Wicked Impulse (ALFA Private Investigations #3)

by Chelle Bliss

  I hummed the tune to “Swing Low, Sweet Chariot” as I walked toward the door. When I finally worked up the nerve to open it, I was pleasantly surprised by what I saw.

  “Good evening, Franny.” Bear held out a small bouquet of flowers as his eyes traveled down my body. “You’re looking stunning.”

  I graciously took them and gave them a quick sniff. “Thank you. They’re beautiful,” I told him. “Would you like to come in while I put these in some water?” My voice wavered.

  He nodded. “Sure.”

  I tried not to skip to the kitchen from excitement. Bear brought me flowers. I don’t think anyone, not even Ray, had ever brought me a bouquet. “I’ll be quick.” I bent over and grabbed a vase from under the sink and caught a glimpse of Bear standing behind me. His eyes were glued to my ass, and I slowed down to give him a longer look.

  He cleared his throat when I started to stand and turn around. “How was your day?” he asked as I started to arrange the flowers in the clear vase, and I noticed the redness in his face.

  “Busy. Yours?”

  He turned his body, adjusting himself and trying to be discreet but failing completely. “Busy too.”

  “So where are we headed?” I couldn’t stop myself from chattering because I was so nervous. There was an awkwardness tonight I hadn’t felt before.

  “I thought we’d head down to the little place by the beach.”

  I smiled because the sun would be setting soon, and it’d been too long since I’d watched it descend below the horizon of the Gulf of Mexico. “That sounds lovely.” Suddenly, I sounded more like June Cleaver than Fran DeLuca.

  “Ready?” he asked, jostling back and forth on his feet, just as nervous as I was.

  “Yeah. You?”

  “Yep.” His answer was short, and he was heading to the door before the vase was entirely filled with water.

  I heard him mumbling to himself in the front room. He was giving himself a pep talk, and I could only make out a few words. I couldn’t wipe the smile off my face as I set the flowers on the table near the window. A man like Bear never seemed to have a problem with self-esteem, and I found it endearing that he had to give himself a talk.

  “Let’s hit it,” I said as I breezed into the living room to a pacing Bear.

  When we went outside and I locked the door, he asked, “Are you good with being on a bike?”

  “It’s been a while, but yeah.”

  I hated bikes, but I didn’t tell him that. I knew the man rode his faithfully, and who was I to stop him? Ray had one too, but after my third time on the bike, I never went on it again. I ended up punching him in the ribs when he took a turn a little too sharp for my liking. After that, he never asked me to go with him on another ride, and I was perfectly happy riding in my car instead.

  After Bear got situated, he held out his hand like a perfect gentleman and helped me climb onto the back. I set my hands on his shoulders and waited.

  “You have to wrap your arms around me,” he said, glancing over his shoulder at me. “And hold on.”

  “Sorry.” I smiled, and as soon as he turned around, I swallowed hard, looked up toward the sky, and said a silent prayer.

  Wrapping my arms around Bear was like anchoring myself to a mountain. His chest was so wide that my fingers barely clasped in front of his chest. The muscles underneath my hands flexed when my arms tightened. The butterflies that had fluttered in my belly earlier started to move as if they were on hyperdrive. My body slid forward, pressing my chest against the warmth of his back. I wanted to lay my head against him and close my eyes, but I didn’t want him to think I was a weirdo—even though I was.

  “You good, babe?” he asked and patted my hands.

  “I’m good,” I whispered softly, shimmying my body so there wasn’t a sliver of space between us.

  He slid on his glasses that had been hanging near his handlebars and started the bike. The roar of the engine caused the entire machine to vibrate, sending tiny shock waves of pleasure through my system.

  I wondered if that was part of the charm of a motorcycle and having a woman on the back—the closeness, the large vibrator in the form of a bike, and the wind through our hair. It was like an aphrodisiac that couldn’t be replicated by anything else.

