned on by having his dick in her mouth, she came on stroke seven when he finally drilled into her, and he came on stroke eight due to what she did with her mouth.

They were both still dressed, clothing fucked-up, when they were cuddling after, and she said quietly, “You didn’t have to do that.”

She meant the shoes.

“I know.”

He felt her pull in a big breath.

She let it out saying, “I really, really love you.”

He knew that too.

But she wasn’t done.

“And it’s not about the shoes. It’s the attention and the follow through.” A meaningful pause and then, “And it’s the fan.” She curled her hand around the side of his neck and finished, “I hope I give the same to you.”

Fuck.

“You do,” he grunted.

But Christ.

She needed to know. She deserved it. It was crucial she had it.

But he couldn’t give it to her after he gave her a pair of eight-hundred-dollar shoes.

She was happy. She’d just come.

And it might seem like he was trying to buy his way out from under the shit he was going to land on her.

It wasn’t the time.

He’d find the time.

Just not now.

But he’d do it.

Later.





19





YOU DIDN’T LIE





Hellen





I was at the office when she ambushed me.

It was late-ish.

Our receptionist was gone. Xanthia was gone. And I’d noticed in a vague way that Aayansh, one of the corner office guys, had just left for the evening.

I wasn’t totally alone in the office.

Yvette was behind one of her three huge screens, designing swag for one of her clients (and I needed to get with her for a collab—swag design and fulfillment was one of the tiers I was going to add to my menu).

Other than that, it was just me.

I’d gotten a return text from Core after I told him I was heading home in a few minutes.

I’ll get the steaks out, baby.

His text made me smile.

It was all about grilling from room temperature for him.

It was after six, I’d left the house that morning at seven, and he was at home, waiting to cook for me.

And this reminded me I had something to think about. He told me to take my time on a decision, but with what he’d put out there, I didn’t think it was cool to make him wait.

He’d broached the “home” subject in all its fullness last night, as in pointing out I was at his place all the time, so the expense of keeping mine seemed imprudent (though, he didn’t use the word “imprudent,” he used the word “stupid”).

It was nearly November.

We’d been together awhile.

I was ready.

And I wasn’t ready.

We were in love. I was there all the time anyway. We got along great. My family liked him. His brothers dug me.

It was worth a repeat, we were in love.

And seriously, I spent the night at my place alone maybe once every two weeks (if that), and if I was there any other time, Core was with me. Most often, I hit my apartment to switch out clothes or because it was convenient to go there to get ready.

Core was right, keeping it seemed a waste of precious resources.

And I liked his house. It wasn’t only bigger, his neighborhood was quieter, there were two parks close by where we could walk Nanook, and when they built my complex, they hadn’t put much consideration into greenspace.