Ride Rough

by Laura Kaye

  Becca came up behind him and wrapped her arms around his firm stomach. “You’re the sweetest.”

  He chuckled as he stirred the thick, meaty sauce. “Don’t tell anyone.”

  “Too late,” Jeremy said as he walked into the room, Charlie right behind him. The two of them were pretty much attached at the hip these days, which Becca found completely awesome. Her brother had been a loner for so much of his life. He deserved someone as special and fun and loving as Jeremy Rixey.

  Eileen loped out after them. Becca had rescued the three-legged German shepherd puppy off the street near the hospital the first week she’d met Nick, back before she’d realized she’d never be returning to her own place again. At first, that was because it hadn’t been safe—multiple break-ins had proven that. Now, even though all their mysteries had been solved and threats had been neutralized, it was because her home was here.

  “Hey,” Becca said, bending down to pet the monster-sized puppy. “You guys are just in time. We’re getting ready to eat. Wanna join?”

  Jeremy ran his inked hand over his short dark-brown hair, which was still growing out following brain surgery just over a month ago. None of them had emerged unscathed from the investigation into the corruption that had killed her father and blackened his team’s reputations. Charlie had been abducted and maimed, two of his fingers cut off to try to make him talk. And Jeremy had been pistol-whipped by a fleeing bad guy who’d attacked them at a funeral. But both of them were doing so much better now. “We already had some,” Jeremy said with a grin. “You know I wouldn’t miss Nick’s Sloppy Joes.”

  “Pretty much everyone else ate already,” Nick said, pressing a kiss against Becca’s hair. “Everyone” meaning the other four members of Nick’s team and their respective girlfriends, all of whom were crashing in temporary digs here until a huge-scale rebuilding and renovation project was done, which would create six loft-style apartments in the other half of the L-shaped Hard Ink building.

  Peering out from between long strands of blond hair, Charlie nodded. “We’re gonna catch a movie.”

  After weeks of being on lockdown here, the idea of just going out to do something as casual and normal as seeing a movie still felt strange to Becca. “Oh, well, that sounds like fun.”

  “How was work today?” Charlie asked in that quiet way he had.

  She came around the counter to him. Sometimes she was completely overwhelmed by her relief that they’d managed to rescue him from the Church Gang. And by her love for him, her only remaining family member. “It was good. Business as usual.” Playfully, she pushed his hair back off his face. “I like it long, you know.”

  “Yeah?” he asked, his gaze a little shy. Even around her. “Me too.”

  “Me too,” Jeremy said in a loaded tone, waggling his eyebrows as he planted a kiss on Charlie’s cheek.

  Becca laughed and held up her hands as Charlie’s cheeks pinked, which was when she noticed the guys’ T-shirts. Jeremy’s was white with a headless stick figure. It read, I need head. Charlie’s was blue and read, I’m Getting Real Tired of Wearing Pants and Having Responsibilities. Jeremy’s innuendo-filled T-shirt collection was legendary around here, and Charlie had been borrowing Jer’s clothes ever since he’d been rescued, although he usually picked the least dirty shirts Jeremy had. It was just another thing Becca loved about Jeremy, and about the way he loved and took care of her brother.

  “Speaking of responsibilities, how did things go with the construction today?” she asked as Nick passed her two plates. She placed them on the breakfast bar, then grabbed some silverware and napkins.

  Jeremy flicked his tongue against the piercing on his bottom lip and braced his hands on the counter. “Inspectors were out this morning and signed off on everything that’s been done so far. Contractor’s hoping to have the exterior shell totally done before winter. Fingers crossed.”

  “Considering a few weeks ago there was just a big hole out there, that sounds pretty good,” Becca said.

  “Yeah,” Jeremy said, something dark momentarily passing through his gaze. And Becca didn’t have to guess at what it was. There’d been a big hole because the arm of the building that had previously stood in that spot had been destroyed by a military-grade explosive device launched at the building in a predawn attack by the enemies of Nick’s team. An attack that had resulted in the deaths of two of Jeremy’s friends, members of the Raven Riders Motorcycle Club, which had been helping protect them. On some level, Becca knew Jeremy blamed himself for that. “Well, we better go.”

