Dare to Stay

by Jen McLaughlin

  “Take me home?” she whispered.

  “Gladly.”

  I captured her hand and walked with her to her car. She smiled up at me, running her thumb over the backs of my knuckles. “We’re really going to do this.”

  “Yep.” I smiled. “Regrets already? It’s too late. You said you loved me, and I said it, too, and I’m not going to let you forget that.”

  “No. No regrets.”

  I actually believed her. “There’s something you should know, though.”

  “What?”

  I unlocked the car and walked to her door, opening it for her. “Scotty offered me an out. He said he could kill me off and I could start over again.”

  She froze halfway into the car. “What? He did?”

  “Yeah.” I held a hand up when she opened her mouth. “But I said no.”

  “Why?” she asked, frowning.

  “I want to stay, to help clean up the city. I want to help make up for the stuff I did.” I leaned in the open door of the car, hoping she’d understand. “I have to play the part of a gang member and do bad things to keep my cover. But I’m not that guy anymore. I changed, and that’s because of you. Of what you did for me. And I want to help Scotty in his mission to clean up the streets of Steel Row.”

  She swallowed hard and reached up, running her fingers over my cheek. “Then you’ll have to do it. I love you for who you are, and if it’s important to you, it’s important to me, too. Let’s clean up Steel Row.”

  Leaning in, I kissed her, unable to help myself. And if we hadn’t been in the parking lot of a police station, I wouldn’t have stopped there. I’d have her naked, in my arms, screaming my name for all to hear—because she loved me.

  When I finally pulled back, she held on to my shirt, not letting go.

  “Can you promise me one thing?” she asked breathily.

  I swallowed hard. “What?”

  “Can we go home, close the door, and not get shot at for twenty-four hours?”

  I laughed. “Yeah. I think I can promise you that. Tate said I don’t have to come in until tomorrow morning.”

  “Thank God.” She drifted her hand down my chest, tugging on the waist of my jeans. “Because the things I need from you . . . they’re going to require some peace and quiet.”

  “Oh yeah? And what are these things?”

  “You. Me.” Her hand dipped lower, and she cupped my hard cock, squeezing with just enough pressure to make my eyes roll back in my head. “And a bed.”

  “Just a bed?” I kissed the side of her neck and teased the curves of her cleavage with my fingertips. “Not a wall? Or a shower? Or the floor?”

  She let out a breathy moan. “My terms are negotiable.”

  “Good.” I nipped the skin right over her racing pulse. “Because I plan on making love to you in every room of that house, in every way possible, till you’re too weak to stand. And I’m going to take you one more time, in your bed, so you can fall asleep in my arms. And I won’t let you go.”

  She swallowed so hard I heard it. “Well, what are we waiting for? Take me home, Chris.”

  “Gladly.” I slid my hand between her legs, pressing up against her clit. “But first . . . ?”

  “Hmm?” she asked, her lids dipping down and her breath hitching in her throat.

  “I need to do something for you.” I traced the curve of her inner thigh. “Open your legs for me, Princess.”

  “Now?” she asked, her nostrils flaring. “Here?”

  “I’ll be quick. Less than thirty seconds. No one will ever know.” I urged her thighs apart, locking eyes with her as my fingers dipped under her dress and inside her panties. The second I touched her hot pussy, I thrust my fingers inside of her, because she was already wet for me, pressing my thumb against her clit. “I promise.”

  She moaned and spread her legs more, her cheeks flushing. I pulled my fingers out and thrust them back in, hitting the spot guaranteed to drive her crazy. “Chris.”

  I moved my hand in between her thighs, still leaning in the car as if we were having a conversation. She bit down on her lip, her cheeks coloring more with each thrust of my fingers. When her pussy tightened around me and her breaths came faster and she cried out, muffling the sound with her hand, I grinned with satisfaction.

  True to my word, I’d gotten her off in less than thirty seconds.

  She collapsed against the seat, gripping my hand that was still between her thighs. “God, I love you.”

