by Lynn Burke
“You know he cared for the widow who lived here before us?” Devon continued with the infomercial he always took up whenever the subject of Vigil came up. “He cares for everyone in the neighborhood. Calls us all his tribe.”
His tribe. So his protective nature went beyond his Viper brotherhood. I chewed on that fact while Devon finished his cereal and I drank down the last of my coffee, ignoring the crust of my cold, buttered toast sitting on the napkin in front of me.
I hated that I looked forward to his coming over. I hated who he was on the outside.
Would his inside self be enough to sway me into allowing Devon his friendship? A huge part of me hoped for it. Another huge part of me wanted him to look at me like he had in the doorway earlier in the week.
Hunger.
Lust.
The kind that created the massive bulge I’d caught a peek of—but he’d turned away without pursuing or trying to draw attention to that fact. What asshole biker did that?
None I’d known. Even my ex’s brothers hadn’t treated others’ old ladies with respect. He’d shared me a few times too many, not that I’d had a say in the matter.
But I do now, and I won’t be used again. I won’t be hurt again, and neither will Dev.
Standing, I shoved thoughts of my ex to the back of my mind. He was part of our past—and perhaps Vigil would be a part in our future. But as my son’s friend only. I’d had my share of alpha assholes and their cocks they thought women existed to suck.
Someday I might even move on enough to touch myself to thoughts of a decent man, but that wouldn’t be any time soon.
Vigil’s arrival at the front door a few hours later definitely pushed me in the self-release direction. He wore another tight, black t-shirt that encased his hot upper body, revealing dips and valleys of muscle with every move he made. The man knew how to wear a pair of jeans, too, tight in all the right places.
Good God almighty.
Big everywhere, just like that glimpse the day before had awarded me. My heart raced and palms sweated.
“Dillon said not to bring anything, but my Auntie Jeanie taught me better,” he said, handing over a bag of chips and store-bought brownies, jerking my focus from where it had wandered. Better than the six-pack of beer I’d expected him to show up with.
“Th-thank you. Come on in.”
Caught staring … damn him.
I’d gone with my usual nondescript clothing, not wanting to snag his attention, but he still gave me that once-over while stepping past me into the living room. Tingles raced over my skin, and I fought off goosebumps and the hard nipples I wouldn’t be able to explain away from being chilly, since the damn AC could barely keep the returned heat outside at bay.
Devon came hurrying down the hallway. “Hey, Vigil!”
The two shared a bro hug, back slaps and all, and when my son pulled away, a grin of excitement and something else filled his face, something I hadn’t seen for months … hope.
My heart squeezed in my chest. Vigil brought hope into our house, and I fought its effects on my own body and mind while taking the snacks he’d brought into the kitchen. What felt like life stirred inside me for the first time in what seemed forever, every inch of me aware of the raw masculinity of him. Even from the kitchen, his voice rippled over me like a zapping live wire, setting me on edge.
With a long inhale and exhale, I fought for calm and forced myself to return to the living room and settled into the lone chair Vigil’s widow friend must have spent hours in. The damn seat sank in the middle, but it molded to my backside perfectly, worn-in and comfortable.
Vigil and Devon sat on the couch facing the TV, both laughing and bullshitting, spouting off stats and the stuff I never paid attention to. All I knew was football players wore tight pants and a lot of them ended up with concussions while trying to get goals—or whatever they called them.
I found myself smiling, unable to tear my gaze off my son as the first game started. To see him so free, so relaxed and happy... Tears hazed my vision of him, and I excused myself to the kitchen to get our lunch goodies ready.
Overwhelming thankfulness fought against my jaded heart, and I didn’t know if I should grab Vigil’s bearded face in my hands and kiss him or order him to get the hell away from our house.
Chapter Seven
Vigil
A preseason Jets game, and Michelle treated it like the Super Bowl. Dillon hadn’t been lying when he’d listed the foods she always made. The nachos? To fucking die for. The chili? Spicy as fuck and so damn good I ate two bowls piled with cheddar, fresh tomatoes, and sour cream. She even pulled out wings and some sort of gooey cheese dip for the second game and kept our glasses filled with tonic and ice.
And the chocolate chip cookies … yeah. Hanging with Dillon and his mom was going to fluff up my middle if I didn’t watch it. I felt like a goddamn king on a throne even if the widow’s old couch lay threadbare beneath my ass.
I thought back to Sundays spent with Ricky watching football. Fuck, did I miss our closeness. At least he’d been around the club the rest of the week, explaining his absence at Wednesday’s meeting due to his yearly check-up or some such shit. At least he wasn’t getting fucked up. Seemed to be making better choices.
I glanced over at Dillon to find him piling more wings onto his plate, and grinned. He didn’t know how lucky a kid he was having Michelle for a mom.