  As we pulled out on to the street, I couldn’t stop myself from resting my head against his back and closing my eyes. The mix of fear, adrenaline, and lust had me light-headed.

  Chapter Seven

  Bear

  The last woman who had wrapped her body so tightly around me on the back of the bike was Jackie. It felt like home the moment Fran put her head against my back, and I took off down the road.

  The ladies from the bar that I’d sometimes take home on my bike were so comfortable they’d barely hold on, let alone plaster themselves to my body.

  I forgot how nice it was too.

  “Tell me more about your wife,” Fran said after our first beer.

  We’d spent the last half hour talking about our pasts, something I rarely did with anyone. “She had one of those smiles that could light up a room. When she laughed, no matter what was happening around me, I couldn’t help but laugh too. Sometimes I try to remember the sound of it, but it’s so faint that it just brings me sadness.”

  “I’m sorry. It sounds like she was a great girl.”

  “She was one of the best.”

  She moved the empty glass around on the table and avoided my eyes. “Why didn’t you ever remarry?”

  “I went to a dark place when I lost her.” I picked at the label on my beer and stared out into the ocean, watching the waves roll in and crash against the shore. “I wouldn’t have been good for anyone.”

  “It’s been almost thirty years, Murray. I’m sure you’re settled by now.”

  My eyes flickered to her. “I’m an old bastard now, Fran. Why didn’t you get hitched after Ray?”

  She frowned, dropping her gaze. “He was a mean fucker. When he left, I swore I’d never fall in love again. I’ve been really good at not getting close to anyone.”

  “Put all your effort into the kid?” I asked with a small smile.

  She laughed softly and bit her lip. “Yeah. Poor Morgan. He was eighteen when Ray left, and I became what they now call a ‘helicopter parent.’”

  “Ain’t nothing wrong with that,” I told her and reached out to touch her hand. “I should’ve been that way with Ret and Janice. They deserved to have me in their life, but I was too self-absorbed and lost in my own sadness to be there for them.”

  “We all have regrets. But time isn’t up yet. You can still make amends for the past.” She curled her fingers around mine. “Just don’t wait too long.”

  “Eh,” I muttered, caressing the tender skin on the back of her hand with my thumb. “It’ll probably cause more hurt after all this time. Sometimes it’s better to leave things unsaid.”

  “Is this a date?” she blurted out with a nervous smile.

  I froze for a second and began to laugh as the waitress arrived with our food. “I suppose it is.”

  Her lips curved up, almost kissing the corners of her eyes. “Good to know.”

  I was suddenly curious about the tracksuit-loving feisty woman I’d admired since the day I’d met her. “Go on a lot of dates?”

  Her hair skimmed her shoulders as she shook her head. “Not really.”

  “Me either.”

  She laughed so hard she snorted. “Don’t lie. I heard you’re quite the ladies man.”

  I chuckled softly as my face heated. “I wouldn’t say that.”

  “Well, I’ve heard the stories.”

  “Fran,” I said, suddenly feeling guilty and whorish.

  “You don’t owe me an explanation, Bear. I’m just making a general statement.”

  I stabbed at my pasta, capturing a few flimsy noodles on my fork. “Oh.”

  “I bet you’re pretty good in the sack,” she said just as I put the fork in my mouth. I stared at her for a mome

nt, chewing as fast as I could so I could respond, but she kept talking. “Probably a wild man.” She made a small roaring noise in the back of her throat.

  The fork fell from my hands and clattered against my plate. A noodle lodged in my throat, and tears formed in my eyes as I tried to cough it away.

  “Are you okay?” she asked, starting to stand.

  I grabbed her hand and kept her in the seat as I cleared my throat. “You have to stop doing that.”

  Her eyebrows rose, and she smiled innocently. “What?”

  My grip tightened on her hand. “Talking about sex with me.”

  “Sex with you or sex with you?” She smirked.

  I closed my eyes and muttered a few curse words under my breath. “Both.”

  “Isn’t that what usually happens on dates?”