  “And I love you.” I leaned in and said, “But just so you know, that orgasm you just felt?” I rolled my thumb over her clit, and she tensed. “The pressure building in your stomach even now, after I already made you come? That’s mine. And I plan to collect more of those the second I have you home. I’m going to strip you naked, drop to my knees, and taste your sweet pussy. And I won’t stop till you come so many times you forget your name.”

  “Now, that’s a promise I can handle,” she murmured, smiling.

  I kissed her . . .

  And the world felt right again.

  EPILOGUE

  CHRIS

  Three months later

  I juggled the keys, my phone, and a bottle of wine, trying to open the garage door to my and Molly’s new home. We’d moved in a little over a month ago. Being next to my father didn’t work so well when I was trying my best to avoid him and all the shit he brought with him. We’d made a new start here.

  A good one.

  Scotty and I were still doing our thing over in Steel Row, and we’d even managed to bring down a few rival gang members. After the attack on me, and Reggie’s death, both sides had sort of cooled their heels. An eye for an eye left everyone satisfied—for now. It didn’t change the fact that we were still locked in a heated war with Bitter Hill, and it was far from over, but we were on the winning side.

  And I was still alive.

  So there was that.

  My youth community center was moving along nicely, and it was only a matter of time until I was actually making a difference in this shitty little city. Of course, no one could know, because I’d be a dead man, but still. It was something.

  I finally managed to get the door open, kicking it shut behind me and locking it. I entered the code to the security system, the code only Molly and I knew, and flipped the kitchen light on. “Princess? I’m home.”

  No answer came back.

  Her car had been in the garage, so she was here.

  “Molly?” I yelled out, setting the wine down. “Answer me!”

  Still nothing.

  Buttons came into the kitchen, sitting and staring at me. He didn’t have blood on his paws or look as if he was upset—but she wasn’t answering me.

  I pulled my gun out of my holster and stalked through the kitchen, my heart pounding and my stomach churning. If something had happened to her—

  Hell, I wouldn’t be around much longer.

  I refused to live without my Molly.

  Halfway through the living room, I froze. Molly had ordered an old-fashioned fainting couch the other day, and I’d rolled my eyes but helped her pick out a pretty print, anyway. If Molly wanted something, she’d damn well get it. Anything.

  But if I’d known what she planned for it?

  I would have bought twelve.

  Swallowing hard, I lowered my gun. “You didn’t answer me.”

  “I know.” She lifted a naked leg, uncrossed it, and let it drape over the side of the chair. “I wanted to surprise you.”

  I laid the gun on the table and shrugged out of my jacket, gaping at all that naked skin and her perfect body sprawled across the beige chair. “Well, consider me surprised. To what do I owe this honor?”

  “Remember when I made you watch Titanic last week?” She pulled on a piece of hair and glanced at me through her lashes. “And I tol
d you how much the scene with Jack drawing Rose turned me on?”

  My heart pounded so hard it was a miracle it didn’t jump out of my chest and splatter on the hardwood floor. I started unbuttoning my shirt. If she was naked, it was only fair I be, too. Equality in the home, and all that shit. Her hair played peekaboo with her hard, pink nipples. She was deliciously, gloriously naked—and I couldn’t take my eyes off her.

  “Yeah. And I told you it made me horny as hell, too.” I smirked. “And I showed you just how horny it made me.”

  “Mm-hmm.” She bit down on her lip, staring at me mischievously. “Look behind you.”

  “I’d rather look in front of me.” I unbuttoned my shirt and shrugged it off, letting it fall to the floor. “Actually, I’d like to do more than look. I want to touch.”

  She held up a finger and wagged it. “You will. But not yet. Turn around.”

  “Princess. You’re killing me.” Impatiently, I did as I was told. “What is—?” Reaching down, I picked up the heart necklace, letting the chain dangle between my fingers. They itched with the need to touch her, but even more strongly with the need to draw her. “Does this mean what I think it does?”