“She’s a good woman, your mom,” I told him quietly when the second game cut out to commercial and she’d left us for the kitchen for the tenth or so time since I’d arrived.
“Told you.”
He tore into another wing like a starved caveman. She must have made four dozen, and Dillon had packed away over two on his own. “Where do you put it all, Dill?”
“Damned if I know,” he replied, tossing the bone into the bowl on the stained coffee table set aside for scraps. “Wish it went straight to muscle.”
“You’ll get there. Keep lifting those weights.”
“Plan on it—unless you’re sick of seeing me over there every day.”
I huffed a snort. “Nope. You’re good company.”
He grinned, and I rubbed a hand over my chest as that damn ache returned. “I’m proud to call your old ass my friend, Vigil.”
We laughed as I elbowed him. “Don’t let your mom hear you talk like that, or she’ll kick my outlaw ass to the curb before you can blink.”
“Nah. I cussed before I met you, so you’re good. She grumbles a lot but doesn’t have real teeth to back those threats up.”
I wondered—and secretly hoped she did have a set of sharp teeth on her.
Needing to take a piss, I left him alone for a few, meandering into the kitchen on my way back from the bathroom when I saw Michelle hadn’t returned to the living room.
She stood at the sink washing up some dishes, her long t-shirt hiding the top of her ass, her frumpy shorts hiding the rest. Didn’t keep me from sporting a chub, though.
I must have made some sort of noise, because she glanced over her shoulder, catching me checking her out. “Everything okay?”
“Better than okay,” I replied, moving into the kitchen and leaning against the counter beside her, my arms crossed. “Thanks for inviting me over. It’s nice to get a taste of normalcy for a change. Definitely don’t get that at the club or in my empty house.”
“We’re hardly normal,” she said under her breath, focusing on the sudsy water she submerged both hands in while scrubbing away at a pan.
“But you’re attempting it for his sake. That’s what’s important.”
She shifted her head to peer up at me, her gaze searching, probably wondering what all I knew about their secret past—which was next to nothing.
Eyes so dark they almost swallowed her pupils … I’d never seen their likes. Hoping for a flash of sass, I smirked and dropped my attention to her lips for a second or two,
just long enough to stiffen her entire body.
“Don’t.”
I slowly slid my gaze upward to meet her narrowed eyes. “What?”
“Look at me like that.” She all but hissed the words, fire lighting in her dark orbs.
My grin widened and my dick swelled, ready for a little fun. “How’s that?”
“Like you want nothing more than to order me to my knees to suck your dick.”
Fuck. Me. I didn’t bother holding back my groan. “You’ve got one hell of a mouth on you, wildcat.”
She glared.
“Goddamn.” I adjusted my swelling length, cursing myself for agreeing to not hit on her. “You talk like that and a man’s mind starts to wander.”
Michelle snorted and returned to her dishes. “As if it wasn’t wandering before. You’re a biker who has club whores at his beck and call ready to drop to their knees at the slightest hint of command.”
“How do you know so much about biker clubs?”
She clamped her lips shut.
Quite a bit, I’m guessing. “Tell you what. I promise to never order you to your knees to suck my dick even when I’m dying to,” I said, jerking her focus back up at me when she didn’t reply. “Deal?”
Red flushed her face. “I wouldn’t even if you did.”
“Hmm.” I leaned back to get a better look at her body, taking my time since we’d already crossed a line of sorts—even though our banter wasn’t the hitting on she said wasn’t allowed. “Your hard nipples beg to differ.”
“Stop looking at my breasts,” she whispered harshly, yanking up the strainer from the sink.
“Can’t help it. Haven’t seen that lush an eyeful in—”
A pile of suds splattered in my face before I could blink. “Ow!” I laughed, swiping my forearm across my face. “That fucking burns!”
“Told you to quit looking,” she grumbled, pressing a towel into my hand. “Figured you might scare off like a cat if I flicked water at you. Works on De—Dillon.”
“Girl, that kind of sass only makes my dick harder,” I said, making note of her near slip up while wiping the towel across my eyes. I leaned down close to her face.
Her pupils widened along with the part of her lips, and for the first time, I got a good whiff of her clean scent. All woman and clothes detergent. No flowery perfumes or cloying scents meant to lure a man in.
No, Michelle didn’t need that shit. Even her lack of makeup and short, unpainted finger nails appealed to me.
“Dillon says you hiss but don’t claw.” I tossed the towel aside.
She glared but didn’t respond—or back down.
“I love a little wildcat who won’t easily bend. Turns me the fuck on, Michelle.” When she didn’t scoot away, I stepped in closer, trapping her against the counter with my hands on either side of her, but keeping from touching her curves in any way.
