Living Fast: Steele Ridge Series

by Adrienne Giordano

  He tucked one hand under her thigh, pushed it up, and was so deep inside her she thought she'd come apart. Just split in two.

  “That hurt?”

  Hurt? Was he kidding? Experimenting, she lifted her other leg.

  “Oh, man,” he said, pumping his hips. “Damn, girl.”

  “That feels amazing.”

  He pumped harder and she clamped her hands on his rear, holding him, refusing to let go because, yes, yes, yes, the storm inside her started. That swirling euphoria, building, building, building, one layer, then another.

  Perfection.

  The night. The man. The sex.

  She dragged her hands up over his hips to his chest, explored the bulging muscles. A man's man.

  Finally.

  Pressure expanded inside her, an enormous squeeze that stole her breath, and the corner of Reid's mouth lifted. So damned smug.

  She didn't care. For what he was doing, she'd let him be smug. She brought her hands to his cheeks, ran them up into his hair, let them get lost in all that silky softness, and he pumped harder.

  The hand holding her leg disappeared and he propped himself on his elbows, his gaze still on hers, holding her stare, and she worked her hips in time with his.

  A soft growl came from his throat and he smiled at her.

  “Wicked woman.”

  Her body stiffened and she strained against the building orgasm. “Reid?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I loved being on top.”

  He kissed her, drove his tongue into her mouth and—now, now, now—she exploded. Her body fracturing into a million different pieces, the release so perfect.

  So good.

  Reid reared up, threw his head back, working his hips faster and harder, and she touched his chest and ran her fingers over his nipples. He cried out, a fierce, guttural moan.

  He collapsed, all that massive muscle falling on top of her, smothering her under him, but she wrapped him up, hugged him to her.

  “You're a beautiful man, Reid Steele. Don't let anyone ever tell you otherwise.”

  * * *

  “So,” Reid said, feeling way happier than a man had a right to be. “You liked being on top, huh?”

  Curled next to him, huddling against his chest, Brynne dipped her head, nipped at his skin. “Don't tease me.”

  He shifted to his side, slid his other hand over her hip to her back, drew her closer, skin to skin from chest to thigh. Just how he liked it.

  And he'd never again curse Mother Nature, because she'd given him a gift tonight. Hot as hell in the middle of May, enabling them to lie out here naked as a couple of jays.

  Brynne's hair fell in a tangled mess that said she'd just been supremely shagged and his body started to stir again.

  This woman. She might screw him to death. And he might like it.

  “I'm not teasing you,” he said. He kissed her lightly, lingered for a second, let her feel his growing hard-on. “It makes me happy. That you liked it.”

  “Oh, I liked it. Believe me.”

  “As you can tell, so did I.”

  She laughed, dipped her head in that sweet, cute-as-hell move that meant he'd embarrassed her. If it were light out, he'd probably see her cheeks turning red.

  Killer combo, this one. Sweetness and vixen all in one.

  And she's mine.

  For now anyway.

  But what the hell did that mean? All he'd wanted was to get out of this place. Away from small-town life. To travel and see places.

  Coming back here? Permanently? That hadn't been in the cards. And Brynne, she had a business here. Family. From what he could tell, she wouldn't be leaving any time soon.

  Hell, this shouldn't even be on his radar. Not after one night. Even if it truly was extraordinary.

  She snuggled against him, ran one leg up his. “I think it's funny that you rigged the security cameras so there's a blind spot.”

  That blind spot might have been his subconscious at work, because yeah, right now? Freaking genius move.

  “I didn't want the security guys watching me when I lie out here. I come here to be alone and think. They don't even know. I hear them drive by when they're patrolling.”

  She gasped. “Seriously? What if…”

  He pulled her in close. “They won't. Not unless they hear screaming.”

  She levered up. “I feel so naughty. We just had sex in your yard! Where someone could have just walked up.”

  “I mean, if you want to get dramatic about it, yeah. But, honestly, chances of someone walking up were slim. Besides, they'd go to the front first and we'd hear them.” He waved a hand. “But if the risk factor gets you hot, have at it. As you may have noticed, I wouldn't mind.”

