Hard Ride

by Trixie Pierce

  “You got it, Hellcat,” he pulled the book out, and settled into the horrible recliner.

  She relaxed into the bed, ready for a night of his velvet voice reading in a smooth rhythm. As he began where they’d last left off, she reacted a little differently to the sound of him reading. A fine tension started in her chest, and spread. It was pleasant, and she recognized the sensation of anticipation.

  What changed? She’d been able to keep him at a friendly distance since coming into the hospital, and yesterday he didn’t have this effect on her. Yet, here she was, listening to Houston read a thriller, and fantasizing about thrills of a completely different nature.

  She wasn’t sure, but she had the feeling her heart and mind decided to stop arguing over where Houston would fit. And her heart’s silent battle had been won.

  Chapter Twenty One

  Houston didn’t pull out the flash drive. Something bothered Katie, she’d been tense since he’d walked in. It wasn’t him, or at least he hoped not. She wasn’t letting him into her thoughts, and badgering wouldn’t do the trick.

  What he’d discovered on the flash drive wasn’t a good thing. While her uncle and the former CEO of her father’s company were the masterminds, they weren’t the insiders. Someone targeted her businesses, and was damn good at hiding. Whether she liked it or not, he wasn’t leaving her alone until they found the person on the inside.

  He suspected it was Mike. He’d caught the flash of rage across the man’s features. Houston suspected Katie had purposefully missed it, didn’t want to think the shy man capable of hurting her in such a manner.

  He continued reading, taking note of her intense stare. He withheld the smile. The weeks of being her friend, of staying by her side, and not hiding his feelings, worked. He’d decided Katie was one of those women that if he wanted more than a fling, something lasting, he must be her friend first. Argue, laugh, and watch over her. He’d had to fight the need to be the boss, to possess, to dominate. She would have kicked his ass to the curb. It’d been exhausting, exhilarating. It’d changed his entire perception.

  The hair on the back of his neck stood, and he glanced at Katie. Before he consciously processed the look on her face, or the intent in her eyes, his body knew exactly what she was thinking about. The heat of her gaze held him trapped, and time stopped. In his mind, he saw their children, their life, and without doubt, knew he’d have to fight for it. The life he saw wasn’t going to be surrendered on demand.

  He wanted that life.

  “Hellcat,” he whispered.

  Confusion spread across her features, followed by fear.

  He stood, slow, easy. “Never fear me.” Leaning over the bed, keeping his hands on the rail for balance, watching emotions skitter across her features, eyes widening. Taking his time, he lowered his mouth to hers, lightly brushing against her lips, feeling her shudder. He nipped her bottom lip, followed by a quick flick of the tongue. He wanted to ravish them, to possess her, to take … and take … and take. But she needed to know that wasn’t his only way. He licked the seam of her lips, asking for entrance. She gasped and he took advantage. Deepening the kiss, he slid his tongue against hers, asking for more, waiting for permission. He gave her control.

  The feel of her hands sliding across his shoulders made his body tense, the first time she’d touched him in over a month. He’d missed it, and when her hands slipped into his dark locks, her nails gently scraped his scalp, he couldn’t contain the groan of pleasure. She grabbed fistfuls, tugging. He took it as a yes.

  Letting go of control, he ravaged her mouth, sliding his tongue against hers, pulling back, and going back for more. She tasted of the cinnamon toothpaste she favored, her mouth silky. He imitated what he wanted to do, but didn’t dare until she was healed.

  As she moaned, pulling him closer, he fought the dizzying sensation of falling, not wanting to grab and damage her still-healing body. Neither could he resist the invitation. Putting hands on either side of her shoulders, he leaned closer, grateful for his height.

  His heart pumped harder, and he groaned when her hand wandered low, tugging on his t-shirt, rubbing against his skin. She pushed further, lifting the fabric until her hand was against his shoulder blade. He shuddered, and used his tongue to mouth fuck her. She pulled him close, nails digging into his back. Her body tensed, as he tasted her mouth, her tongue dueling with his.

