by Leah Brooke
Dillon allowed a smile. “Undoubtedly. I know it would make me feel better. You never know. We still may get a chance. In the meantime, I’m going to go talk to Linc and see what’s on the video. Erin saw the whole thing. I want to talk to her. After that, we need to talk to whoever the hell’s prosecuting this case and see about getting a lawyer for Alison.”
Ryder, in the middle of taking another sip of beer, swallowed hurriedly and set the bottle aside. “Do you really think she’ll need one?”
Shrugging, Dillon moved to the back door. “I don’t know, but it couldn’t hurt. I want to make sure we have all the cards we need to win this hand. If she wakes up, tell her to call the prosecutor and give him our numbers so he can contact her here. I want to know everything that’s going on.”
Dillon headed down the steps, his head swimming with thoughts of Alison, pausing when Ryder called down to him from the top.
Gripping the rail, Ryder appeared really shaken.
“Dillon, if they believed she attacked him with a knife, she just might end up in jail.”
Dillon nodded and turned away. “We’re just going to have to make sure that doesn’t happen.”
Chapter Thirteen
“Well, I finished up the last of the filing. I don’t know how either one of you ever found anything in that mess.”
Smiling, she started to wash out the coffeepot and straighten up the small table she’d commandeered to keep the coffeemaker and the supplies.
Dillon watched her like a hawk as he locked up, so much so that she could almost hear the lecture forming in his mind. Once he’d finished, he went to wash his hands and arms in the huge sink on the far wall, eyeing her critically as he soaped himself.
Watching him scrub the grease from his arms and hands proved to be no hardship. Something about the way soap and water looked streaming off of his muscles just fascinated her every time.
Her hands itched to touch the slippery soap covering his arms, each swipe of his hand over them making his muscles bunch and flex, tantalizing her as always. Circling him to get to the door, she eyed the way his jeans hugged his gorgeous ass as he stood bent over the sink, her imagination running wild with visions of the night ahead.
She couldn’t take her eyes from him as she moved to his other side, aware that his own gaze followed her, eyeing her in much the same way she eyed him.
Lifting her gaze to his, she inwardly cursed.
Damn it. His eyes had darkened with concern, not the need she wanted to see in them.
Dillon smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes.
“Look at you. I can’t believe you didn’t even get a shiner. We’ll stay in tonight. I’ll have Ryder pick up something to eat. You’re sore, and you didn’t eat enough for lunch.” He kept his tone low, intimate even, but the ever-present hint of steel came through loud and clear, telling her the subject was closed for discussion.
Gritting her teeth, she threw on her jacket, grabbed her purse, and slung it over her shoulder. Striding toward the back door with the intention of going upstairs, she avoided his eyes, scared he would see more than she wanted him to.
“I’m fine, Dillon. Don’t try to baby me. I’m a woman. I’m not a fucking invalid. If you two are just going to sit at home, maybe I’ll go to the bar.”
“Excuse me?”
Ignoring him, she flung open the door and went outside, coming face-to-face with Ryder.
Fresh from the shower, he’d combed his still-damp hair back, but she knew that as soon as it dried, it would be like silk through her fingers. Even though the jacket he wore covered his tattoos, the wildness inside him couldn’t be contained.
It shone in his eyes.
Glittering green eyes that held promise and the knowledge that he could make every one of her erotic fantasies a reality.
God, she wanted him. She wanted both of them with a hunger that seemed to grow every day.
His eyes raked her body as he strolled toward her, his long-legged stride drawing attention to his slim hips and the fascinating bulge between them.
She’d spent the entire day thinking about tonight, and with Dillon treating her like she was injured, it didn’t look like she would be getting any satisfaction from him.
Ryder would give it to her.
Running toward him, she jumped and threw herself in his arms, confident that he’d catch her. When he did, she wrapped her legs around his waist and rubbed herself against him. Threading her hands in his hair, she closed her teeth on his earlobe, inwardly smiling when he shuddered and tightened his hand holding her ass.
“Ryder, I’m horny. Let’s go upstairs.”
He stilled, clearly surprised, but it didn’t last. Leaning back, he met her eyes and smiled while sliding a hand under her sweater to cup her breast. “I’m glad you don’t wear a bra. I’ve been looking forward to getting my hands on you all day. And my mouth. I’m stopping at Beau’s and buying a bigger butt plug for you. When I get back, I’m gonna slide it right up that cute ass and bury my face in your pussy.”
With arms and legs, she gripped him tighter, caught up in a wave of longing that dampened her panties and made her stomach tighten. Using her legs, she rubbed her slit against him, moaning softly as his hand moved over her breast and he bent to touch his lips to hers.
He swallowed her moan, his mouth moving over hers in the demanding way she’d come to love so much. His hand slid lower, pressing against her bottom between her cheeks, so close to her forbidden opening, she whimpered and wiggled against him. Holding her in place, he ravaged her mouth, his kiss unlike any she’d ever experienced as he worked his strong fingers at her slit, wakening every nerve ending along the way.
Alison’s legs shook, and she had to hold on to him for support, a whimper escaping when he closed his fingers over her nipple and tugged gently.
