Sketch: A Steel Paragons MC Novel (The Coast: Book 12)

by Eve R. Hart

  What the fuck?!

  “Sketch?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Come with me,” she whispered.

  I wasn’t sure if she was telling me or asking me or what, but fuck, yeah, I was ready to blow.

  Her pussy clamped down on me and I couldn’t help the little jerk of my hips as I tried to push my dick as far as it would go inside of her.

  I let out a long groan, my fingers digging into her skin.

  If I thought coming with her had been intense before, nothing compared to how I felt as I emptied my balls into her right now.

  “Shit,” I hissed and thrust up into her again.

  Her sweet, raw moans filled my ears and I swore I was coming some more.

  Confused, numb, and spent, I fell back against the bed.

  She came with me, her head going to my chest.

  And I just held her because it simply fuckin’ felt right.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Melissa

  I had a lot of things I needed to be dealing with. Most of those fell under the category of getting my life in order. I had no plan. No idea what I was going to do. No clue where I was going to live. I was lucky enough to have a good cushion from the divorce that it wasn’t imperative for me to figure everything out right away. However, I didn’t want to blow through that money and be left with nothing.

  My lawyer had tried to talk me into getting half of everything out of the divorce. This was before Reginald had told me that I only get one offer and if I didn’t take it, then I’d end up with nothing. My lawyer had said something along the lines of how I had put in my time and I deserved to get something for it. I was sure the fact that he’d get a percent of it was the main reason behind his drive. I never thought of it that way, putting in my time, but in a way, it had been. I had tried to be the perfect partner for Reginald even when I wasn’t happy. And while taking care of Tripp was never a burden, the fact that Reginald had left me to do it alone for the most part was something that always really bothered me. Mostly, I couldn’t believe that he didn’t interact with his son as much as I thought a father should. My first concern had always been for Tripp. And when I felt his sadness about his father not being around, I stepped up double-time to compensate for the missing parts in his life. It was something I hadn’t been aware of until Tripp was no longer around. Until he’d grown and gone out to find the life he wanted. I didn’t regret it and I would never take it back. I loved Tripp and I would do anything for him because, despite the fact we didn’t share blood, he was my son.

  I didn’t really want Reginald’s money, but I quickly came to realize that I needed it. I had none of my own. I had no career, no savings. I had absolutely nothing without Reginald. I could put all the blame on him. After all, he had been the one to suggest I quit my job. He had been the one to talk me into staying home. It would have been so easy to say that I had no means to make it on my own because of him.

  However, I didn’t want to be that person. I didn’t want to be bitter and weak. So I took responsibility for my part as well because I had gone along with it so easily. I’d been young and eager to please him because I thought it would make him happy.

  Reginald had enough to go around and then some.

  I shouldn’t have felt bad about taking what he offered, which in all honesty, was a well enough cushion to give me time to figure out things on my own.

  However, sometimes the thought of living off that money made me sick. I hated the large sum that was sitting in my bank account. And the thought that I didn’t have much of a choice because I needed that money made me sicker. Because I had put myself in the position of being dependent. Something I was sure my mother and father would be disappointed about.

  I reached for my coffee and cleared my mind so I could focus on making breakfast for the man that was still currently passed out in my bed.

  A smile lit up my face and I had to admit that I felt a little sense of victory that he’d stayed the night. I hadn’t been positive if I had wanted him to when he showed up at my door. But when I saw more in him, I was sure that I didn’t want this to end just yet. I wanted to know those parts of him. The real him that he kept hidden away from the world.

  And of course, the thought that there would be more sex might have been a part of why I was happy he’d stayed.

  Just thinking about all the things he did to my body had my cheeks heating.

  I felt sore in ways that I’d never experienced before. Even the muscles in my abs and thighs felt well worked out.

  I couldn’t pinpoint what it was about Sketch that had me so wrapped up. If it had been another person that night… well, I couldn’t say that I would have let them in again if they sought me out.

  Sketch wandered into the room just as I was flipping the last few pancakes over.

  “Whatcha makin’?” he asked, his hand scratching at his bare chest.

  He’d put his pants on but that was about it. He looked like he wasn’t ready to dodge out of here and I found myself smiling about it.

  “Pancakes,” I told him even though he could clearly see what they were.

  His hand stretched out, headed for the plate that held the mound of pancakes I’d ended up making. Without thinking, I lightly swatted his hand away with the spatula I was holding.

  He blinked at me a little shocked, but then this odd smirk broke out on his face.

  “I love pancakes,” he said, moving around behind me and wrapping his arms around my waist.

  “Do you?” I asked, turning in his arms to face him.

  It might have been something small, but I was suddenly hit with the fact I didn’t know a whole lot about the skinny, tattooed biker.

  “Well, I love food. But anything that’s sweet, hell yeah!”

  His lips met mine and I let it happen. But when I got a taste of minty freshness, I pulled back a little stunned.

  “I used your toothbrush,” he said casually as he broke away and walked over to the coffee maker. “Hope you don’t mind.”

  His tone held no apology.

  The thought made me cringe.

