He pauses a beat. Then he leans down.
His lips brush mine.
“And dammit, I want more firsts with you,” he rumbles.
Then he reaches for me, his eyes shimmering like the only stars in my sky.
And just like that, my heart starts to crash against my ribcage. I’ve been fighting against believing there could ever be anything more serious between Rourke and me than just a fleeting affair. I’ve tried not to indulge a fantasy I knew was crazy. I couldn’t imagine what the hell a guy like him would want with someone like me.
Because of that, I’ve tried hard not to let Rourke think I had any expectations. Not to let myself have any.
But now, here he is.
Saying the words I never dared even hope to hear.
“I know we’re from different worlds.” He puts one arm around me. His other hand comes up to my face, his thumb tracing the line of my jaw more gently than you’d ever expect from such a mountain of a man. “Maybe what I have to offer ain’t for you. My world can be dangerous. I know it’s not what you’re used to. But I promise you one thing, Laney. I will never let the bad parts of that world touch you.” His eyes grow dark as coal, fierce and determined. “I’ll keep you safe. I guarantee you I will always keep you safe.”
As he tilts my face up to his, I think back to the first time I saw Rourke Powers. What I thought about him then.
Huge. Scary. Dangerous. Potentially violent.
How different that is from what I know about him now.
Fiercely loyal. Surprisingly kind.
Sexy as hell.
Strong as iron.
A protector.
A man I trust. More than any other man I can think of.
A man I love. Completely, with my whole heart.
“I believe you,” I whisper.
Rourke’s impossibly dark eyes grow tender, then. They’re heartbreakingly beautiful right now. And they’re looking right at me. Like I’m the only thing in his universe.
“I’ve never said these words to any woman, Laney Hart. So here’s another first: I’m pretty sure I’m in love you.” He shakes his head, and laughs softly. “I’m so fucking in love with you I didn’t even see it coming. You hit me like a freight train, babe. You’re outspoken, and strong, and you aren’t afraid to do what’s right. And damned if you don’t keep me on my toes.”
“Rourke.” Despite the warmth of his body, I have goosebumps. “I’m pretty sure I love you, too.” As I say the words, for some reason laughter bubbles up from somewhere deep inside me. I’m not sure why.
And then I realize it.
I’m happy.
“Holy fuck,” he chuckles again. “This is one hell of a thing, isn’t it?”
I laugh and lay my head against his chest, my eyes suddenly wet. “Yes it is,” I say softly, breathing in the scent of him. The scent of soap, and leather, and the open road that I already know so well.
It’s crazy. All of it is. But looking back, I don’t think I’d change one single thing about the way I met Rourke Powers. Not for the world.
Rourke leans down, and kisses me. Deep and slow. My whole center of gravity seems to shift as I return the kiss. I’m dizzy, but grounded. Centered by him.
As he picks me up and carries me to his bedroom, I wrap my arms around his neck, feeling the size, and strength, and heat of him. Everything in the world feels exactly as it’s supposed to be. I don’t have a job, or a clue what I’m going to do with myself going forward. But I have him. And somehow, I know that’s all that really matters.
Whatever our future holds for us together, this is right. I’m sure of that.
More sure than I’ve ever been of anything
This life with Rourke Powers is going to be a wild ride, I’m sure. One I never could have imagined before we met.
But I know who he is. And I’m pretty sure I know what we have.
It’s a first. For both of us. And it’s exactly where I want to be.
For the rest of my life.
Epilogue
ROURKE
“They look like they’ll be very happy together,” I murmur to Laney as we watch them cut the cake.
“No they won’t,” she whispers back cheerfully. “But they’ll be rich and important, and maybe that means they won’t notice it so much.”
Laney’s sister Lindsay and her new husband Nick stand together beside a wedding cake that’s taller than either of them, with so much decoration and frosting that it looks more like a sculpture than anything edible. And I guess that’s probably the point. It’s got dozens of real-looking flowers cascading down from the top of it, and gold leaf patterns that look more to me like wallpaper than anything, but whatever.