When he lifted his head to stare down at her, she nearly melted at the passion swirling in his eyes. The promise behind it was unmistakable, telling her without words that he could satisfy every hunger he stirred to life with incredible ease.
How could any woman resist such confidence in a man or his determination to give her pleasure?
She wanted nothing more than to open herself completely to him, put herself entirely in his hands, and let him take her on a journey she knew she would never forget.
“Ryder. Oh, God, what are you doing to me?” Fisting her hand in his leather jacket, she tightened her legs around him, cursing the fact that their clothes kept her from feeling his bare skin on hers. “Teach me. Teach me how to please you. I want to make you want me as much as I want you.”
His hooded gaze just made him appear more dangerous. Tugging her nipple once more, he slid his hand free and up to circle her neck, the danger and wildness surrounding him only making her want him more.
“I already want you so much I can’t sleep. I watch you sleep and want to stick my cock inside you and fill you all night long. I fantasize about all the things I want to do to you, and it keeps me hard all fucking day. When I get back, I’m gonna show you what I was thinking about today.”
Alison rained kisses over his jaw, breathing in his fresh, clean scent. “I can’t wait. Hurry back. No, better yet, don’t go. Dillon doesn’t want me. He’s treating me like a baby. You want me. Let him go run your errands.”
“She’s sore, Ryder. She needs a rubdown. Pick up some oil from Jesse while you’re out. Tell her you want the peach stuff she sent before.”
Stiffening, Alison slowly turned in Ryder’s arms, eyeing Dillon over her shoulder. She appreciated his tenderness when she was hurting, but damn it, there were times when a woman just wanted her man to see her as a desirable woman.
It pissed her off that right now he didn’t, and she couldn’t let him get away with it.
“Kiss my ass. I’m fucking Ryder. He wants me. You can watch if you want to.”
Ryder’s brows went up. “You really want to lead with that temper? If so, I’m gonna stick around so I can watch Dillon pad
“He keeps threatening that, but he’ll never do it. He’s too scared of hurting me even when I tell him I feel fine. He wants a doll, not a woman. Hey, does that store you’re talking about sell blow-up dolls? We can get one for Dillon to fuck while you’re taking me.”
Dillon took her hand and pulled her with his usual tenderness out of Ryder’s arms, scaring her just a little because he showed no emotion at all. Bending, he lifted her, gathering her against his chest.
“In Desire, when a woman issues a challenge like that, her men are obligated, and more than willing, to take her up on it, something I’m sure you’ll become well used to.”
Ryder slid his hand under her sweater again and cupped a breast. “You’re trying to goad us into losing our tempers. That’s another form of control, Ally. You’re testing us. Trying to see how far you can push. Be prepared, darlin’. When you reach the limit, you’re gonna get a spankin’ you’ll never forget.”
Alison sucked in a breath, realizing the truth of his words. She hadn’t even realized she’d been testing them, trying to provoke them into losing their tempers. Knowing she didn’t have a future with them, and scared of getting too close, she’d been subconsciously pushing them away.
Ryder ran a hand over her hair. “Go with Dillon. He knows how to make you feel better.”
Recognizing the defeat in his tone, she reached for him, but he’d already walked away. Staring after him, she promised that as soon as he got back, she’d get to the bottom of whatever the hell was bothering him.
After what they’d already done for her, she owed him that. Even more, though, she found she couldn’t stand to see him hurting.
Dillon turned her toward the stairs. “You’re sore, Alison, otherwise I’d turn you over my knee right now. You’re going to go upstairs and lie down until Ryder gets home.”
Pushing at his chest, she struggled to get down, but he only cursed and tightened his hold on her and started up the wooden stairs.
“Damn it, Dillon. I’m tired of being told what to do. First by Danny and now by you. Why do men think that just because they fuck you, they have the right to boss you around? Put me down, damn it!”
Ignoring her struggles with an ease that both irritated and impressed her, he kept climbing the stairs. “No. Stop struggling before you fall.”
As soon as they entered the small apartment, Dillon set her on her feet. “Go take a shower. Just put on your robe when you’re done so I can give you a rubdown.”
She appreciated that he cared when her back bothered her, but his annoying habit of ignoring her claims that she felt fine would be something they’d have to work on.
Resigned to the fact that he wouldn’t be taking her anytime soon, she turned away and started toward the bedroom, only to have Dillon grip her arm to stop her. Wrapping an arm around her from behind, he bent low, sending a shiver through her when he nipped her earlobe.
“I’m not Danny. Don’t ever compare me to him again.”
The icy coldness of his tone hit her like a brisk wind, sending a chill through her entire body and leaving her frozen in place.
Sliding his hands up to cover her breasts, he ran his lips over her neck. “As soon as I take my shower, Ryder should be back with the food. After we eat, I’ll give you a rubdown.”
* * * *
Dillon had purposely gentled his tone, not wanting to scare her any more than he already had. In time, she would trust that he wouldn’t hurt her, and her wariness would diminish.
Hiding a smile at the thought of the things he wanted to do to her, he cuddled her closer. He wanted to have the ability to make her nervous when the situation called for it, knowing her trepidation would heighten her senses and make punishing her that much more enjoyable for both of them.