  “How’s everything?” the waitress asked, interrupting us at the worst moment.

  “It’s great,” I told her without looking up. “Thank you.” When she finally scurried away, I continued. “I’m trying real hard not to think about banging the fuck out of you, Fran. I’ve never tried so hard not to think about something.”

  She leaned forward, giving me a better view of her spectacular cleavage. “Why would you do that?”

  I licked my lips, my mouth watering from the view more than from the food. “Because we should take things slower. Morgan would kill me if he knew I even said this was a date.”

  “He doesn’t have to know.” Her words came out quickly and quietly.

  I laughed and rubbed the spot where my hand had held her down before releasing her. “I don’t really like to keep secrets from him, but…”

  “There are some things he should never know.”

  She piqued my curiosity. “Like what?”

  Her smirk turned into a wicked grin. “I’ll save all my secrets until another day. We’ll see if you earn the right to know them.”

  “Fuck,” I muttered softly before picking up my fork and stabbing my food with a little more force. She had me on edge and needy.

  We sat in silence, exchanging glances as we ate. I couldn’t drag my eyes away from her mouth and the way her lips slid against the fork when she pulled it out. I kept thinking about my dick being in the same spot and the softness of her skin sliding against my shaft while the back of her teeth pressed against my head.

  “Are you okay?” she asked after catching me adjusting myself in my seat for at least the tenth time since we sat down.

  “I’m fine.” I wiped my mouth, tossing the napkin on top of my plate, and watched her in absolute heaven.

  “This is so good,” she said and let out a loud moan.

  Vixen. She knew exactly what she was doing when she made that sound.

  “Hey, will you take me to the Neon Cowboy for a drink after this? I’ve heard so much about it, and I’d love to finally step foot inside.”

  I should’ve said no. Morgan and the guys were often there and taking his mom there was a huge risk, but I couldn’t say no. She looked too excited, and I wasn’t ready to take her home yet. “Sure.”

  I knew I’d regret it the moment the words left my mouth.

  * * *

  “Are you fucking crazy?” Tank asked when Fran excused herself and went to the ladies’ room.

  “Clearly, I am.”

  “What the hell are you doing with Fran DeLuca?”

  “Just having a drink.” I shrugged and feigned innocence.

  Tank’s hand connected with the back of my head, and my body lurched forward. “Don’t be a dumbass.”

  I turned and glared at him, balling my hands into tight fists under the table. “You got a free shot—the next one I’m hitting back, fucker. We’re adults. She wanted to have a drink so I brought her.”

  “What are you going to do when Morgan hears about it?”

  “He won’t, and if he does, I’ll handle him.”

  Tank started to laugh so hard that he almost fell off his chair. “You’re a dumber shit than I thought.”

  “I really like her, Tank,” I admitted to him, feeling a weight lift off my chest from finally saying the words out loud.

  “You’re fucked, buddy. Totally fucked.”

  I glanced toward the ceiling and exhaled. “I know.”

  “Hey, guys. What did I miss?” Fran said as she sat down, brushing her hair back off of her shoulders and smiling.

  “Not a thing,” Tank replied before taking a slug of his beer and diverting his eyes.

  “This place isn’t really what I thought.”

  “What did you think it would be?” I asked.

  “I thought it would be more like a hole-in-the-wall honky-tonk.”

  “Nah,” I laughed and pulled my beer a little closer. “It’s just a good ole-fashioned biker bar.”

  She looked around the bar, slowly taking in the crowd. “Do people dance?”

  “Sometimes,” I lied.

  “Will you dance with me?”

  “Um…”

  “Come on, ya big baby. I’m sure you have some moves,” she teased me while nudging me in the ribs.

  “Okay,” I said, unable to resist her even though I knew every set of eyes in the place would be on us.

  “Dumb fucker,” Tank muttered under his breath so only I could hear.

