Page 20 of Come Ride With Me
When she didn’t immediately reply to his remark, he picked up yet another remote, this one that had been tucked into an opening on the arm of the chair and he turned on the television. For endless moments they watched the local news. Then, during the third commercial break the sound of a buzzer pierced the air.
“Dinnertime,” he said with a wiggle of his brows. “TV trays are over in that corner. If you can get them set up, I’ll go get our food.”
Mica walked to that corner and grabbed the trays he indicated. It seemed like a very domestic action but she pushed that thought aside.
“Oh, that smells wonderful. How did you do all this so quickly?” she asked when she’d sat down and Nash returned holding two plates, thin streams of steam drifting up from each.
“I order family sized entrees from Lola’s twice a week. Keeps me from having to cook and from eating frozen meals and take-out all the time,” he answered.
With her plate in front of her on the TV tray, Mica barely noticed that Nash had left once again. This time when he returned, he had two glasses of pink lemonade in hand.
After he gave her a glass, Nash sat. They both blessed their food and began eating. “This is the best lasagna,” she said after her first bite.
“I know, that’s why I order it at least twice a month,” was his reply.
“So, you like meatloaf and Italian food,” Mica said. “That’s good to know.”
There was a moment or so of silence before Nash replied, “I’d like to get my hands on you again too. Is that something you find good to know?”
Chapter 7
Nash
Fuck this food!
That was Nash’s thought right after Mica whispered, “It’s something I’ve been thinking about constantly.”
Before he could contemplate whether he’d heard her correctly, he pushed back the tray in front of him and stood. The five or so steps that separated him from where she was sitting on his couch were quickly covered and he towered over her. Every part of him was rigid with arousal he’d been sitting in that recliner trying desperately to reign in.
“Tell me what you’ve been thinking,” he said, making one last ditch effort to calm himself.
Mica wasn’t like the women he was used to being with. Before he’d gotten locked up, discretion hadn’t been in his vocabulary. Nash had fucked whichever one of the women who were willing to do whatever it took to get the attention of one of the bikers—also known as CA’s or club ass—that had been lucky enough to be in the bar or at the compound when his dick got hard. The list of available ass grew much smaller once he was in jail because Chief didn’t play that shit. The old head who’d served as lead enforcer for over twenty years in the club only dealt with a specific clientele of women who knew exactly what was up when they stepped into that private room on the lower level of the jail and bent over that steel table to be taken. And Nash had been cool with that. He’d also learned a lot about life from Chief and brought that same discernment toward any woman he considered taking to bed once he was out.
None of the women he’d deemed worthy enough to get his dick had been brought to his home though. It was always a hotel and usually one that was outside of town. He didn’t need or want anyone in Destine in his business, nor did he need any of the women he’d chosen getting ideas about rolling up on him unannounced. He made the boundaries clear from day one and rarely slept with anyone more than three times, to avoid the possibility of the lines getting blurred as he knew they often did where women were concerned.
But Mica was different, with her compact little body and those imploring eyes that on first glance might seem innocent. He’d seen beyond that when he’d given in to the urge the first time and kissed her. He’d seen and felt the passion brewing inside of her, just waiting to be set free. She was shorter than him, especially when she’d come into work last Saturday morning, wearing those Army green cargo pants and white Chuck’s. Her ass had looked so plump in those damn pants, tonight he had to grit his teeth to keep from begging her to stand up so he could see it again, in real time.
What the hell had he been thinking bringing her here? To his home? When for the last two weeks all his most salacious thoughts of her had occurred while he’d been in the privacy of his own space. Hell, just last night he’d jerked off to the memory of her wearing that fuckin’ tight ass sweater dress and chunky-heeled boots to work yesterday. He’d been trying to keep a distance between what he wanted to do to her and how heneededto act around her. They weren’t on the same page, not in the same league. She was here to do a job and he was working on a dream. Nowhere in his plans was a woman who could disrupt his flow the moment she entered a room.
The sound of her clearing her throat snapped him out of his thoughts.
And now she was here. Staring up at him with those damn eyes that seemed to reach right inside him to grip his heart.
“Do you really want to know what I’ve thought about?” she asked just before pulling that plump bottom lip between her teeth.
Fuck it! He didn’t even attempt to hide the groan and hoped like hell she noticed his dick trying to break through the zipper of his jeans.
“Tell me,” he said, his voice hoarse, hands clenching at his sides. He wanted to grab her up and carry her into his bedroom. To toss her onto his bed and…
“I want you to fuck me,” she said and his mouth went dry. “I know I come off as being reserved and perhaps a little on the quiet side. But I’ve never been one to shy away from what I want.”
He swallowed. Hard. And released his clenched fingers. But he still didn’t speak, couldn’t. There was another war going on in his mind right now. The part of him that wanted her naked and beneath him ASAP and the part that knew even if he was going to give her what she wanted—and he for damn sure was going to do that, possibly all fuckin’ night long—then he had to get some things straight first.
With careful movements because he really wanted to toss that TV tray that was sitting in front of her across the damn room, he lifted it and moved to set it on the other side of the couch. When he returned, Mica was still sitting there, hands resting in her lap as if she were waiting for his next instruction. He eased himself down until he was in a squatting position directly in front of her. “And you want me?” he asked, holding her gaze.
“Yes,” she said, her voice soft, but stern.
“Just for sex,” he said even though the words sounded wrong.