Comparing him to her ex-boyfriend had him seeing red, and it had taken a hell of a lot of willpower not to turn her over his knee and redden that irresistible round ass of hers.
Reminding himself that she was sore and very fragile, he patted the rounded softness now and sent her on her way to the shower, barely restraining the urge to join her.
Once he heard the shower running, he started to gather a clean change of clothes and paused, standing in the middle of the room. Closing his eyes, he imagined the scented bubbles from the stuff Jesse had given her running down her body.
He knew Alison thought she was fat. Hell, most women did. He also knew that after being on the receiving end of criticism about her weight, she wouldn’t believe how sexy and fascinating he found her lush curves.
Telling her wouldn’t do any good. He would have to show her, but he’d be damned if he’d take advantage of her when she was sore.
Fisting his hands at his sides, he tried to convince his cock to behave itself but didn’t have much luck. Hell, he wanted her.
Badly.
All the fucking time.
He was a grown man, for God’s sake, and he spent most of his time either remembering what it felt like to be inside her or planning the next time.
Fate must have been having a good laugh at his expense.
His entire adult life had been spent suppressing his possessive instincts, which had become easier to do when he and Ryder had started sharing women. He’d been raised by a frail mother and learned early in life that, although women had an inner strength that never failed to astound him, they needed to be cared for and protected.
Sharing with Ryder had made it easier to fight the possessiveness. Sex was sex. He took it when he wanted with women who wanted nothing more than fun and pleasure.
He knew Ryder appreciated not having the sole responsibility of day to day problems in a relationship, more interested in pleasure than having to show up on time for dates or, God forbid, listening to a woman ask him about his feelings.
He loved that together they could drive a woman wild, and women who received that kind of pleasure usually came back begging for more.
Through it all, though, they’d never had a woman who belonged to them. They’d never met anyone they could see in that role.
Until now.
Thinking about the sorts of problems they would have to deal with if they lived anywhere else, he appreciated the town he lived in more than ever.
They’d learned of Desire, Oklahoma, through a chance click on the Internet and had been curious enough to come for a visit.
Dillon, intrigued by the old-fashioned values regarding the way men here treated their women, decided to move here almost immediately. He loved that women were protected by each and every man in town and had enjoyed looking out for them.
It added a sense of community he’d never experienced before, one he embraced with an enthusiasm that had surprised him.
Ryder loved the fact that they could live the way they wanted openly, and within a month they’d bought this property and opened their own garage.
They’d lived here a little over eight years and had no desire to ever leave.
The women at the club provided enough enjoyment that they’d both been happy. He could take advantage of the fantasies of the women there to release some of the need to completely dominate a woman, to possess her, if even for a short time.
Ryder could indulge in his wildest fantasies, spurred on by women who wanted everything he had to offer.
They lived the best of both worlds, and it had been enough for a while.
Until he’d started yearning for a woman of their own.
Hearing a sound coming from the bathroom, Dillon automatically turned, smiling when he realized Alison was singing.
Now he had one, as soon as he could convince her. He winced when she hit a high note, grinning.
She probably had the worst singing voice he’d ever heard, but the happiness in it loosened some of the knots inside him.
He heard a bump and the sound of the bottle hitting the floor and started to rush in there, pausing when she cursed under her breath and started singing again.
To hell with it. He was going in.
He knocked, but didn’t give her the chance to answer before barging through the door, his cock leading the way.
“Alison, are you all right?”
He could see only the faint outline of her body through the shower curtain and promised himself that as soon as possible, he would buy a clear one. His hands itched to run over her sleek, wet body, and hold her slippery form against him.
Remembering his promise of a massage, he smiled in anticipation. He couldn’t wait to get his hands on her nakedness again.
To his regret, Alison stopped singing.
His cock jumped to attention when she pulled the curtain aside and gave him a glimpse of wet shoulder as she poked her head out.
“Dillon! How’d you get in here? I locked the door.”
Without meaning to, he took a step closer, breathing in the tantalizing scent of peaches and biting back a groan when his cock demanded attention.
“Lock’s broken.”
Inwardly wincing at the low growl in his voice, he automatically searched her features for any kind of fear or anger, stilling when he found desire instead.
She pushed her slick hair back and grinned. Still holding the plastic curtain, she straightened, inadvertently giving him a glimpse of wet thigh.
“You’re a mechanic. You can’t fix it?”
His cock jumped beneath her gaze, lengthening as though reaching out for her. Through the curtain, he could just make out the dark hair covering her mound, an enticing shadow that had him taking another step closer.
“No point. I work on cars, not bathroom doors. Are you all right? I heard a noise.”
Hell, he’d been with a lot of women over the years, fucking them in the club with and without an audience, and here he was standing in his own bathroom sneaking glances of a wet woman through a shower curtain and fighting not to whip the shower curtain away and take what he wanted.
Fuck. She was probably in pain, despite her insistence that she wasn’t, but he couldn’t stop thinking about getting inside her.
Disgusted with himself, he clenched his jaw. “Are you hurt?”
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