When I said we’re watching them “cut” the cake, that’s an exaggeration. What we’re really watching them do is pretend to cut the cake. The two of them stand there, frozen smiles in place, as a group of photographers wind all around them, taking pictures of their rings, their hands on the knife, looking into each other’s eyes, her pretending to laugh at a joke he’s pretending to tell… Jesus Christ, it goes on forever. We all stand around pretending to give a shit, while we’re just waiting for the whole goddamn thing to be over.
Or maybe that’s just me.
Thank God I managed to make friends with one of the bartenders earlier. He’s got a bottle of Jack back behind the bar with my name on it. That bottle may be the only way I manage to get through this reception, I swear to Christ.
Laney told me they even have a social media consultant for this thing. Hashtag wedding of the fucking century, or some shit like that.
Laney’s sister and her new husband finally cut the goddamn cake. We all raise our drinks and clap for them while the photographers take pictures. I notice none of them are aiming their cameras at Laney and me. My bet is, they’ve been told to keep us out of the photos as much as possible. Suits me just fine.
Laney’s family, man… they’re really something else. Her mom is so uptight, it actually looks like someone’s surgically implanted a broomstick up her ass. She doesn’t give a single opinion on anything in Laney’s dad’s presence without looking at him for approval.
Her dad, Senator Hart, smells like money — the dirty kind. He’s a silver-haired southern politician right out of central casting, shaking hands, kissing babies, and laughing this big, fake-ass booming laugh. But even his flawless southern hospitality doesn’t quite extend to the likes of me. When Laney introduced me to him and her mom last night at the rehearsal dinner, I swear I thought they were gonna call the whole wedding off just so they wouldn’t have to deal with the scandal of having their older daughter show up on my fuckin’ arm.
And I even broke down and wore a suit for this.
The whole family, Laney’s sister included, was pretty much horrified to see her arrive with the likes of me. I’m pretty sure they already thought Laney was as much of a disappointment to them as she could be, but I guess we’ve done a damn good job of proving them wrong. I am clearly their worst fucking nightmare. It’s pretty obvious it’s killing them to have all their rich society friends see Laney show up on the arm of a guy with tattoos and grease under his nails.
It’s hilarious how fuckin’ scandalized these assholes all are. But the best part is, Laney’s at least as amused by it as I am.
And even though if there’s a hell, it will probably be an eternity of this fucking wedding, I wouldn’t miss being here with Laney. I love watching her give zero fucks when her mom gives her the side-eye for not playing the good little senator’s daughter. It cracked me up to see her parents flip their shit when she left her chair at the head table during dinner to come sit with me in the cheap seats.
Looking at her now, with her hair all pulled up away from her face, smiling up at me, Laney’s the most beautiful woman in the whole damn room. She even puts the bride to shame. Whatever her family thinks of her, everyone here can see it.
And she’s all mine.
Standing next to
her now among all the other guests, a glass of champagne in her hand and a beer in mine, I can’t help but laugh at how different this weekend is from last weekend.
The Lords had a fundraiser for Paisley and Bethany, to help them pay for Paisley’s hospital stay. The entire club was there, helping out. Hell, even Laney’s friend Katie the nurse was there. I’m pretty sure she still doesn’t like me all that much, but I think she might be starting to come around. We didn’t manage to raise enough to wipe the whole hospital bill out, but we came damn close. And from what Yoda says, he and Bethany will be able to pay off the rest by the end of the year.
Bethany moved in with Yoda a couple months after I convinced Laney to move into my place. Bethany fits right in with the club, and Yoda’s one happy motherfucker. Paisley's arm healed up just fine, and she’s doing great. She and Addi are pretty much best friends, too. Which is great for Paisley, because now she’s a cool kid by association at Ironwood Elementary. She doesn’t get bullied anymore.