  Rising to my feet, I glared at him before holding out my hand to Fran. She slid her hand in mine with the biggest grin on her face. Just as our feet touched the empty area of the bar that was typically the dance floor, Brantley Gilbert’s “If You Want a Bad Boy” started to play.

  “I love this song,” she said as I wrapped my arms around her and pulled her closer, but I still left a little space between us. As if she knew what I was doing, her arm hooked around my neck and she closed the tiny gap.

  It took me a minute to find my footing because I couldn’t get Tank’s words out of my head, and having Fran’s tits pressed against me only made things worse.

  We locked eyes, our feet moving with the beat, and everything else seemed to disappear. All I could see, feel, or hear was Fran. Her tiny laugh when I spun her around, and the feel of her body crashing into me when I pulled her back.

  The only time my eyes left hers was to glance down at her cleavage. No girl wears a bra like that without wanting to be noticed. My hand slid lower down her back, just above her ass, when something caught my attention.

  More like someone.

  Standing near the doorway with his arms crossed and a very pissed off look on his face was Morgan, flanked by City.

  “Fuck,” I grumbled and closed my eyes, but I didn’t let go of Fran.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked, rubbing my back gently with her palm because she hadn’t caught sight of them.

  Very slowly, I slid my hand up her back and spun around so she could see them too.

  “Fuck,” she groaned, finally catching a glimpse of them. “This is a shitshow.”

  My thoughts exactly.

  I’d hoped to keep this evening to us so I didn’t need to deal with Morgan, but now I had to face him and hope he didn’t flip his shit. “Let’s get this over with.”

  City leaned over, whispering in Morgan’s ear as we approached. Morgan’s face was unreadable, but his body language wasn’t.

  “Hey, baby.” Fran spoke first, leaning forward to kiss his cheek.

  “Mom.” He glared at me as she kissed him.

  “What are you guys doing here?” she asked as she backed away.

  Morgan’s eyes hadn’t left mine. “The real question is what are you two doing here?”

  Fran came back to stand next to me, but I didn’t dare wrap my arm around her. Not that I was worried that Morgan could take me, but because I didn’t want to get into a fight with him. He was Fran’s baby. If I punched him in the face, it wouldn’t be pretty and would be the end of us before we even started.

  “I was talking to Franny about the case, and she wanted to come for a drink. Who am I to say no to her?” I shrugged, hoping that it would pacify him.

  “A word?” City asked and motioned toward the bar with his head.

  “Sure,” I replied before glancing down at Fran.

  She nodded her approval. “Morgan, buy me a drink and sit with me.”

  “I think we should leave.”

  She stepped into his space and smiled. “Baby, I’m an adult. I want a drink with my son. Now shut the fuck up and buy me one.”

  I bit my lip and tried to stifle my laughter. It wasn’t the time or the place to laugh my ass off at the way Fran handled him. Morgan wasn’t the type of guy many people fucked with, but as with any big man, they were brought down to size when their mother was around.

  “One drink,” Morgan replied as I walked away to meet an already waiting City.

  “What the fuck is wrong with you?” he said before I had a chance to say anything.

  My head jerked back in surprise. “What?”

  “Why the fuck would you bring her here?”

  City had been my friend for years. We’d walk through fire for each other, but his response shocked me. “Where am I supposed to bring her?”

  “You knew word would get back to me.”

  “No one knows her.”

  “Sure as fuck do.”

  “How?”

  “She’s been to all my parties. The guys here know her, stupid fucker.”

  “So what? We’re having a drink. It’s not like I’m banging her on the table for everyone to see.”

  He dug his fingers into his eyes and shook his head. “I can’t unsee that image.”

  He turned to the bartender. “Tequila.”

  “Make it two,” I mumbled before he could walk away. “How pissed is he?”

  “I’m lucky you’re still alive.” City chuckled softly and grabbed the two shot glasses as soon as the bartender set them in front of us. Handing me one, he said, “I may need more than one if I’m going to get through the rest of tonight.”

  “You know I can’t fight back if he hits me.”

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