Chrome: With a Heart Forged in Steele (Carolina Bad #4)

by Rie Warren

Advancing on her with a prowl, I dared, “C’mon, racy Rayce. Let me show you how real men turn up the heat in the kitchen.”

  Chapter Eight

  Jingle Balls

  RAYCE SQUEAKED WHEN I jumped at her. I took her hand in mine, led her to the chopping block. I stood behind her, pressing the length of my body against her back, peering over her head.

  What a fucking view. With my height I could see the dip in her creamy cleavage. Her breath started coming a little faster, a little shallower. I had her right where I wanted her, boxed in my arms, her ass nestled against me, my cock hard, heavy, and solid against her.

  Reaching around her, I grabbed the super-sharpened knife, and handed her the hilt. I wrapped my big paw around her smaller hand.

  “You have to be very careful with knives, princess.” I let her hand go, motioning for her to set the blade in motion on fresh rosemary and sprigs of thyme.

  My hands slid from her waist to the bottom of her breasts. I toyed with the undersides, skimming my hands back and forth.

  Her chopping slowed. Her breath sped.

  “A nice long blade is always the way to go.” Nuzzling the nape of her neck, I lowered my stance, rubbing my cock against her ass.

  I palmed the globes of her tits, rasping my fingers across her nipples.

  She dropped the knife with a sharp intake of breath.

  “Hmm.” My hand flat on her belly, I jerked her harder against me. “Maybe you shouldn’t play with knives after all, princess.”

  Bracing herself with her hands on the chopping block, she circled her ass against my hard, bulging cock. “Jesus, Boomer.”

  I stepped back and she almost sagged to the floor. Holding her around the waist, I steered her to the stove where the marinade-cum-sauce bubbled.

  “You want everything to get really hot.” Sucking on her earlobe, I smiled as she whimpered.

  I guided her hand to the spoon in the saucepan. “So you gotta keep everything moving, make sure everything gets the right amount of attention.” I grinded slowly against her, and her hand faltered. “Keep stirring, princess.”

  Cupping her generous tits, I tweaked her nipples.

  The moment she shivered with a long moan, I spun her around. Her face clasped between my hands, I took her mouth in a deep kiss. My tongue darted between her lips, her throaty sigh spinning around me. I slanted her head, angled her neck, and plunged deep into the wet silk of her mouth, groaning when her tongue tangled with mine.

  I slowly pulled my head back. “So, you see, princess? I know exactly how to heat things up.”

  She lowered her face, panting against my neck.

  The tantalizing pressure of my cock connected with the juncture of her legs. “You’re getting wet for me, aren’t you?”

  Clutching my biceps, Rayce tilted up her head. She nodded, her eyes half-shaded.

  “Wish I had time to drag down your pants, pull off your panties, get my mouth on your pussy.”

  She thrust against me.

  “Gimme your hand,” I ordered.

  She complied, and I placed it on the thick obscene bulge in my jeans. My cock jumped and pumped at the contact.

  “This is what you do to me. Every damn time I see you, think about you, touch you.”

  Grabbing the back of her neck, I dragged her in for one more hot, horny kiss before releasing her.

  Rayce was wobbly. Her eyes bright, dazzled, hooded. Her lips swollen.

  I rubbed them with my knuckle and commented, “Love seeing your juicy mouth like this. Wanna see your other slick lips, make them nice and swollen from my tongue. Make you ready for my cock.”

  “Boomer.” She took a shuddering breath, her eyes drifting closed, her body arching.

  I cupped her through her leathers, and her hips undulated. She gripped my wrist. Sliding my fingers up and down, I bit and sucked her neck.

  Then I stopped. Truth was I was way too fired up and she was far too tempting. I needed to cool it down a bit if we were going to make it through the rest of the day. Without ripping each other’s clothes off.

  “I think we better serve dinner.” My breathing ragged, my voice came out deep and unrecognizable.

  Rayce bit her lip, nodding.

  Fuck. I made her speechless. Nice. No more trash-talkin’ for a change.

  Until I caught her muttering, “Big muscles. Good with babies. Knows how to dance. And can cook. Quadruple hate.”

  Laughter burst out of me.