  If he wasn’t careful, he’d cum in his jeans.

  She sucked on his tongue briefly, and he couldn’t stop the thrusting of his hips against the harsh railing. He needed to be between her thighs, slipping in and out of her core, wanted to feel her inner muscles contract around him, wringing him dry.

  Her nails broke skin, and he moaned, the pain creating ripples of pleasure. Using his teeth against her lips, her hips bucked against the bed. Leaning on one arm, he slid a hand down her form, to her hips.

  Pulling back from the kiss, “I can take care of you. Do you want me to?”

  “Yes, damn it, yes,” voice low, hoarse, her breathing harsh.

  Leaning his forehead against hers, he swallowed, “Are you sure?”

  “Just do it, Houston! Don’t leave me hurting like this,” voice dropped to a begging tone.

  He nodded and nuzzled her neck, nipping the skin, goosebumps rising when her other hand grasped his shoulder and dug in. Even through the thick cotton of his shirt, he could feel her digging in. Her hips rose in a silent plea. He didn’t resist, needed her satisfaction.

  Moving his hand under the blanket, he tugged the flimsy hospital gown out of the way, and slid his hand between her thighs. The springy curls were hot and damp. He put his head on her chest, counting to twenty, thinking of baseball scores, anything to get his body under control. He slipped two fingers into the velvety and slick skin, rubbing up and down for a moment, ensuring every inch of her was wet. With every pass, his hips imitated what he desperately wanted to do.

  Sliding a middle finger into her core, the muscles squeezing tight, he heard a loud moan. He took her mouth, using his tongue to imitate the rhythm of his hand. His thumb found the tight little bud, swollen, hard, and begging for attention.

  Moving his thumb in circles, while gently finger fucking her, he could feel her orgasm barreling to completion. Her hips bucked against his hand, and she sucked on his tongue, whimpering.

  He knew the moment she exploded. Her core held his finger tight, the muscles clenching and releasing in rapid succession, her hips lifted against his hand, rocking, she bit and sucked on his lips and tongue, screaming into his mouth.

  He swallowed the sound, keeping her orgasm rolling, wanting to lap the cum soaking his hand.

  After untold moments, she finally collapsed against the bed, boneless. He nibbled her lips, moving his hand, enjoying the tiny orgasms rocking her.

  Leaning back, he looked into her glazed eyes, “Are you okay?”

  Chapter Twenty Two

  Was she okay? Was he fucking serious? She was in a hospital, and he’d just giving her an earth shattering orgasm, not asking her to return the favor. He’d put her needs above his. He’d seen what she’d been thinking about, a damned mind reader.

  Was she fucking okay? Her mind screamed, telling her to run, and run fast. He knew her, didn’t give a shit about her new scars, and still asked if she was okay.

  Her body trying to recover, she wasn’t sure she had bones. She could feel his finger, moving gently inside of her, giving her small ripples of pleasure.

  “Katie?” he removed his hand, worry filling his handsome features.

  “Yeah,” she stared into those blue eyes, not sure what to say. Emotions stretched her skin, making it tight, and uncomfortable. She wasn’t going to name them, to do so would be an admission of fragile thoughts.

  He kissed her gently, and things low in her body clenched. She wanted to ask for more, but that Parker pride reared its ugly head. She smiled instead.

  “I’ll be right back, Hellcat.” He adjusted his roaring erection, mak
ing her mouth water, and walked with a slight limp into the bathroom. She was jealous of his hands, wanted to be the one to bring him to orgasm, watch his face, swallow his cries of release.

  As reality slowly sunk in, she noted she lay in a rather large wet spot, with no way of calling the nurse and explaining what happened. She sucked in her lips and bit down, trying desperately to hold in a laugh. She could see how that would go over, and finally gave in to a fit of giggles.

  Moments later, Houston returned, walking normally, the tension gone. He winked when he caught her gaze.