As for Mickey, well… he’s long gone. Skipped town, just like that. At least, that’s what Yoda told Bethany. And for all intents and purposes, that’s what I told Laney, too.
The truth? Well, that’s a little more gruesome. But hell, he’s alive. He should consider himself damn lucky for that, the piece of shit. And since he jumped bail, he’s wanted for arrest in Ohio. Not to mention, he’s wanted by Jimmy Mazur, too, for failure to repay his loan.
I guess the Vietnamese got to him after we did. Turns out, Jimmy’s not the only one he still owed money to. They got their payback, though, from what I hear. With interest.
Let’s just say Mickey will never flip anyone the bird again.
I think it’s pretty safe to say, we ain’t likely to see Mickey King around here anymore.
Speaking of Mazur, it didn’t take much convincing from the club to get him to decide to leave Bethany alone. He let her quit dancing at his club without giving her any trouble, too — with a little strong-arming from Yoda and me, that is.
Laney and Bailey helped Bethany put together a résumé, and got her some decent interview clothes. With Bailey as a reference, she ended up getting a job in the main office of Ironwood Elementary School. So not only does Bethany now work during the hours Paisley’s at school, she doesn’t even have to pay for daycare. Win-win.
As for Laney, it turned out that when word got around she had quit at the hospital — and why — the women on staff started talking. Long story short, a bunch of them brought sexual harassment charges against Blake Barber. They called Laney about it, and she added her name to the suit. At first Barber vowed to fight it, but I guess his lawyer ended up talking him out of it. Eventually he agreed to resign if the women would drop the whole thing.
Once Barber left, the interim director was more than happy to re-hire Laney to her old position. She’s thrilled to be back.
And me? I’m happy as hell for her.
Just like with the cake, it takes forever for the photographers to stage the bouquet toss. As they assemble all the unmarried women in a group, I stand off to one side, nursing my beer and watching the hoity-toity shitshow in front of me with amusement. I wonder whether they’re gonna do this shit a bunch of times too, so they can get it from every angle. But in the end, I guess that’s too fuckin’ ridiculous, even for them.
With a big, wide smile, Lindsay turns her back away from the crowd of women, winds up, and tosses the bouquet behind her.
In exactly the opposite direction from Laney.
Some chick on the other side of the group catches the thing, and everyone starts clapping and screaming like she just won the goddamn lottery. Beaming, Lindsay goes over to take a shitload of pictures with the lucky winner.
Laney turns and rolls her eyes at me. I wink.
“God, could that have been any more obvious?” she laughs when she’s back by my side. “I bet all the women who stood by me are just kicking themselves. They should have known better.”
“You think they all wanna get married that bad?”
“No,” she laughs. “But did you see how many pictures Lindsay took with the one who caught it? That’s prime social media real estate, being in a picture with the bride of the season!”
“LOL,” I quip.
“By the way, you are really rocking that suit,” Laney tells me with a grin. “And I’m not the only one who thinks so. Do you know, every one of Lindsay’s bridesmaids has been stealing glances at you, trying not to openly lust? I think they can’t decide whether to admire me or hate me for being with you.”
“Well, don’t get used to it. This monkey suit is coming off as soon as I can manage it.”
“Ooh. Is that a promise?” she says, elbowing me and wiggling her eyebrows.
“It is.” I turn and give her a look. “You wanna ditch this reception and go back to the hotel?”
“Do I?” she practically squeals. “Take me away from all of this, and I’ll be forever in your debt.”
We slip out of the party a few minutes later. I open the passenger door of Laney’s car and help her inside, then go around and get into the driver’s seat. She heaves a sigh of contentment and pulls off her shoes, murmuring how happy she is to be out of there.
As I’m driving back to the hotel, I find myself thinking about a wedding of our own. Oh, not like this one. I know without even asking Laney that this isn’t her scene. Besides, her family will probably be so fucking scandalized if and when we decide to get married, they’ll probably all have a collective heart attack and refuse to come.