  A few minutes later, we had the food on the table.

  “Dinners on!” I bellowed.

  Brodie came in, clapping. “And you didn’t even set fire to the kitchen.”

  “Wouldn’t say that,” Rayce mumbled.

  “Hey.” I smacked my brother on the back of his thick skull. “That happened when I was twelve.”

  “And again when you were fourteen.”

  “At least I know my way around a kitchen.”

  “And other things,” Rayce muttered under her breath.

  When we sat down, I made sure she was by my side.

  As used to be the tradition in the Steele household, we all joined hands. Me, Rayce, Cole, Ashe, Brodie, Cara, Cat, Nick.

  “Been a long time since this house was so full. So happy.” I squeezed Rayce’s hand, not daring to look at Brodie or Cat. “Christmas is a time for family. Some of us lost ours.”

  Nick cleared his throat with quiet, “Damn.”

  “But we found new people who fit. To those we miss and wish were still here. To life and living it, raise a glass.”

  All across the table our glasses chimed together.

  Brodie coughed into his fist. Nick bit down on his lip. Rayce folded her hand around mine.

  Even Cole—the usually cool dude—looked a little emotional.

  I set down my glass. “Let’s dig in, y’all.”

  Dig in we did. Platters of food were passed back and forth. Forks and knives came together with metallic clinks. Glasses were emptied and refilled. Plates were scraped clean and loaded up again.

  First family Christmas in fucking forever.

  Hopefully the first of many more to come.

  And thank God, the food-eating thing kept Brodie’s big mouth shut for a long, long time.

  With the lamb and all the fixings chawed down to bare bones and bare plates, Brodie and Nick cleared the table. At least they were good for dishwashing. Or so I thought. I found them in the kitchen, hitting the bottle of tequila, snickering about having in-house designated drivers in the form of their pregnant women.

  I shoved them to the sink, confiscated the bottle, and poured my own shot, which I drilled back. Luckily Coletrane joined the dudes in the kitchen with the cleanup, per usual.

  Returning to the living room, I lounged on the couch where I listened to Cat and Ashe discuss pregnancy issues I really did not want to be privy to. Swollen ankles. Swollen tits. Bizarre food cravings.

  Ashe was an old hand at this. Cat was a newbie. Me? I did not need to be in the know.

  I wandered to the other side of the house, searching for Rayce. I found her with her nose practically pressed against the glass of the deck doors.

  Outside, Brodie was with Cara. He’d obviously ditched dishwashing duty and forgotten the snowman was supposed to wait until after the gift-giving blowout. Fucking typical. But I couldn’t find it in me to care as he and Cara went to town on the fast-melting snow, building the Mr. Frosty he’d promised earlier. Funny. Seeing the big dude next to the young girl, his leather jacket and inked hands and goatee beside her fresh face and swinging pigtails—it didn’t seem like an odd combo at all.

  Especially when Cara crammed a snowball into his grinning face.

  I ran an arm around Rayce’s waist.

  “He’s actually a really good dad.” She laid her head against my shoulder, sounding wistful.

  I squeezed her hip. “Yeah.”

  Although Brodie and I ragged on each other constantly, I was damn proud of him.

  “I’m kinda
surprised,” she said.

  “I’m not. Knew he had it in him. Hidden depths.”

  “Like you?” Rayce caressed my chest.

  “You have no idea.” I snaked her fully against me.

  I had her wedged against the door, my lips on hers when a snowball splatted the other side of the glass beside her head.

  “You’re gonna give Cara nightmares, dude!” Brodie rattled the door handle.

  Pulling Rayce into my arms, I opened the door to let the duo inside.

  “Oh. So she’s your girlfriend, Uncle Boom?” Cara let her wet mittens slap onto the floor.

  “No.” Rayce recoiled.

  “Yup.” I snatched her back against me.

  “Cool.” Cara quirked her head. “I like the blue streaks in your hair, Rayce. And my mom said you’re a mechanic too?”

  “Thanks. Yeah. I work at Stone’s.”

  “Brodie, think Mom will let me dye my hair?” Cara turned her attention to my brother.

  “Girl, you’re lucky if she even lets you have an iPhone.”

  “But you can talk her into it, right?”

