Page 42 of Never Wed an Outlaw

“Do you think it'll always be this good?” she asked, staring at me like I'd just handed her the moon.

I smiled. “Darlin', it only fades because people let it get boring. We've had ourselves another first tonight, but I've got about a hundred more in mind before we start getting really fuckin' kinky.”

“Damn. And here I wanted to skip right to the bright pink ponytail buttplugs and nipple clamps!”

Grinning, I rested my forehead on hers, taking another taste of her lips before I said anything. No hiding how my cock twitched inside her when I thought about a couple clamps swinging from those sweet tits.

“Don't tell me you've been reading those dirty books like Meg and Cora. Always catch them reading some shit on their screens about guys hung like mammoths, or how Prince What-the-fuck exposed his dick for the millionth time, when they don't think anybody's looking.”

“Sorry,” she teased, cocking her head. “I like my men hard, tattooed, and alpha to the core. Rugged, dirty talking men with good hearts underneath. It's easy for a girl to settle with book boyfriends when there ain't very many like that around in real life.”

Book boyfriends?I snorted. Was she trying to make steam shoot out my fuckin' ears?

Jealousy shocked my system too easy with her, evenwhen the assholes after her were fictional.

Before, there was only about a ten percent chance I'd lose my hard-on and have to wait before she fed me those words. Now, it was effectively zero.

“Guess it's your lucky day then,” I said, running my fingers through her soft hair, holding her eyes in mine. “You've met your hero.”

“Yeah? Lucky me.” She tried to sound sarcastic, but her eyes betrayed hope.

“Believe it,” I promised, beginning to pump my cock in her again, screwing through the mess we'd made. “Because you've been fuckin' him for about a month, and he's about to give you every inch he's got again.”

She moaned, wrapping her hands around my neck, giving into the best sex of our lives. We barely had a drop of wine that night before we passed out. Exhausted, entangled, and wondering how the hell something so good kept happening.

“Come to the wedding with me,”I told her the next morning, chewing on the breakfast I'd cooked up for us in her fancy kitchen. “It's coming up fast. Just a few more days away now.”

I turned, just in time to see her hesitate, taking a long pull from the coffee. We both took it extra strong to pry our eyes open after the naked gymnastics we'd done well past midnight.

“There a problem?” I asked, knowing damned well therewas when she took too long to answer.

“No...I want to, I mean. It's just that I'm so behind on my work,” she said sadly. “I know this club stuff means a lot to you. Means a lot to Huck, too. We're about to be one big happy family, and I should really try to be more involved. Maybe it would help iron out the tensions in the group if they saw us as a couple.”

“Fuck the tensions. Our family's about to get a whole lot bigger with your niece on the way. Won't be long before Skin puts a baby in Meg's belly, too.”

My Treasurer and me had two things in common. We both went after rich, fiery chicks who oughta be outside our grasp in any sane world. I'd also heard his shit going into Meg's ear when he thought nobody else was around about putting a kid in her sooner, rather than later, possibly as a wedding present.

The old Dust would've winced, wondering what man begged for a pile of responsibility dropping in his lap. Didn't think much like that anymore.

For the first time in my life, thinking about knocking a woman up caused my dick to stand on end, instead of deflate.

“Come on, Hannah,” I said, smiling, throwing more bacon onto her plate. “You can step away from the keyboard for one evening. Don't just do it for me. Do it for the club. They'll love to see you there, and so will I.”

I reached for her hand. She took my fingers, but it wasn't like she wanted to. Gave me a grip like a person holding something back, hiding a secret chewing her up inside.

“I'll think about it, Dusty. Really. I wish I could just say yes.” She rolled her eyes, sighing. “This project...it's endless. I can't wait to be done with it for good.”

“So, say it,” I said, trying not to lose my patience. “Look, I know running your business and tending to that matchmaker app is real serious. I respect how you've clawed your way up and made yourself something.”

Her eyes signaled mine, shy and sad. Holding onto something I wanted to pry out of her, find out what the fuck made her pretend she couldn't go due to 'work.'

Business, I could buy that anytime. But the tension in her face gave away extra, mirrored the look I'd seen on folks a hundred times when they had more than just money at stake.

“What's going on, darlin'? If it's more than just coding, I need to know. Tell me.” It came out like a demand. I realized I was squeezing her hand so hard it might hurt her, so I eased off.

For a second, that little glint in her eye sharpened, like she'd drop everything in an avalanche. Instead, she sat up straighter, slowly spreading her palms on the counter with another heavy sigh.

“It's...really just work. Nothing else. It's stress, Dusty. There are millions on the line.Millions.Obviously, I've got plenty of that to go around in the bank, but I grew up with nothing. Scary numbers for someone like me. Ever heard of imposter syndrome? Some days, I still wake up, afraid this could all come crashing down if I slow down too much, if I take my foot off the pedal for a split second.”

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