  “What time is it?”

  “Plenty of darkness still left, sweetness. And I have a bunch of new positions for you to try.”

  17

  After sneaking Brynne back into the house, Reid sacked out for a few hours before the glory of his mama's brewing pecan coffee got his ass moving again.

  He shuffled into the kitchen, found his mother at the giant farm table paying bills. Yes, she still wrote checks rather than paying online. He liked that. Reminded him of childhood and the sense of routine he'd experienced back then. Before Dad had decided to spend ninety percent of his life at the cabin. His parents' relationship would always be an enigma, but certain things were constant. Like his mother paying bills twice a month. In the morning. At the kitchen table.

  “Morning, Mom.”

  “Hey, baby. Your mug is there and coffee is hot.”

  He popped a kiss on her head. “Thank you.”

  “Give me ten minutes to finish up here and I'll get some breakfast going.”

  He poured his coffee, topped off Mom's, and slid into the chair across from her, setting his phone in front of him in case Brynne texted.

  Mom eyeballed the phone and he nudged it to the side. She hated phones at the table. “I know,” he said. “But I'm waiting on a couple of important calls.”

  Really, he was just hoping Brynne might call begging him to do her again. Yeah, he was a menace. Sue me.

  Mom went back to her bills and Reid checked out her white top with a screen-printed photo of a dark-haired woman, her large hazel eyes staring straight out. The image was in shadow, but the woman's eyes? Totally intense.

  The shirt seemed kinda edgy for his mom, but lately she'd been dressing more hip and when Reid looked close enough, the woman's eyes were the exact color of Jonah's.

  And wasn't that interesting? A woman with Jonah's eyes. Micki's eyes.

  Reid put thoughts of his absentee sister out of his mind. Nothing about Micki made any sense and if he spent too much time thinking on it, he'd get aggravated. About a lot of things.

  His phone rang. At barely 7:00 a.m. it had to be one of the guys from overseas.

  The number was local, though. An Asheville exchange. “Sorry, Mom. I gotta take this.”

  He scooped up the phone and headed to the living room. “Hello?”

  “Is this Reid?”

  “You got me. Who's this?”

  “It's Blake Boden. I talked to you yesterday in front of Dexter Sweet's place?”

  “You're the neighbor?”

  “Yeah. You said to call if I saw him. He just got home.”

  “He's at his house? Now?”

  “Yeah. I had the early shift today and saw him getting home. He's all banged up. Probably stoned.”

  Reid thanked the guy, disconnected, and called Britt.

  Of all his brothers, Britt would actually be awake now. Probably communing with nature or some shit.

  “Hey,” Britt said. “What's up?”

  Yep. Big brother. Wide awake. “I got a call from Dexter's neighbor. He's home. You up for riding shotgun?”

  “If it means you not going alone, yeah.”

  “I'll pick you up in twenty. I'm out.”

  He punched off and strode to the kitchen where his mother was just closin
g her checkbook.

  “Mom, I need to go.”

  “But I'm starting breakfast. You have to eat.”

  “I'll grab something. I'm gonna hit the shower and head out. I shouldn't be long. I'll tell Brynne to stay put until I get back.”

  With the hours she kept last night, she'd probably sleep all morning.

  His mother let out a sigh, the one perfected by mothers worldwide. “Well, all right. Just be careful.”

  “Don't you worry. I will.”

  Time to pay a visit to Dexter Sweet.

  * * *

  By 8:15, Reid and Britt were clomping up the battered porch steps of Dexter Sweet's home.

  As he’d done yesterday, Reid had loaded himself down with weapons and had passed a couple on to Britt. If anything went sideways, they were at least both armed.

  “Let's stay cool,” Britt said. “Don't get crazy.”

  “I got it.”

  Reid rapped on the peeling front door and waited. A minute later, the door swung open and a woman in her forties—maybe early fifties—stood there. She wore what looked like a housekeeper's uniform from one of the chain hotels, and her feet were bare. She studied them both with hard, accusing eyes.

  “Help you?”

  “Is Dexter home?”