My sister Regan will be on board though. I know that for a fact. Laney and I rode out to visit her at college about a month ago, and the two of them got along like a house on fire. Regan would love to have Laney as a sister-in-law. Especially since we basically don’t have any other family.
The drive to the hotel is short, and we make it in comfortable silence, each of us lost in our thoughts. When we get there, we go up to our room, and I do to her what I’ve been dying to do ever since I saw her in that red dress.
“Be careful with the zipper,” she says breathlessly, turning her head to look over her shoulder as I struggle with it. “I rented this dress through one of those online companies. It has to go back soon, and I’ll get charged if it’s damaged.”
I’m actually disappointed. “You mean I’m not gonna see this thing on you again?”
“I mean…” she looks at me coyly through lowered lashes as I unzip the thing down to her waist, then turns around. “We still have a couple more days with it…”
A low chuckle rumbles up through my throat as I slide my hands over the smooth, silky fabric covering her curves. It’s soft, but it’s got nothing on her skin. “In that case, I’m not gonna vouch for this thing making it back unscathed.”
I slip one hand under the skirt, gripping her thigh and pulling her back into me, so my cock is pressing against her ass. She moans and leans into me, and I reach around, sliding a finger under the lacy black thong I know she’s got under there. She stiffens, letting out a little gasp, as I find her wet and ready.
“Fuck me, Laney. I’ll never get tired of this,” I growl, my own voice tight as I struggle to contain myself. “I’ll never get tired of you. Of us.”
She turns her head back to me, and I kiss her from behind as I swirl my fingers around her swollen, needy pussy. Her hips thrust toward my hand, riding the rhythm, her body trusting me. I don’t know how the fuck it happens, but every single time we do this, it just gets better and better. I love hearing the way she moans my name. I love making her gasp, making her body respond under my touch. I love everything about this.
I fucking love everything about her.
Somehow I manage to get her out of that dress, and then we’re a tangle of bodies, skin to skin. I make her come, bucking against my tongue, tasting her sweet juices. Then I pull her against me, entering her up to the hilt. For a second, I have to close my eyes against the pleasure so I don’t fucking lose it. Then we find the dance
that’s all ours — her hips flexing against me as I move inside her, heat gathering, ready to combust. She locks eyes with me, her lips parting as her breathing gets shallower, more ragged. The pressure builds inside me, unstoppable. Then, suddenly, her nails dig into my thighs, her lids fluttering shut as she tightens and comes again, moaning my name as she pulses around me. I release inside her, white hot pleasure washing over me like a tidal wave.
Just like she does every night, Laney falls asleep in my arms. I listen to her deep, even breathing, and lie there, thinking about what a lucky fucking bastard I am.
Call me a romantic. Call me whatever the fuck you want. But I’m gonna make this woman my wife.
Because no matter what our future holds — what we have is real. It’s solid.
And it’s rare as shit.
Yep. I’m one of the lucky ones.
And I want her to know I know it. Every time she looks in my eyes. And every time she looks down at the ring I’m gonna put on her finger one day soon.
I love her, and always will. Now, and forever.
* * *
I hope you LOVED Rourke and Laney’s story!
There will be more books in the Ironwood MC series soon, I promise!
In the meantime, if you want to read Gage and Bailey’s story, it’s in my Christmas novella Dirty Santa.
Click here to read it!
Daphne Talks Out Her Ass About IRON WILL
So, recently, I’ve started doing this thing where at the end of my books, I’ll just ramble on for a little bit about something that was happening while I was writing the book in question. Sometimes it will give you a little insight on how I developed a character, or something that happens during a scene, or a song that inspired me. And sometimes it’s just me talking out my ass.
Hence, the title of this section.
Iron Will: Lords of Carnage: Ironwood MC Page 20