Steel My Heart (Motorcycle Club Romance) (Sons of Steel Motorcycle Club Book 1) (21 page)

Emmy

We were so long in the shower that the hot water ran out.  I emerged shivering, but not with cold.

"You liked that, hmm?" His seductive voice in my ear sent yet another thrill down my spine, re-awakening my already overstimulated nerve endings.  When I shivered, he caught me close, pressing himself into the cleft of my buttocks.

"You're gonna kill me," I moaned. I wondered just how many orgasms I could have in the span of a morning.

"Well I don't want that."  And with a brisk movement, he had me wrapped sweetly in a towel and kissed my forehead.  When I looked up at him bewildered, he laughed.  "Can't you smell that?  It's breakfast time.  I need to replace some calories."

As soon as he said it, the rich, heady scent of scrambled eggs hit my nose.  And even better than that, "Is that?  Coffee?"

I sniffed eagerly and made a dive for my backpack, pulling out the last clean T-shirt I had packed.  My jeans were on their last legs, but I decided I could get one more day out of them before they were able to stand up and walk on their own.

We joined the bleary eyed jostle on the way to the kitchen. Everyone had been living at the clubhouse since the fight with the Storm Riders, and that included Mallory, Teach's old lady.  She was bustling around the slapdash kitchen, a whirl of tiny, contained energy.   When I saw her surreptitiously wipe her brow, I felt a rush of sympathy. "Mal, can I help?"

She turned nimbly, deftly beating more eggs in a plastic bowl.  "Morning Emmy.  Butter the toast when it dings, will you?"

I grinned at J., who was watching me with an amused smile on his face, and went to the refrigerator.  It was stuffed full of Yuengling bottles, but after a moment's panic, I located the butter on the door.  Feeling unduly proud for having found it, I rattled through the drawers in search of a knife.  The toaster dinged just as I located a serviceable one under a pile of parts catalogs and an old wrench.

"You makin' eggs Mal?" Crash called from across the garage, his loud, boisterous voice echoing off the ceiling.  "I can smell your eggs!"

"That boy makes even the most innocent comment sound filthy," she announced to no one in particular.  Her head was bent to her eggs, patiently pushing them around the huge frying pan. I laughed. She looked up and then nodded, a warm smile spreading her smooth caramel cheeks.

"Look at you," J. cupped his hands around my ass and peered over my shoulder as I formed my little toast assembly line.

I bopped him lightly on the nose.  "I'm making toast.  This is important work, and you're hampering my progress."

He chuckled and pulled back.  "Fine, I'm getting coffee," he yawned.

"Coffee's almost done, J." Mallory called as she spooned eggs onto eight plates.  It made my heart feel oddly full to see that she was making a plate for me. "Have a seat." She moved around the table to the place next to Teach, who squeezed her butt fondly as she sat down. 

J. was still blinking at the coffee maker.  I didn't want to sit down without him. 

My hesitation must have been obvious. "Why you holding up the wall, Em?" Case called.

"Um," I looked at the whole club, crammed around the folding table.  Teach and Mal both had the dignity of folding chairs.  The rest of us had to cram shoulder to shoulder on the long benches left over from a long defunct picnic table.  "No room."

"Well fuck, why didn't you say something?  Shove over, asshole."  He pushed Crash, who was bent nearly double over his eggs, shoveling them into his face so rapidly his hand was a blur.

"Fuck," Crash complained, but grumblingly slid over on the bench.

J. approached with his coffee cradled in his hands.  "We need a bigger table," he observed.

"It ain't usually all of us here eatin' at once," Doctor D. mused.  "That's the problem."

"It's fine, I can stand," J. agreed, leaning his long frame against the counter.  My heart sank.  I wanted him next to me.  But Case and Crash had already cleared me room, it would be rude not to sit. So I wedged myself in between them, self-conscious about my arms rubbing against them. I squeezed my thighs together, willing my hips to shrink. 

"Well I don't mind this at all," Case said with a wicked grin. 

I didn't have room to smack him, so I had to content myself with shoving him.

"Didn't mind that either," he announced.

"Watch it," J. called warningly.

Case smiled innocently, a boy caught with his hand in the cookie jar.  "I was only making an observation.  I meant nothing by it, my good sir."

"Don't you sir me."

"Right, only proper gentleman should be addressed as sir."

"Where'd you learn that, at your proper English boarding school?" 

Case laughed so hard I was afraid he might choke.  The sight of him doubled over red-faced set Crash off, who laughed with his mouth open wide, little bits of egg falling out.  Doctor D. let out a short guffaw, Teach smiled and Mac shuffled a little in his seat.  I assumed that meant he was pleased.

I recognized the laughter.  It was the kind of wild abandon that could only hit you when things seemed most dire.  The release of unbearable tension.  I felt my own shoulders start to shake, and soon I was giggling like a schoolgirl as the three younger bikers pelted each other with bits of my carefully buttered toast.

