I walked in to find them sitting at the kitchen table, coffee cups between them. A box of doughnuts sat on the counter.

I didn't know Deke very well. He was probably around thirty years old, although hard to tell for sure. I knew he'd been in the Marines before joining the club, so I figured he understood what Cookie was going through better than most. He was a big guy, powerfully built, and one of his arms had been burned pretty bad. Now scars roped it, although it'd missed his hand. Some guys would keep that covered up.

I'd never seen Deke in a long-sleeved shirt.

"These doughnuts for anyone?" I asked, drifting toward the counter.

"Help yourself," Deke answered. He and Cookie had fallen silent, and I wondered what they'd been talking about.

"Silvie, baby, let's go get you dressed," Cookie said. She smiled at me, the hint of sadness she always wore these days firmly in place. Even her hair seemed different since Bagger's death. The wild, red corkscrew curls were somehow flatter.

She took Silvie's hand and walked her out, leaving me alone with Deke.

"How's s.h.i.t with you?" he asked. I shrugged and smiled.

"Is that you asking or my dad?"

"More me bein' polite than anything," he said, his face unreadable. "You know we're here if you need us, but I got better things to do than babysit. Glad someone's in the house with Cookie, though."

"Yeah, I'm happy to be here," I said. "She's doing me a huge favor. I won't be able to work much once my program gets started, so keeping costs down is pretty important. Win-win for both of us."

My phone buzzed in my pocket, and I pulled it out, offering him a quick look of apology.

"Tell Cookie I said good-bye," he said, standing. I nodded, then looked at my phone.

HUNTER: How you doing?

s.h.i.t. I glanced at Deke, but he wasn't paying attention to me at all. Good, because I was pretty sure my guilty vibes were strong enough for him to sense if he bothered.

ME: Good. I thought we weren't going to do this anymore.

I'd told Hunter to stop contacting me at least once a day since the party at his house. I suppose it made me a horrible person, but each time he got back in touch anyway, I felt the thrill all the way through my body.

HUNTER: Yeah ... about that. I need to see you ME: Skid was right. I wont be part of ruining you HUNTER: Skid doesn't know everything. Its more complicated. Thats my problem to deal with.

ME: No HUNTER: Tonight ME: I'm babysitting Silvie tonight HUNTER: Then call when she's asleep ME: I'll think about it I thought about it, all right. I thought about it all day as I filled in at Cookie's coffee shop. I continued to think about it while I made Silvie dinner (Kraft macaroni, because that s.h.i.t is good) and while we had a bath (because that s.h.i.t is messy). We checked for ghost monkeys and I monster-proofed the bedroom before tucking her in for the night. Then I went out into the living room and turned on the TV, still wondering if I should call Hunter.

Probably not.

Absolutely not.

I called Kit instead.

She didn't answer. Not a huge surprise, considering it was a Friday night. Kit wasn't really a stay-at-home-on-the-weekend kind of girl, and apparently she'd met some new man in one of her cla.s.ses last Tuesday. Kit also wasn't a wait-and-see kind of girl, so I'd be willing to bet she was putting him through his paces right now.

At ten thirty I turned off the TV and changed into a tank and some boxer shorts before slipping into bed. I considered my Kindle. Then I grabbed my phone and texted Hunter.

ME: What's up?

HUNTER: At the house, hanging out. Clutch has a few girls over. Says its important to celebrate life or some such s.h.i.t. Think he just wants to get laid as many times as possible while the pity f.u.c.k thing still works for him ME: Poor guy HUNTER: Heh. How about you?

ME: In bed. Silvie is sleeping and Cookie is at a friends house. She doesnt get out much so I told her she needed a night off HUNTER: Hows she doing?

ME: Good I think. I like it here. Feels good to be treated like an adult HUNTER: I'll treat you like an adult ... Call me?

HUNTER.

I stared down at the phone, wondering if she'd do it. I'd promised myself I'd let her call first. Of course, I'd also promised myself I'd let her text first, and look at how long that'd lasted.

My phone rang.

f.u.c.kin' beautiful.

"Hunter?"

Her voice was soft and questioning, a whisper in the darkness. Holy s.h.i.t, she sounded soft and pretty. Just texting with her was enough to get my d.i.c.k up, but hearing her voice?

Made me so hard it hurt.

"Hey," I said, falling back down on my bed. Outside my door I heard voices and the faint sound of music. Not too loud-the phone wouldn't pick any of it up. Last thing I needed was her hearing whatever bulls.h.i.t might be going on downstairs. "Call me Liam."

"Hi, Liam," she said. d.a.m.n. What was it about this girl?

"f.u.c.k, Em. I missed talking to you. So you're in bed?"

"Yeah," she said, and I felt my b.a.l.l.s tighten. I reached down and pushed on my denim-covered c.o.c.k with the heel of my hand, the pressure sweet and painful all at once. Those pictures of hers did me in every time, but they had nothin' on her voice. Husky and sweet, just for me.

Jesus, I wanted to drive over there and just pound her 'til she screamed. No, scratch that. I wanted her here, with me. In my bed. Riding my c.o.c.k. Shouldn't be so G.o.dd.a.m.ned complicated to make that happen. I'd given almost a decade of my life to the club. Never complained, never held back. I'd done terrible things for the Devil's Jacks. I'd keep doing them, too.

All I wanted in return was one thing. One girl. Of course it had to be the girl who could start a f.u.c.king war with a phone call ...

I still wouldn't give her up.

"This is bulls.h.i.t," I muttered. "Let me see you tomorrow. I'll pick you up, we'll go for a ride. h.e.l.l, it can be like a date or something."