  “Hell no. I’m not getting in the middle of estrogen wars.”

  Cara narrowed her eyes. “I know what that means. I have health class at school, you know?”

  “Excellent. Then we don’t have to do the Birds and the Bees thing with you.”

  “So, how about opening presents now?” I linked my fingers through Rayce’s, gesturing to Cara and Brodie.

  Cara marched into the living room, chanting, “Pre-sents. Pre-sents. Pre-sents.”

  A flurry of wrapping paper torn open, bows tossed away, cards read, boxes sailing across the room.

  Months to get it all together. Minutes to destroy it.

  Perfect.

  Rayce smiled, taking it all in. I had no idea who got what or what I’d bought for whom. I was too busy watching her.

  I tried to sneak her present in, in the midst of the mayhem.

  Handing the small box to Rayce, I whispered against her lips, “Merry Christmas.”

  “I didn’t bring anything for you. For anyone.” She looked down at the gift, her fingers stroking the paper.

  “Yeah, you did. You showed up. You’re here. That’s all I wanted.” I flicked at the bow on the box. “Gonna open it?”

  She gently untaped the package, pulling the paper aside. She lifted out the black and white Fox MX gloves that had cost a pretty penny and were worth every single cent.

  “I can’t accept these.” Rayce laid them back inside the box.

  “Bullshit.”

  “Why are you doing all this?”

  “What?”

  “Treating me like I matter.”

  I growled low in my throat. “Because you for damn sure do matter. Fuck, Rayce. You don’t get it yet?”

  How the hell did this hardcore woman have such a low profile of herself?

  It pissed me right off.

  I had an idea this crack in her self-esteem was all her dad’s fault. Because otherwise she was true guns, blazing fire, balls out. Goddamn perfect.

  Cole brought in the heavily laced eggnog. Brodie threw more logs on the fire. Shitlock climbed into the smallest empty box. We sat around, listening to Christmas songs, watching the lights dance on the walls.

  It went without saying I kept my arm around Rayce.

  “Where’s your guitar, Boom?” Brodie rolled up onto an elbow in front of the fireplace.

  “Not a clue.” Heat warmed my face from an uncomfortable blush, and I shifted uncomfortably.

  “I call bullshit on that one. In your bedroom. Right where it always is.”

  “It’s probably out of tune.” I hadn’t played—not really—for years.

  “BS again. You tune that thing almost as much as you polish your knob.”

  “Brodie. I’m gonna kill you.”

  He jumped up. “Be right back.”

  “You do not play the guitar.” Rayce pulled back to scowl at me.

  “Sings too,” Cat chimed in.

  Brodie came back down, dropped the guitar in my lap, and sat with Ashe pressed against his side.

  “Gonna fuck your face up for this, bro,” I quietly grumbled.

  “Awesome. Can’t wait ’til you try it.”

  My fingers strummed the chords, and I adjusted the frets. The sleek acoustic came to life in my hands just like it always had.

  I struck the opening chords of “She Talks To Angels”, remembering my first dance with Rayce.

  Hunching over the guitar, I forgot about everything else, everyone else but her. My voice rumbled out, a deep register, meant for her alone.

  When I hit the chorus, they all sang along. Cat and Nick danced. Rayce stared at me, fanning her face.

  Brodie whooped it up.

  My voice lowered at the end, and I cradled the guitar against me.

  “‘Jingle Balls’ next, dude!” Brodie looped an arm around Ashe.

  I checked on Cara and nodded. She was snoring, dead to the world. Thank fuck for that.

  The raunchy rendition of “Jingle Bells” had everyone singing. It didn’t take a genius to figure out the naughty lyrics I’d come up with for “Jingle Balls” along the lines of Oh what fun it is to ride sidesaddle on her saucy sleigh.

  A few songs later, I placed the guitar to the side and pulled Rayce to me on the couch.

  “I didn’t know you could sing.” She snuggled close, her luscious breasts rubbing against my arm.

  “Just a hobby.”

  “You have a really sexy voice.”

  A shiver went through me from my balls to my toes at the sultry tone of her voice.

  “You think so?” I rumbled close to her ear.