"Proper English boarding school," Case repeated, wiping a tear from his eye and dissolving into snorting laughter again.  He ignored the piece of toast that landed in his beard.  "Fuck."

"Am I to assume you did
not
attend a proper English boarding school?"  I asked innocently.

"Pfft."

"And here you had me all fooled with your manners."

His face crumpled into helpless laughter again.  "My fucking sides hurt, you assholes.  Stop making me laugh."

The twinge of sympathy sobered me slightly and I ducked to finish my eggs before they ended up as food fight fodder. 

I felt hands on me and instantly knew them as J.'s "How'd you get over here?" I asked, lifting my head backwards for a kiss. 

He smiled crookedly.  "You get really focused when you eat."  His kiss squelched the blush that wanted to consume me.  "Never even grabbed your coffee.  Want me to get it?"

I nodded, touched at his thoughtfulness.  "Thank you," I breathed. 

As he moved away, he trailed his hands down my back as if reluctant to go.  He looked back over his shoulder as he stood at the counter waiting for the pot to brew.  I couldn't take my eyes off of him.  He was the only thing I could see.  And when the emerald fire flashed in his eyes, I knew that he only saw me.

J.

J. opened the ancient leather toolkit and poked his tongue into the corner of his cheek.  The wrenches arrayed in front of him made no sense for a moment.  He knew why.

Emmy's scent floated over to him from where she sat perched on a workbench.  She was leafing through part catalogs, looking thoughtful and pensive.  Her pale blond hair tumbled around her shoulders, already puffing into waves from the humidity.  He liked it that way.  It made it easier to grab hold of when he ran his fingers through.  He imagined the strands snarled tightly in his fists as he moved above her, her eyes opened wide while she cried out his name.

Damn, he was getting hard just thinking of it.

He looked back down at his tools.  There was a lot of work to catch up on.  The week he had spent with her in the hotel had set him back at least three weeks in orders.  Case had considerately done the routine maintenance stuff, but only Teach and J. could handle the detailed work that was the bread and butter of the shop. 

And Teach was slowing down these days.
J. didn't want to think that thought.  It felt like a betrayal, but it was true.  His mentor wasn't able to handle the workload he once could.  J. knew it was up to him to pick up the slack.

If he could only tear his mind from Emmy long enough to remember what size socket he needed.

"You have been staring at that wrench set for ten solid minutes," Case said.  "I've been timing it."

J. was startled to see the big man over his shoulder.  "You scared me.  What're you, some sort of ninja now?"

Case struck a Bruce Lee pose, then grimaced.  "Goddamnit."

"Ouch."  J. couldn't stop the crash of guilt over the pain his best friend was enduring.  It nagged at his pride that Case was hurt defending him.

"It'll be fine."  Case brushed it off.  "Besides, I'm pretty sure I broke his nose for it."

"Good."  J. didn't know what else to say.  The awkward moment was new to him.  In the year he had been with the Sons of Steel, he had never once run out of things to say to Case.  "Um...."

"Well said," Case answered, dryly.

"Fuck you."

"How would you even have the energy?" he grinned and shot a pointed look over to where Emmy was sitting.  Her eyebrows were furrowed in concentration, her eyes darting rapidly over the descriptions of aftermarket parts.  "You two haven't stopped since we sprang you from jail."

The memory of being arrested for "kidnapping" Emmy still hurt too much to revisit.  He pushed it down into the vault where he kept all the other bad memories.  "Can't help it with her," he said instead.

"I like her," Case nodded.  "Sweet.  Great tits too."

"She's sweet but she knocked her ex on his ass.  Her knuckles are all bruised and swollen." J couldn't keep the note of pride out of his voice and Case noticed.

"That's a pretty good combination.  And when you add those tits into the mix...."

"Stop talking about my girl's tits.  I can't punch you until your ribs heal."

Case laughed, then grabbed his side again.  "Dammit!  I need to just not talk to anyone today."

"Oh, could you please?" J. begged sarcastically.

"Asshole." Case wandered towards the front office, shaking his head.

J. looked down at his tools again.  He really needed to get this order started.  He was going to.  Right now.
Instead he went to Emmy.  Her smell beckoned him.  He remembered watching the old cartoons on the wood paneled TV set in his mom's living room.  Where a smell would grab the cat by its nose and float him over to the apple pie cooling in the window.  He was doing the same damn thing.

"What are you laughing about?"  Emmy asked him.

J. shook his head, unsure how to explain her effect on him.  "At you reading parts catalogues. "

She grinned and set the thick book down.  Wiggling down to sit at the edge of the workbench, she wrapped her legs around him and slid her hands into his back pockets.  He was hard for her instantly.

"I'm trying to love what you love," she explained. 

"I love
you
," he rasped.  He grabbed her by the ass, lifting her from the workbench.  She wrapped herself tightly around him and kissed his neck as he carried her back to the bunkhouse.  