She laughed.

"Do people still date?"

"f.u.c.k if I know," I admitted. "Not my thing."

"So you're a love-'em-and-leave-'em kind of guy?" she asked, her voice teasing.

"Yeah, but I leave my women happy," I replied, rubbing my hand up and down my d.i.c.k again. I imagined her lips wrapped around it and my hips arched a little. It took everything I had not to groan. d.a.m.n. I couldn't think.

"I don't know what to say to that," she replied softly. "I don't know, Liam. I want to ... But is it a good idea?"

I gave a short laugh-she had no clue how bad an idea it was.

"No, probably not," I said. "So why don't you tell me what you're wearing instead? No harm in that."

I heard her breath catch. Would she answer?

"I've got a pink camisole, with pink and gray jammie shorts," she said. "It feels weird talking about this. Should I have said I was wearing something s.e.xy from Victoria's Secret?"

"I can't imagine anything s.e.xier than what you just described," I replied, and I meant every word. I'd jacked off to the pictures of her naked a hundred times-and yeah, I get how creepy that is, and no, I don't give a s.h.i.t-but hearing her talk about her little pink cami was f.u.c.kin' hot. Em wasn't some cover model or anything-nice curves without being super stacked. But those t.i.ts of hers were perfect for me in every way. Now I pictured them, spread out a little as she lay back in her bed, the nipples making little peaks in the soft fabric of her top.

I wanted to suck them into my mouth and roll them around until she screamed. Maybe bite them when I finally came after f.u.c.king her tight c.u.n.t for an hour. I slid the zipper on my jeans down, letting my c.o.c.k pop out. Then I wrapped my hand around it.

"What are you wearing?"

"Jeans, an old T-shirt. Nothin' special."

"You look pretty special in jeans," she whispered. Then she gave an awkward giggle. "That was so cheesy. I can't believe I said that."

"I'll take it," I replied, smiling.

"I'm just not real good at this. I mean, I know we've talked at night, but that was before ... You know."

She didn't want to say it and I sure as s.h.i.t didn't need her remembering what I'd put her through.

"We're not doing anything," I said, slowly rubbing my c.o.c.k up and down. I squeezed it hard, watching as fluid beaded up on the tip. "This is just two friends talking, okay?"

"Okay," she said. "But there's something I need to know first."

"Ask," I told her, hoping to h.e.l.l it was a question I could answer.

"Liam, do you have an old lady tucked away somewhere? I mean, I know I don't have any right to ask, but ..."

That caught me off guard. What the h.e.l.l? This was what I got for giving her s.p.a.ce, I realized. Was someone filling her head with s.h.i.t?

"No. f.u.c.k no-where'd that come from?"

"Well, you say you're not into relationships, but a lot of guys say that when they want to get laid," she replied, sounding nervous. "Then it turns out they're already with someone, just looking for something extra on the side. For all I know you're married with ten kids. You've already lied to me about other stuff, and I know some of the brothers keep more than one woman."

I coughed.

"If I was married with ten kids, I wouldn't be talking on the phone with you. I'd be shooting myself in the f.u.c.king head."

She laughed.

"So the answer is no?"

"The answer is definitely no," I said. "I've slept around-I'm not ashamed of that. And I lied to you for my club. But I don't have to trick girls to get laid."

"So no more surprises?" she asked.

"No, straight up," I answered, hoping she'd believe me. My phone beeped-another call-but I ignored it.

"Where are we going with this?" she asked. "Has anything changed? Or should we just hang up and end it before things get worse?"

I considered carefully before I answered.

"I don't know," I replied, and for once it was the truth. "You want me to be honest, so I'll be honest. I don't know what's between us because it's not like we've had a chance to explore it. You're different than any other woman I've been with. I actually like talking to you about s.h.i.t that's not s.e.x, but I won't pretend that f.u.c.king you isn't what I think about the most. Just your voice makes my d.i.c.k stand on end, so I'll take whatever I can get. If that's just a phone call, don't spoil it for me yet, okay?"

She didn't say anything for a moment.

"I just slid my hand down into my boxers," she whispered, and I swear a pint of blood left my brain. "I'm remembering what it felt like when you sucked my nipples. I want to lick your stomach."

My entire body clenched. My fingers slid up my straining c.o.c.k to find the beads of precome. I palmed my c.o.c.khead, then started jacking myself slow and hard.

Yeah, this was what I needed.

"Find your c.l.i.t," I told her, my voice going low. "Are you wet yet?"

"Yes," she said. "I feel really weird doing this ... Like I'm a wh.o.r.e or something, because the club-"

"You're not a wh.o.r.e. And don't think about the club. I don't want you thinking about anyone else at all when you're touching yourself, got me? Think about me and what I'm going to do to you the first chance I get."

"What's that?"

"I'll start by sliding my fingers deep inside your p.u.s.s.y, get them nice and wet. Then I might play with your c.l.i.t."

I heard her breath catch.

"I'm doing that right now," she said. "What about you?"

"I've got my c.o.c.k out and I'm jerking off while I listen to your voice," I told her bluntly. "My b.a.l.l.s are so f.u.c.king tight they feel like they're in a vise, and I keep imagining how hot and slick you'd be around me right now."

"Oh," she whispered. Her breath caught again. "You're better than my vibrator, you know that?"

The image of her using that vibrator filled my brain and I lost the power to speak. I felt my b.a.l.l.s drawing up, my hand gripping my d.i.c.k so hard it almost hurt.

Almost.

"How are you doing?" I asked, trying to slow myself down.

"Good," she whispered.

"Tell me about it."