  Charlie nodded and made for the door, where he paused for a moment. “Hey, Becca?”

  “Yeah?”

  For a moment it seemed like he struggled for words. “Have a good night,” he finally said, and then he ducked out, Jeremy right behind him.

  “Thanks,” she said, then turned to Nick. “Was that weird, or is it just me?”

  Nick shrugged as he pulled buns out of a bag. “I think he was worried about you being at work today.”

  “Oh.” The thought made her heart squeeze.

  Soon, she and Nick were seated at the bar together with overflowing Sloppy Joe sandwiches, some of the pasta salad she’d made over the weekend, and chips. Eileen curled up on the floor next to Becca’s tall chair.

  “This is the best dinner ever,” she said.

  “That’s because you’re easy to please,” he said with a smile that brought his dimple out to play. A man with so many rough edges . . . and a dimple. It slayed her every time.

  “So how was your day?” she asked.

  “Uh, good. Made a lot of progress on the new office,” he said. They were turning the previously empty first-floor spot next to their tattoo shop into a high-tech suite of offices for the new security consulting company Nick and his team were opening. “Kinda funny that Jeremy bought this old warehouse because it was cheap, and now it’s turned out to be the perfect space for all of us.”

  Becca smiled. “Yeah. I’m glad everyone is still going to be around here when all the work is done.” It had seemed so empty around the building when, earlier in the summer, most of the team had cleared out to return to their homes and pack up their lives to relocate here permanently.

  “Me too, Sunshine. This all feels right.” Nick wiped up some sauce from his plate with the edge of his bun.

  “Where is everyone anyway?” Becca asked. “It’s so quiet.” With six couples living out of two loft apartments, only one of which had a finished kitchen, it often felt a little like a college dorm around there.

  “Shane, Sara, Easy, and Jenna went out to dinner earlier. And I think Beckett, Kat, Marz, and Emilie decided to finish up some painting downstairs.”

  Becca leaned in for a kiss. “It’s weird to be alone.”

  Nick laughed. “Roger that.”

  “We could have sex on the counter,” Becca said, giving him a seductive look.

  He froze with a potato chip halfway to his mouth. “Is this something you’ve been thinking about?”

  “Pretty much if it involves you and sex, you can bet I’ve thought about it,” Becca said, grinning at the expression on his face, part dumbfounded, part aroused. “What can I say? You’re very inspiring.”

  He wiped his mouth and slipped off his stool, then he spun her around to face him, his big body surrounding hers. He tilted up her chin. “Right back atcha, Becca. But nothing is sidetracking me from getting my ink on you tonight. You hear me?”

  She rested her hands against his chest. “No sidetracking intended.”

  His fingers slid into her hair. “Uh-huh. Now, you ready for your tattoo? Because I’m dying to get my hands on you.”

  WEARING ONLY HER bra and jeans, Becca sat in a chair in the middle of Nick’s tattoo room. Since the shop was closed while Jeremy focused on getting the construction on the other half of the building started, they were the only ones down there. The driving beat of a rock song played from the radio as Nick moved around the room getting everything ready.


  Cabinets and a long counter filled one wall, which was otherwise decorated with drawings, tattoo designs, posters, and photographs of clients.

  Becca had seen Nick work before and loved the dichotomy of this hard-edged, lethal soldier having a soft, artistic side. He was really freaking talented, too.

  He handed her three sheets of paper. “I worked up a couple different fonts. What do you think?”

  She shifted between the pages. “This one,” she said, settling on the cursive design that best interweaved the letters in the words Only, Always, Forever.

  “That was my favorite, too,” he said, giving her a wink. “How is this for size? Bigger? Smaller?”

  The total design as he had it on the sheet was about four inches square, the words stacked atop one another. “This looks good to me. What do you think?”

  Nick nodded and came behind her. He folded the sheet to focus on the design, then held it against the back of her right shoulder. “Yeah. This is a good size for the space. Gonna be fucking beautiful.” He leaned down and pressed a kiss to her skin. “Let me go make the stencil, and we’re ready to go.”