  Her grin widened. “I want you to draw me wearing nothing but this.”

  “Fuck yeah.” I swallowed hard, and it felt like a box of nails went down my throat. Stalking across the room, I knelt beside her. “Let me set you up properly first.”

  She stared at me—all hazel eyes, creamy skin, and long brown hair with a hint of pink nipples. “Anything you say, sir. I’m all yours.”

  “Don’t say that,” I growled, drifting my hands over her bare shoulders. Her smooth skin was like silk under my rough fingers. “You’ll never get drawn if you tease me like that.”

  “I’m all yours, however you want me.” She shrugged. “Whatever you want.”

  “I want this.” I skimmed my knuckles over her nipples, watching them pull in and tighten, and tugged on her hair ever so slightly. “All of this.”

  Her breathing increased. “It’s yours.”

  “I know. But first?” I leaned in and kissed her, pulling back after a few seconds. “I want to draw you. All of you.”

  Her tits rose and fell rapidly, and she nodded. “Put me where you want me.”

  All sorts of images—the most prominent one being her bent over, holding the couch, so I could draw her from behind—flashed through my mind. But there was one pose she’d like the best, and I wanted to make her happy, so I went with that.

  I draped the necklace over her neck and pushed her back so she reclined against the cushions. Working from the memory of a movie I had only half paid attention to, I made it so she lay just like the actress in the movie had, complete with nipples peeking out of her long hair. I positioned the necklace between her breasts, raised her hand over her head, and nodded, satisfied with my handiwork.

  “Fucking gorgeous.” When I stepped back, all of my blood rushed south, hardening my cock, and I stared. She looked just like the actress in the movie, only a million times prettier. “Don’t move.”

  Her lips twitched. “I won’t. But I expect to be duly rewarded when this is over.”

  I pulled up a chair, grabbed the drawing pencils she’d placed on the table, flipped open the pad, and stared at her for another second. “Oh, you will. Now shut up and let me work.”

  A small laugh escaped her, but she lay still, not moving so much as a muscle. I let my fingers take over, closing my mind off to everything but her and the paper in front of me. I started with her face, sketching out each line with perfect memory, not even needing to look at her. I’d drawn her hundreds of times by now.

  But when I got to her tits and her thin waist, it took a hell of a lot more concentration to keep on going and not toss the book aside to take up a more personal approach to appreciating the artwork that was her body. My hands flew over the paper, and she watched me the whole time, her eyes glowing with love and desire.

  It was a combination I’d never get enough of.

  As I rounded out the pink buds of her nipples, the last finishing touch to my drawing, I slammed it on the table, stood, and undid my pants. “Done.”

  She bit her lip, still not moving. “I want to see it.”

  “You will. I plan on hanging that fucker in our bedroom.” I let my jeans hit the floor, and I lay on top of her, settling between her legs, where I belonged. “But first? I need to touch you. Kiss you. Love you.”

  “God, yes.” She curled her legs around my waist and her arms around my neck, threading her fingers into my hair and grabbing hold. “Now.”

  Nodding, I melded my lips to hers, and I thrust inside of her, not bothering with foreplay. Her warm, wet pussy claimed me, like it always did, and I groaned into her mouth. She was so fucking wet, and so tight, that I was close to coming already.

  Each stroke of the pencil, each lingering gaze, had been like me stroking her skin. I’d seen her desire building with each passing moment, with each ragged breath, and mine was out of control at this point. Pulling out of her, I slammed back in, angling my hips. She dug her nails into my scalp and cried out, coming. I swallowed her cries, thrusting into her with a wild abandon only she brought out in me.

  She was with me for every stroke, and when her pussy clamped down on my cock and she screamed out my name in pleasure, I was right there with her.

  Holding her.

  “Chris.” She tightened her hold on me, kissing my shoulder. “I love you so much.”