She was already wet and ready when he spread her legs, but he knew he should hold back and go slower.  There was no denying his desire though.  Her eyes flew wide open as he pushed himself inside of her in one hard thrust.  The gasp that tore from her throat inflamed him even further.  He took her quickly and roughly, his need drowning out any pretense of gentleness, but she matched his intensity with that of her own, biting and clawing at his neck and back.  She arched her back to meet each of his thrusts halfway, their bodies slamming into each other with a wet smack.  When he felt her clench and twitch underneath him, he let himself go with a roar and they both crashed over the edge together. 

They lay there panting for a moment.  "I think I may need a nap," she whispered, gasping.

He pulled the sheet up over her, allowing himself a quick squeeze of her generous breasts before covering her completely.  "Go ahead," he murmured, inhaling the scent of her hair. "I need you rested and ready for next time."

"You're gonna kill me," she said again with a sleepy smile.

He kissed her forehead and slid off the cot to yank his jeans back up over his narrow hips.  It was her perfect balance of sweetness and sexiness that compelled him so completely.  He had never felt like this before.

When he emerged from the bunkhouse, Crash was leaning casually against the plywood wall.  He held his hand up for a silent high-five.  After an inward argument, J. returned it.  He was in love.  It was a victory.  Why not celebrate it?

Emmy

I didn't mean to fall asleep, but J. had me exhausted.  When I woke up in the bunkhouse with the sheets all tangled about me, I had couldn't help but slide my hands back down to where he had just been.  The warm rush that greeted me set my heart racing again.

I wandered back out of the bunkhouse and leaned up against the doorway.  He was working, kneeling next to an expensive looking motorcycle with a spread of tools in front of him.  When I looked around the clubhouse, I realized everyone was hard at work on one project or another.  Case was stacking boxes in spite of his ribs.  Crash was marking sheets of inventory, his lips moving in silent concentration.  I think it was Mac's legs that poked out from under the club's supply van because I couldn't imagine Doctor D. being able to wedge his gut under there.  I was proven right when I heard his voice float out from the office. 

I couldn't hear what he said, but I heard Teach's voice rumble a reply.  Whatever it was sounded serious.  Probably something about the Storm Riders.  I knew Teach was working peace negotiations, and from the sound of his conversation, things weren't going well. 

A noise from the kitchen sent me to Mallory's side.  "Do you need help with anything, Mal?"  I asked, eager to reclaim that useful feeling I had had when I helped with breakfast.

"Nope, Emmy, but thank you."  She rinsed the last mug and set it in the dish drain.  "I just finished."

"I can wipe down the counters," I offered.

She pursed her lips.  "I like things a certain way.  I know they won't stay that way with this bunch of savages, but I at least like to try."

I stepped back.  "Okay, well, let me know if you think of anything."

She nodded, already scrubbing a stain with single-minded focus.

I wandered back into the garage, unnoticed, and found myself a stack of boxes to sit on.  Picking at my fingernails, I tried to think of something I could do to be useful.  It was an odd, restless thought.  Too similar to how I used to feel during the long, drawn-out days spent rattling around in the penthouse waiting for Robert to come home. 

I slid down from my perch to get away from that memory.  As I did, the top box came with me, falling to the concrete floor with a loud thump.

"Shit."

J. was at my side in an instant.  "You okay?"

"I'm fine," I muttered ruefully, "but I don't think whatever's in there is."

He opened the top flap and peered inside, then laughed.  Reaching in, he pulled out a plain black motorcycle helmet.  "If this can't handle falling on the floor, then we got a real problem."

"Why do you have a box of helmets?  You don't even wear one."

"Custom work.  We paint 'em the same colors as we use on the bike.  Make you all matchy-matchy."

I nodded in understanding as I looked into the box with relief.  "You should use one, you know," I admonished J.  "Isn't it the law?"

He made a small snorting noise.  "Not in Pennsylvania.  One of the good things about living here."

"Well, how about so you don't die?"

"I'm not gonna die.  I can handle my bike."

"It's not you I'm worried about," I said, wrapping my hands around his waist.  "It's other people."

He kissed my head without saying anything and held me close for a minute.  When he moved to return to his work, I couldn't help but clutch at him a little.

"Hey, I said I wasn't gonna die," he said, looking down at my fists grabbing his T-shirt.

I looked at them too.  "Sorry," I said, letting him go.

A little ripple of disquiet went across his face.  "What is it, Em?"

I sighed and looked around.  "Nothing.  Just feeling restless, I guess.  You all have important work to do.  And I don't really have anything."

His mouth worked.  "Gimme a minute, I can finish up."

I threw up my hands.  "No, no, I didn't mean to make you feel guilty.  Go do your work."

"Nah, it ain't important," he declared, striding over to his tools.  With a practiced flick of his wrist, he had the leather kit wrapped back up and tied neatly together.  "Come on," he beckoned me.

We stepped out into the blinding sunshine to where his bike was parked.  "Where're we going?"  I wondered.

"Let's get out of here a while," he smiled.  And handed me a helmet.  "No dying," he teased.

I pulled it down on my head smiling.  He kicked the motor to life and we roared out of the parking lot, leaving my bad memories behind.