  Brodie cleared his throat, eyeing the two of us with a grin. He stood and scooped a conked-out Cara into his arms.

  “Hey, bro. We’re gonna head.”

  Ashe ran an arm around his waist.

  I made my way to the front door after them.

  “Great Christmas. One of the best.” He slapped me on the back.

  “Thank you, Boom.” Ashe kissed my cheek.

  I watched them drive away in Ashe’s unlikely Volvo, turning when Cat slipped beside me.

  “We’re outta here too.”

  Nick helped her on with her coat. “Thank you, man.”

  “No thanks necessary. Just take care of my sis.”

  Cat tapped my cheek. “He does. You don’t have to worry anymore, Boomer.”

  Cole hurried behind them. “Thanks, Prez.”

  I saw them out and shut the door.

  Rayce strutted toward me, picking up her jacket on the way.

  I locked and blocked the door with an echoing click. “Didn’t think I’d let you slip away that easily, did you, princess?”

  Chapter Nine

  Dreams of Us All Through My Head

  SWAGGERING TOWARD RAYCE, I replaced her jacket on the old wooden bench, snagged her hand, and guided her back to the living room.

  “I could probably outrun—and outride—you if I wanted to, old man.”

  “You think?” I pulled her into the unyielding circle of my strong arms. “This old man’s got enough stamina to keep you going. All. Night. Long.”

  She struggled.

  I held her tighter, my breath coasting across her lips.

  She looked up at me, her mouth parted, closing in on mine, but when I dipped my head to kiss her, she broke free.

  “Gotcha!” She laughed. Cheeks pink. Lips moist. Eyes glowing.

  I rubbed a hand across my chest. “Yeah. You have got me.”

  “Not havin’ a heart attack, are ya?”

  “Woman, you’ve got my blood pumping in all the right places.” I ranged toward her.

  She slid backward.

  That was okay. I liked this advance and prowl game with her.

  Giggling, Rayce put the couch between us. When I moved to one side, she raced to the other.

  “I’m still wondering about the name though,
of Chrome and Steele?” She darted away from the couch, heading for the doorway. “Chrome dome and all that.”

  Launching myself toward her, I tackled her. With a quick roll I landed beneath her on the rug, taking the soft impact.

  “Just try callin’ me chrome dome when I’m eating you out and you’ve got your fingers fisted in my hair to drag me closer.”

  We tussled on the floor, her trying to pin me down, me easily overtaking her. When I rolled on top, her pretty eyes danced. Her hands skimmed up and down my chest, then reached beneath the tails of my shirt. She felt the trail of hair, the tight rolls of muscle on my abs, the dusting of hair on my pecs. Her eyes drifted closed.

  “Ooohhh.” Rayce bit into her bottom lip, her breath ragged. “You feel like you’re big everywhere.”

  Her fingers clenching, her nails raked across my nipples.

  “Big enough.” I groaned as she pulled those nails down my stomach.

  With one hand cradling the back of her neck, I drew her close to my mouth. “Why are you called Rayce?”

  I chuffed quietly when her hips gyrated up, hitting my hard-on with a torturous amount of pressure.

  “Because I like it fast and furious . . .”

  Grunt.

  “On my TXT bike.”

  Groan.

  “Bet you’d like it fast and furious with me too.” I slipped one hand down to her ass, cupping it, drawing her against the thick, throbbing barrel of my erection. “What’s your real name?”

  “Rayce.” She tossed her head back, staring me in the eye.

  “C’mon.” I nipped her on her stubborn little chin. “No one would name their baby girl Rayce.”

  “Oh yeah? Well, your folks named you Harold, didn’t they?”

  “Touché. Now tell me.” I kissed one corner of her lips, then the other before I pressed my mouth to the length of her neck.

  “Phoebe,” she breathlessly replied.

  I touched her neck with my fingertips, barely sliding along her flesh. “Princess Phoebe.”

  She was such a tough girl. So gorgeous. Yet she looked incredibly delicate beneath me.

  “If you tell anyone, I’ll kill you.”

  I pressed onto her slowly. “I think I might like to take your punishment.”

  Our kiss was searing hot. My skin fucking tingled, and a galvanizing pulse of blood made my cock swell even harder in my jeans.