  Someone else using my toothbrush had always seemed gross to me. It shouldn’t have ever been a thing. Toothbrushes were like underwear, you didn’t share them.

  But then I really thought about it.

  He’d kissed me. I’d had his tongue in my mouth… as well as other places. So was it really all that different?

  I guess it wasn’t.

  Even with that logic, it was hard for me to change my thoughts about it. I suppose that wasn’t the only mindset that I had to take a good long look at. I’d just add it to the list, I guess.

  At least I wasn’t kissing his morning breath. He’d thought about me enough to take care of that. I figured I couldn’t really hate it all that much then.

  With a shrug, I plated up the food as he got his coffee ready.

  “There’s a table out on the back balcony. It might be nice to have breakfast out there,” I suggested.

  “Fine by me, I’m not all that particular on where I eat.”

  There was something more in his words but I had no idea of what it could have meant.

  I carried the plates and he brought his coffee and snatched up mine, too.

  Once we were seated, Sketch didn’t waste time practically drowning his pancakes in syrup, and then shoveling them into his mouth.

  I just stared at him for a long time.

  He was…

  Messy.

  Unaware of everything.

  Uncouth, for sure.

  But he was also…

  Sweet.

  Attentive.

  And cute. Almost in a childlike kind of way, but I didn’t see him as a child.

  Maybe more like he was one of those people that simply needed a little extra love and care.

  Sometimes, I could see a hint of sadness behind his gaze. That was the part of him I wanted to hug. I wanted to wrap myself around him and never let anything bad touch those parts of him a
gain. Which was rather silly because I didn’t even have the first clue about him. Not really.

  “Damn! These pancakes are fuckin’ amazing,” he said boisterously and full of amazement. It caught me off guard and a laugh bubbled up out of my throat. “You should stay in the kitchen all the time. I mean, damn.”

  The laugh died quickly and right away, he caught on to the fact that I wasn’t exactly thrilled with what he’d said. Perhaps my past and habits were coming out. Like the fact that my ex-husband liked me in the kitchen, and all those expectations he had of me. I refused to be that woman again. I wouldn’t let someone determine my place or my movements.

  “Nah,” he said, setting down his fork for the first time. “I see that look in your eyes and that ain’t what I mean.”

  “Well then, please explain it to me, Sketch, because what you just said was basically, ‘get in the kitchen, bitch.’ Or that is how it sounded to me.” Yes, my tone was a little snippy. Yes, I couldn’t hide the bite as I let the cuss word push itself out of my mouth. And yes, I wasn’t going to put up with anything.

  However, despite the tiny fire that had flared inside of me, my posture remained relaxed and calm. I would give him the chance to explain and I’d hear him out. But I refused to let something like that slide.

  “All I’m sayin’,” he said, hands up as if that would set me at ease. “I love food and this shit is bangin’. If you enjoyed yourself making it, then I would love to be around every time you do. I ain’t saying that a woman belongs in the kitchen. But if she likes it there, then I’m there too. Especially if it’s like this.”

  He pointed down at the plate in front of him but it was the features of his face that said it all. His brows raised in surprise. His eyes wide like he couldn’t believe how wonderful the thing in front of him was. His smile so big it took up the bottom half of his face.

  I relaxed, feeling a little embarrassed that I’d jumped on him so quickly.

  “I’m sorry.” Even though I said the words calmly, I truly meant them.

  “Nah, baby, ain’t gotta be sorry. I say shit that comes off wrong all the time. You probably already figured out that I don’t come with a filter and I don’t have any manners.”

  He shrugged like that was the best explanation I’d get.

  But why?

  Why was he like that?

  Was he raised in a barn?

  That last thought entered my mind and I shook my head.

  I sounded exactly like Reginald’s mother.

  Some people feared turning into their parents. I feared turning into my in-laws. And that last thought right there rang with the disgusted, judgmental tone of my now ex-mother-in-law.

  It didn’t matter that Sketch ate like a toddler. Or that he was covered in ink. Or even that he didn’t seem to know proper English. What mattered was that despite the little snag we’d just had, I was enjoying my time with him. I wanted him here.

  And if I was honest, his speech was cute.

  It fit him, and I realize that could have come off as offensive or mean, but I wasn’t saying it in a way of looking down on him.

  Perhaps the fact that he was so far the opposite of Reginald was the reason I felt drawn to him. Maybe in my own little way, I was rebelling. But to hell with it, I didn’t want to stop now.

  Then again, it could have been that it was easy to tell that Sketch needed someone to care for him. Someone that had a softer touch and would look out for him. I had a feeling that wasn’t something he’d ever admit, but there was this sad boy inside of him that never received the love he needed. I could sense it. Maybe even see it on the surface at times. And I was, well, good at taking care of people.

  “I like you,” I blurted out softly at basically the same moment I realized it.

  “Yeah?” he asked as he sat a little taller. His eyes danced with something, making them look both hopeful and skeptical somehow. “That’s good. ‘Cause I like the fuck outta you.”

  “I couldn’t tell,” I said with humor in my tone. “You keep coming back to me.”