  A few minutes later, he cleaned her skin, affixed the stencil, and let her look at its placement before getting her settled into the chair again.

  He pulled her bra strap off to the side. “Ready?”

  “Very,” she said, butterflies doing a small loop in her belly.

  The tattoo machine came to life on a low buzz. “Just relax and let me know if you need a break, okay?” he said, dipping the tip into a little plastic cup of black ink.

  “Okay.” His gloved hands fell against her skin, and then the needles. Almost a scratching feeling, it didn’t hurt nearly as bad as she thought it would. And just like when he’d drawn on her with skin markers, she was already dying to see what it looked like.

  “How you doing?” he asked in a voice full of concentration she found utterly sexy. Just the thought that he was permanently altering her skin—just like he’d permanently altered her heart, her life, her very soul—sent a hot thrill through her blood.

  “I’m good,” she said, relaxing into the sensation of the bite moving across her skin. “Is it weird that I kinda like how it feels?”

  He didn’t answer right away as the needle moved in a long line. He pulled the machine away and wiped at her shoulder. “Not weird at all,” he said, his voice a little gravelly. “Some people like the sensation and even find getting tattoos addictive.”

  “I can see that,” she said. He worked without talking for a stretch, and the combination of the quiet intensity radiating off of him, the driving rock beat, and the buzz of the machine was heady and intoxicating. She found herself breathing a little faster and wanting so much more of him to be touching so much more of her. If she thought he was sexy putting ink on someone else, it was nothing compared to how she felt when he was doing it to her.

  “What are you thinking about so hard?” Nick asked, his breath caressing her bare shoulder.

  “Really want to know?” she asked, already smiling at what his reaction might be.

  “Always,” he said, wiping at her skin. He dipped the machine in the ink and leaned in again.

  “How turned on this is making me.” She really wanted to turn to see his expression but knew she wasn’t supposed to move.

  He pulled the machine away again. “Jesus, Becca. You’re killing me here.”

  She grinned. “I asked if you really wanted to know.”

  Nick chuffed out a laugh. “Yeah, well, I’ve never had a fucking hard-on the entire time I’ve done a tattoo before, so you’re not the only one.”

  Becca unleashed a small moan. “Now you’ve got me thinking about your cock, Nick.” She couldn’t help the hint of a whine in her voice.

  “You’ll never convince me that that’s a bad thing, Sunshine.”

  “God, I really want to touch you right now,” she said, heat spreading over her body.

  “Be still,” he said, his tone full of a stern command that made her smile.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Fucking yes, sir,” he grumbled under his breath.

  Another long stretch passed without them talking, but knowing that what they were doing was arousing Nick as much as it was her made her wet and needy and absolutely ready to jump him the minute she could.

  Nearly ninety minutes had passed by the time Nick said, “There. It’s done.” He wiped at her skin and handed her a mirror. “Take a look.”

  Anticipation made her belly feel like she was looking over the edge of a tall cliff. She crossed to the mirror and turned her back to it, then lifted the hand mirror to see her first tattoo.

  “Oh, Nick,” she said, her gaze drinking it in. The way the stacked letters intertwined with one another was so beautifully done. “It’s . . . gorgeous.” Her heart squeezed in her chest. “You are so freaking talented.” She looked from the mirror to where he still sat, his gaze glued to her face.

  “I think it looks phenomenal on you. You really like it?” he asked.

  She looked at her ink again. The stark crispness of the black lettering was so striking against her skin. She adored everything about it—the design, the words, their meaning. “I don’t just like it. I love it, Nick. It’s perfect. Everything I wanted.” Her gaze cut back to him. “Just like you.”

  “Come here,” he said, his voice a little rough. When she stood right in front of him, he pressed a kiss between her breasts. “It was an honor, you letting me do that.”

  She dragged her hands through his dark brown hair. “Sweet, sweet man,” she said, leaning down to kiss him. It started off soft, full of gratitude and love, but quickly flashed hot until they were devouring one another, claiming, wanting, moaning.