  “I love you, too.” I reared back, meeting her eyes. “I never thought I deserved this, and I still don’t, but every day, I fall more and more in love with you. You are my life. My love. My heart. And I thank God every day—even though I don’t believe in him—that you found me in that alley.”

  She gave me an emotional smile and smoothed her hands through my hair. “Me, too, Chris. Me, too.”

  Tugging me down by my hair, she kissed me, and I started moving inside of her again. Once wasn’t enough with her. It would never be enough. Not with how much I loved her. Part of me was ninety-nine percent certain she would never understand exactly how much she meant to me. How much I loved her. What I would do for her.

  She was my heart, my body, and my soul . . .

  And she completed me.

  Read on for a sneak peek at the next heart-pounding novel in New York Times bestselling author Jen McLaughlin’s Sons of Steel Row series,

  DARE TO LIE

  Available from Berkley Sensation in February 2017.

  CHAPTER 1

  SCOTTY

  A bullet flew by my ear with a soft whizzing sound, sounding deceptively softer than its hollow-point reality, which would rip through flesh without mercy. I squeezed the trigger of my gun as sweat rolled down into my eyes and watched a Bitter Hill asshole fall to the ground, clutching his chest, blood bubbling out of his mouth as he breathed his last gurgling breath due to my bullet.

  Shit.

  That was going to be a lot of paperwork.

  The Bitter Hill men had come at us when no one had their pistols drawn, giving them an advantage against us—one that hadn’t lasted long. Chris O’Brien, the only other man on this side of the law who knew my secret, moved to my side, squeezing off shots without even a sign of hesitation. “You okay, Scotty?”

  I nodded once, wiping my forearm over my forehead, and scanned the alley for more of the assholes. “Where the hell did these fuckers come from?”

  Another one came around the corner, and Chris and I simultaneously fired. Mine hit him in the chest directly over the heart. Chris’s was dead center in the forehead. He liked head shots and was one of the only men I knew who could consistently nail them. Blood sprayed behind the man and he was dead before he hit the ground.

  “I don’t know,” Chris shouted back, his eyes locked on the opening of the alley where they’d c
ornered us, just like mine. We’d come a long way, me and Chris. If someone had told me he would try to kill my brother, but then we’d become closer because he failed, I would’ve laughed in his face—or shot him.

  “But they picked the wrong day to attack. Tate’s pissed as hell.”

  I looked over my shoulder, eyeing the man in charge of the Sons of Steel Row. Tate looked seconds from pulling a grenade launcher out from behind his back and going all kamikaze on the Bitter Hill scum who dared to attack us when we were on our way to a funeral for one of our older members, Gus. May the fucker not rest in peace.

  He didn’t deserve it.

  The Sons was the most influential gang in Southie, and up until recently, that title had gone undisputed. But then my “dead” brother, Lucas, started a war with Bitter Hill over a chick he was into and everything had gone to shit afterward.

  Now, we were waging a full-fledged war with Bitter Hill . . .

  One we just might lose, if we didn’t play our cards right.

  A bullet hit the wall next to my head with a poof of brick dust, and Chris growled angrily, squeezing his trigger in rapid succession at the fucker who’d tried to take me out. I couldn’t get a shot on him since he was out of my line of fire. A groan sounded to the left of us as one of our men went down, taking a hit to the shoulder. Next went Roger, staggering back and clutching his arm. Cursing, I tried to find the shooter—and finally did. He was coming around the corner, aiming for Chris . . . who had just fired his last bullet.

  Luckily, it had taken the other guy down.

  Biting back a curse, I aimed and took the second shooter out before he could take out my friend, shooting directly over Chris’s shoulder. For a second, he looked like he thought I’d been aiming for him. He was the only other man who knew I wasn’t just another street thug, but was in reality in the DEA. Maybe he thought I was trying to kill the only man who could blow my cover. Not that I would do that, but I could understand the logic.

  The man I shot fell to the ground, convulsing as he, too, died. My aim had been true.