  “What do you want with him?”

  “All due respect, ma'am. That's personal.”

  The woman smirked. “Well, I'm his mama and it don't get more personal than that.”

  Tough cookie. Beside Reid, Britt cleared his throat. “Morning, ma'am,” he said in his aw-shucks voice. “We just need to ask Dexter a few questions.”

  “You cops? He's not talking to any cops without a lawyer.”

  Reid took that one. “No, ma'am. Not cops. I'm Reid Steele. This is my brother.”

  “Steele?”

  There we go. “Yes.”

  “The Steele Ridge Steeles?”

  Now mama bear was getting it. Two guys bearing the name of the town where her son was arrested had showed up at her door. “Yes, ma'am. That's us. We're here to talk to Dexter about his arrest. If he's straight with us, maybe we can help him.”

  Not likely, but if they were gonna get past mama bear, Reid wasn't holding back on much of anything.

  Her gaze shifted from Reid to Britt and back. Come on, lady.

  She stepped back, held the door open.

  Bingo.

  “You can come in. Have a seat. I need to wake him up.”

  Reid glanced at Britt, jerked his chin, and stepped into the house.

  Just behind the door was a staircase and mama bear headed up, so Reid and Britt moved to the tiny living room. The inside, although spotless, had more of the same rundown feeling as the outside. Tattered furniture, mismatched curtains, and wood floors in need of refinishing. Still, he sensed the occupants cared, had even tried to make the place welcoming with throw pillows and a few plants.

  All of that, he saw. What he didn't see was a junkie's house. Maybe mama bear was a single mother trying to make ends meet and her son went wayward. Who the hell knew? But the smell of lemons in the air, the tidiness of the place, the effort, sure didn't give Reid the impression the woman was a checked-out parent.

  Rather than sit, the Steele boys remained standing. With any luck, this wouldn't take too long.

  A round of yelling from the second floor ensued and Britt pulled a face. Apparently, Dexter wasn't happy. Oh. Well.

  Mama bear's feet, now covered with sneakers, appeared through the spindles on the steps and then the rest of her came into view. She hit the bottom, grabbed her purse off the hook and slipped it to her shoulder.

  “He'll be down in a second. I need to go to work. But I'm calling Dexter's uncle. He lives around the block. He'll make sure nothing gets crazy. He'll call the cops if he needs to. And I know who you boys are. If anything happens to my son, I will find you.”

  “Ma'am,” Reid said. “I promise you. If things get crazy, it won't be our doing.”

  At that, she harrumphed. Above them, a floorboard creaked. “He's up,” she said.

  “Thank you.”

  She left via the back door and Reid checked his watch. If the uncle lived around the corner, they had maybe ten minutes to get whatever they could out of old Dexter.

  Reid glanced up at the steps, tapped his foot and smacked his hands together. “I'm tired of waiting.” He headed for the steps. “I'm gonna catch him off guard. You can stay here if you want.”

  “My ass.”

  “Atta boy.”

  At the second floor, Reid noted four doors. Two on one side, one on the other and at the end of the hallway a bathroom. Music drifted from one of the doors on the right and he stopped at the first door. Listened a second. Nothing. Next door.

  He turned to Britt, jerked his thumb and they moved to the second door. Reid set his hand on the knob, gave it a quick turn and shoved the door open.

  Dexter Sweet stood in the middle of the room.

  In his underwear.

  Damn, could this get any better? Now he had to talk to two apes in only his briefs.

  And it wasn't lost on Reid that he got to give this guy a serious mind fuck by trapping him in his bedroom like he'd done to Brynne.

  “Well, this'll work out just fine.”

  “What the fuck?” Dexter hollered. “Hey! You're the dude from that bitch's place.”

  Steeer-rike! Reid cocked his head, fought to control his rising blood pressure over this dumbass calling Brynne a bitch. He could work this, though.

  “How does this feel, Dexter? To be trapped in your own room?”

  “Fuck you.”

  “No, thanks.” Reid pointed to the bed. “Have a seat.”

  “Touch me and I'll sue you.”