  “Fuck, Becca,” he said, pulling back. “Let me take care of your tattoo.”

  Wiping the wetness from her lips, she smiled and nodded. “Okay.” She sat back in the chair, and Nick cleaned the skin over her tattoo and taped a bandage to it.

  “All done,” he said. “Now, there’s just one more thing I need to do.”

  CHAPTER 4

  Holy hell, had Nick ever been this nervous in his life? He’d faced down warlords, captured terrorists, survived IED explosions, and been shot on multiple occasions. Yet he’d never felt the kind of queasy, can’t-quite-manage-a-deep-breath nerves he felt just then.

  He retrieved the little black box from the drawer where he’d hidden it, fisted it in his palm, and came to stand in front of Becca. He gave her a hand to stand up, then slowly sank to one knee.

  “What are you—” Becca gasped. “Nick?”

  “Becca.” Looking up at her beautiful face, he grasped her left hand. “When you walked through my door, you changed my whole life. You gave me purpose when I had none. You brought my family back together when I was so alone. You believed in me when no one else did, including myself. You fought for me and loved me and made me a better man.” Glassy, bright blue eyes stared down at him with so much love. “You shined light on places inside me I thought would never emerge from the dark, and you helped me reclaim my integrity, my honor, and my life.” A knot lodged in Nick’s throat. “You saved me from becoming someone I didn’t recognize, and because of you I have a life worth living. But only if you’ll walk it with me.”

  “Nick,” she rasped, her voice thick with unshed tears.

  He flipped open the box and pulled out the diamond and platinum round-cut ring. A halo of smaller stones surrounded the center stone, creating what to him looked like a sun. More accent stones lined the band, giving it a classic, vintage look. He’d known it was the right ring as soon as he’d seen it. Slowly, he slid the diamond onto Becca’s ring finger. “I love you with everything that I am, and everything I want to be. Please do me the greatest honor of my life and say you’ll be my wife, my partner, my best friend, my companion. Becca Merritt, will you marry me?”

  For a split second that felt like eternity, she looked down at her shaking hand. And then she sank to h
er knees in front of him and grasped his face. “Yes,” she said, kissing him. “Only you. Always you. Forever you, Nick. Yes.”

  “Aw, Sunshine,” he said, sliding his hands into her hair. “You make me happier than I ever thought I could be.”

  “I feel the exact same way,” she said, tears finally leaking from the corners of her eyes. “I love you so much.”

  He kissed her on a groan, his spirit more buoyant and triumphant than it had ever been. Even more than when their records had been cleared and their honor had been restored. That had been exactly what he’d deserved, but this . . . this was more than he ever knew to want.

  Becca’s hands fisted in his shirt as she sucked hard on his tongue, a needy, desperate moan spilling from her throat. The sound shot right to his cock, making him rock hard in an instant and bringing back every bit of the aching lust he’d felt while he’d been doing her tattoo. Christ, if he thought it was arousing to mark her with his ink, it was nothing compared to what it did to him to know she’d just agreed to be his forever. He was fucking flying.

  Nick tore open the button to her jeans. “Need in you.”

  “Yes,” she said, tugging up his shirt. He helped her pull it over his head. For a moment, they were a whirl of shedding clothes and grasping hands and claiming kisses until they were both naked and panting and hot.

  He sat in the chair where she’d been sitting and guided her down to his lap, her back to his front. “Take me inside of you, Becca. Ride me so fucking hard.”

  She took his cock in hand and sank down on him in one slow, slick stroke. “Oh, God,” she rasped when he bottomed out inside her. “Needed you so much. All day.”

  He grasped her hips, his fingers digging into her soft flesh. “I’m here. Right here.”

  Hands braced on his thighs, Becca lifted herself up and down on his cock, riding him until they were both moaning, desperate, shaking. Her nails bit deliciously into his quads, making him do a double take at the big diamond on her left hand. And fuck if that didn’t escalate the urgent ache in his balls—to pour himself deep, deep inside her, and never let go.