  He smiled almost proudly.

  “You ain’t complaining.”

  “I absolutely am not,” I said and tried to hide my smile behind a sip of coffee.

  “So does this mean you’ll stop resisting me now?”

  “I don’t know…” I replied playfully. “I might need a reminder of why I should let you in again.”

  The chair scraped against the wood as he shot to his feet. The last two bites of his pancake were forgotten as he grabbed my hand and pulled me to my feet. I didn’t have a moment to catch my balance— or sanity— before he was dragging me back inside.

  I laughed so ridiculously, trying my hardest to keep up with him.

  I ended up on the couch, guessing that the bedroom was too far away for his liking right now.

  And I didn’t mind one single bit.

  As he set my body on fire, I was slammed with so many things that it became overwhelming.

  The one that hit me the hardest was that I’d never in all my years felt this way with someone.

  And perhaps that was the real reason I would let go of even the smallest amount of resistance I had left and surrender completely over to Sketch.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Sketch

  I couldn’t focus for shit.

  Melissa had gotten in my head and she was all I could fucking think about.

  I looked down at my sketch pad and hoped I would see the lines of the piece I was supposed to be working on for a regular client.

  All I saw was the curve of her hip and perfectly shaded ass in front of me.

  Damn. Had I really done all that? I must have been lost in thought, my hand working to create the image in front of me. Clearly, the thing I’d been thinking about.

  A smile curved up the corners of my lips as I looked at it.

  I liked Melissa.

  I liked her even better naked.

  I would even say that I had fallen hard for her. Though saying that L word out loud might have been a little too much for me.

  I’d mapped out and memorized every single curve and dip of her body. I’d traced every single one of those curves and dips with my fingers and tongue enough times that I didn’t even have to look to know what part of her it was. And my mind took it to a whole different level when I wasn’t around her, making me feel this strange ghost sensation of her soft skin against me when I was in my own bed at night. Though, really, I hadn’t spent many nights alone after sleeping over at her place that first time. And there had even been a few times in the shower. Yeah, I’d taken jacking off to the extreme. Which was weird as fuck considering the thought of even getting it up by myself before her was like torture. No, my dick had a mind of its own now. And the only thing he wanted was the one woman I probably shouldn’t have.

  But it wasn’t even that, though being naked with her was out of this world. I loved spending time with her, even when we were in clothes. I liked eating dinner with her, especially when it was something she made. I loved hearing her talk, even if it was something boring like tellin’ me about some book she was reading. And believe it or not, I liked curling up on the couch with her while we simply watched a movie. I loved the way she would run her fingers through my hair when I’d put my head in her lap. Never would have thought I’d want someone touching me so much, but I never wanted her to stop.

  She’d been in my life over three weeks now, but it felt like I’d known her forever.

  Which had me scared as hell and terrified of when it would all go to shit. And thinking way too hard about how I couldn’t really have it.

  “Sketch,” Blade grunted from the doorway of my booth. It sounded like it wasn’t the first time he’d said my name.

  “Yo?” I said as I snapped back to reality and sat up in my chair. My hand went to the pad in my lap. I sure as fuck didn’t want him to see my woman naked even if it was only a drawing of her.

  “You good?” he asked with a raised brow. His arms w
ere crossed over his chest and I knew no lie I would give him would do.

  Damn fucker. Always saw too much.

  If it weren’t for him, I never woulda been caught with Monty that day. I woulda gotten the guns back and could have made up some lie about finding them.

  But he’d noticed I had been acting weird.

  And he had followed me that day to see what the fuck I was up to.

  Alright, I wasn’t really pissed at him. Deep down, I knew I would have hated lying to my club and that might have ended up gutting me more than how that shit actually went down.

  I’d been pissed off for a long time after the whole thing with Monty, mostly at myself. I had been torn between trying to save someone that I felt this deep need to protect and making right with my club. I’d failed. Real fucking bad. But Iron hadn’t given me much shit about it and neither had Blade after he got over his initial anger of finding me with Monty. We got the guns back and in the end, Iron had spared Monty. I figured he’d done it for me but I still didn’t know why. He didn’t owe me anything. If anything, I owed him for giving me a chance when most people woulda stuck their nose up at me.

  It didn’t matter that they had both seemed to forgive and moved on. I hadn’t let myself do that.

  I looked up at Blade and jerked my chin his way. What could I say? I wasn’t good but I didn’t want to talk about it. Especially not with him. Fuck, if I wanted to talk to a brick wall, I’d just go out back.

  He shook his head and turned to leave.

  “I ain’t good enough for her,” I mumbled and hated that I’d let the words out. Could have been that I just needed to get shit off my chest.

  “Did she tell you that?” he asked flatly, not even questioning who the fuck I was talking about. He couldn’t have known, since the only other person that knew outside of me and Melissa was Tripp, and I didn’t think he was running around talkin’ about it. Then again, it was Blade, and something about him either just knew shit, or he only cared to hear what you wanted to share.

  I shook my head, my eyes down on my hand that was hiding my sketch.