  Reid waved that off. In truth, he'd love to pummel this asshole. Beat him to an unrecognizable pulp.

  But he wouldn't.

  First, he had no doubt the kid would indeed press charges. Second, this piece of shit had information he needed and pulverizing him would only slow this investigation down.

  Reid stepped farther into the room and the smell of cheap cologne, that crap all the high school kids wore, made his eyes water. He nodded to Britt to block the door. “Listen up, Dexter, you're gonna help yourself out here.”

  “I am?”

  “Bet your ass.” Reid waved a hand. “Might as well sit down.”

  “Can I put my pants on?”

  “Nope.”

  The kid hit him with a hard stare and Reid glanced at Britt, who rolled his eyes.

  Reid went back to Dexter. “Dude, you're pissing me off. And believe me, I'd have no problem finding a place to dump your body. You may have noticed, you're not my favorite person.”

  Keeping an eye on Britt, Dexter eased his way to the bed.

  “Britt, watch him.” Reid checked out the dresser, scanning the top. Nothing but some crappy looking jewelry, a couple of condoms, and three bottles of high-school cologne.

  “Okay, Dexter, we'll make this quick. You tell us what you were looking for in my girl's place yesterday, and we'll walk out of here without tearing your arms off. How does that sound?”

  “Fuck you.”

  Reid opened the top drawer of the dresser.

  “Hey! That's my shit.”

  “Yep. Sure is. And I'm about to go through it.” Out of the corner of his eye, Reid spotted Britt straightening up. “Don't move, Dexter, or the big guy by the door will take you apart. Trust me, he's a dirty fighter.”

  Good old Britt. Nicest guy to walk the earth, but he could fuck a dude up.

  Not finding anything of interest, Reid slid the top drawer closed, opened the second. The underwear drawer. People usually kept all kinds of interesting crap in the underwear drawer.

  He riffled through some boxers and a yellow pair of tighty-whities. “Dude, yellow? Tsk, tsk, tsk. We'll make those your second strike. While I finish raiding your dresser, why don't you start talking? What phone were you looking for the other night?”
/>
  “I don't know anything.”

  Sigh. “Sure you do.”

  Reid opened the third drawer. Socks. All neatly folded inside of each other so they wouldn't separate and get lost in the drawer. Also a terrific place to hide things. Starting on the left, he began squeezing each set of socks, running his fingers up and down, feeling for anything foreign.

  The bed squeaked and Reid looked up, found Dexter standing. “Sit down, Dexter.”

  “Get out of my shit, man.”

  “This is how stupid you are. The first two drawers, you didn't move. I get to the third and all of a sudden you're on your feet. What's in this drawer you don't want me to see?”

  “Nothing.”

  Dexter took two steps—idiot—and Reid had enough. He pivoted and slipped the punch Dexter tried to throw. Boom, he clocked him with a right hook. Dexter's head snapped sideways, as he fell back on the bed.

  “Shit,” Britt said.

  If the fucker passed out, that'd be a problem. Reid watched for a few seconds as Dexter, flat on his back, arms sprawled, blinked. Slowly at first, then more rapidly.

  “He's fine.” Reid went back to the drawer. “Watch him while I dig through this stuff.”

  Now he yanked the socks apart, waved them around in case anything was hidden inside. Four pair in, something crackled. Now that was interesting.

  “What have we got here, Dexter?”

  Inside one of the socks, Reid found a roughly three-by-three inch foil package marked potpourri.

  Potpourri.

  He flipped the package and—whoa—there was the logo they'd found on Nelson's Facebook page. Reid studied it for a long second, the pieces suddenly coming together. And, oh shit. The logo on the back, the packaging, Ed Wayne and Nelson.

  He rummaged through the rest of the socks, found five more packs of potpourri. And if this was potpourri, Reid was Betty White in disguise.

  Using the edge of a sock, he lifted the packets and walked back to Dexter, still sprawled on the bed.

  “Sit up. Right now.”

  “Fuck you.”

  Oh, his patience was about cooked. “Okay,” he said. “I'm gonna make this easy.” He held his phone where Dexter could see it. “See this? I'm calling the cops.”