She flinched on a gasp—and not the needy kind—giving me another tell into her past. Her chest rose quickly with inhales, the pulse thrumming in her neck like mad. Pink, full lips parted, pupils wide … fucking goosebumps rose along the arms she wrapped around herself. “Thought we had a deal.” Her husky, snippy as fuck voice oozed pre-cum from my dick, but I held in my groan.
No denying her body wanted me, but I wasn’t an asshole who would take what she wouldn’t willingly offer, especially with what her flinch had told me.
Dillon’s mom had been on the receiving end of the sort of shit that boiled my blood to the point of spilling another’s.
Forcing that shit from my head, I licked my lower lip real fucking slow and smirked when her breath caught. Stepping out of her space, I picked a cookie up off the plate on the table and shoved it in my mouth. A wink, an adjustment to my throbbing, leaking dick, and I left her alone.
Chapter Eight
Mila
Fucking asshole.
I’d said no hitting on me, and while he might not consider tossing out crass compliments as such, I sure as hell did. My pissiness wasn’t only from that fact. Spatting with him heightened that life simmering inside me, and I felt alive. And the fact he was amused by my snippiness rather than angry...
It took another hour before the annoyance radiating through me eased enough for me to relax. Twinges of need still zapped at me whenever our eyes met, but I narrowed my gaze every time until he turned away with a chuckle. Obviously pissiness wasn’t going to rid me of his attention. I decided to go with indifference since that wouldn’t “make his cock hard.”
I’d gotten a close up eyeful of said cock inside his tight jeans as he’d stepped away from me in the kitchen, leaving me a soaked, trembling mess. The man was packing, and I hated the curiosity that lit me up from head to toes. Desire to drop to my knees, unzip those jeans, and find out for myself exactly what he hid in there raced my heart and made my mouth water for a taste.
Butterflies plagued me, and I told myself I hated it. Jitters swept through me whenever I felt his gaze on the side of my face. My disinterest didn’t keep him from looking, but if he caught me doing the same, I simply looked away, faking the deadpan face that didn’t match the wild havoc inside me.
Devon bonded with Vigil over the second game, both rooting for a team they could agree on. Pittsburgh Steelers. Other than gold and black uniforms, I didn’t know jack shit about the team. The two of them talked about the players, some first and last names as though they shared childhood memories of the guys.
Vigil treated my son like a man. Called him by name, even if it wasn’t his real one, never once calling him kid or punk like my ex had always done.
I might have been quick to judge Vigil, because other than the whole flirting in the kitchen episode, he didn’t come across as a biker the entire afternoon. He also kept his cursing to a minimum, surprisingly. Didn’t make another pass at me whenever I slipped into the kitchen for a break from the crackling tension between us, either.
When the game ended, Vigil clasped Devon’s hand. “See you tomorrow, Dill?”
Devon shot a glance my way as I stood from the chair. I nodded, hating to give my consent, but not having evidence enough to forbid their friendship. “Mom’s gonna give me the calories so you can show me how to put the muscle on.”
Vigil ruffled his hair and laughed, sending a rush beyond longing through me. My throat thickened as Devon grinned up at him.
“You pack away food like you did today,” Vigil said with a grin, his steel-like eyes warm, “and we’ll have you filled out and rushing through defensive lines like a damn steamroller by next season.”
He turned his intuitive eyes on me, his smirk still in place. “Thanks again for the invite.”
“Anytime,” I tossed out on auto pilot, and immediately snapped my mouth shut, silently cursing myself and wishing I could take it back.
His lips spread wider within his soft-looking beard, and I fisted my hands at my sides. “Gonna take you up on that, wildcat.”
I forgot about indifference and glared, and he chuckled while turning to walk out the door.
Devon flopped back on the couch, and I found myself following Vigil outside.
“Hey,” I called to him, shutting the door quietly behind me. He hadn’t yet reached the corner of the house, and turned to face me. The streetlight lit the side of his face, but I couldn’t make out his expression in the warm, quiet night around us. “Thanks for investing in my son. It hasn’t been an easy transition, and it’s good for him to have a friend.”
“What about you, Michelle?” he asked, his low voice pebbling my nipples. “Do you need a friend?”
“What I want doesn’t matter.”
His gaze narrowed a bit. “That doesn’t answer my question.”
I studied him for a few seconds before coming up with a decent enough reply. “I don’t need the kind of friend that compliments my tits, no.”
“Can I point out your other fine features
like your fine as fuck ass?”
Of course he would go there, the asshole. I crossed my arms and frowned, expecting he could see my face clearly in the outside light shining above the stoop. “I’d prefer if you didn’t.”
“Because you already know how hot you are or because you question that fact?”
“Because compliments aren’t going to get your hands inside my pants,” I snipped.
“What if you’re wearing a skirt?”
I rolled my eyes, but couldn’t bite back my smirk fast enough. Goddamn the man for making me like him. “I’m not going there, Vigil.”