  “One day, Katie, we’re going to talk. Not right now, maybe not for a few days, but we have to have a conversation.” He stood next to her bed, towering, hands on hips, feet shoulder width apart, eyes telling her there was no arguing.

  “I think you might be right.” She gave him a nod.

  He sat down, picked up the Clancy novel, and resumed reading.

  *

  She woke to the sounds of rubber soles against the tiled floor, finding Houston asleep in the recliner, the sun streaming through the curtains, and a nurse going over the paperwork. She looked up, and smiled.

  “Ready to go home? We’re doing the paperwork now. Is Houston taking you home?” she spoke in a whisper, throwing a gentle smile at the sleeping hulk of a man in the recliner.

  “Yes, we just have to pack all this crap up.” Katie looked around the room, noting Houston had everything in neat little piles, and two boxes ready to go.

  “You’re lucky. A man like that is hard to find.” The nurse put the paperwork down, patted her leg and left.

  The sensation was weird, after weeks of a cast. She wore a boot on her right leg, but her left was still in a fiberglass cast. She had crutches, but tried to use the cane most of the time. Her bruises were gone, leaving only scars. She’d avoided mirrors, knowing it was vanity. But Houston didn’t seem to mind them, and if last night was any indication, it had no effect whatsoever on his attraction to her. The thought brought comfort.

  “Houston. Come on, hon, we need to get ready to go,” she spoke in a low tone, not wanting to startle him.

  His eyes opened, fluttering a few times, before popping open and he looked around, as if trying to get his bearings.

  “The nurse was just in here, said they’re doing the paperwork. I need to get dressed,” she pushed to a sitting position.

  He stood, stretched, and she barely held in the gasp as his t-shirt lifted to give a glimpse of his six pack abs, and that little “V” leading into the worn jeans. Her tongue tingled in desperation to run over the entire area, taste him. She swallowed, blinking to return to reality. They had a lot to do, her fantasies would have to wait.

  He pushed a little button, flipping down the guard, and leaned in to give her a quick kiss on the forehead.

  “Give me a few, I’ll get everything together, and get you cleaned up.” He grabbed the shaving kit from the little bedside table and went into the bathroom.

  Katie wanted a shower. A nice long hot one. But it would be another sponge bath and dry shampoo. At most, she’d get to take a bath at home. She maneuvered until her legs dangled off the bed, feeling the weakness in her muscles. She definitely needed the help. The internal battle started, between asking for help, and doing it even if it meant hurting herself.

  Sighing, she stayed in place, waiting for Houston. Common sense didn’t always win, and she’d fallen several times over the past few weeks. Rubbing her forehead, it’d been pure stubbornness. She wasn’t up for lectures, or more injuries that might cause her to have a longer stay.

  Houston returned, frowning at her, even narrowing his eyes for a split second, before glancing around the room, and nodding once. “Carry or walk?”

  “I need to walk, you heard the doc. Helps healing.”

  “You got it.” He slid arms around her, bending at the knees and letting her fall against him. Inch by inch, she landed on her feet, trying to straighten, but her legs couldn’t take her full weight yet. Held tight against him, straightening in slow inches, until she had both arms wrapped around his chest, his hand under her armpit. She shuffled to the bathroom, hanging on for all she was worth. Not because she needed the help, a cane would have been sufficient. But because the feel of his body, his strength and his heat more than she could resist.

  Chapter Twenty Three

  It was a long, hard, heated argument. It involved screaming, silences, and hurling accusations. But in the end, he won. He’d given her a choice: his place, or he moved in to hers while she healed. His refusal to budge had pissed her off, no less than he expected.

  The massive house remained intimidating, but Katie had been right all those weeks ago. It wasn’t her, only the house she lived in. She wasn’t empty, soulless. The polished oak flooring, two story ceilings in the foyer, or the spotless walls did not reflect her colorful personality, her beautiful imperfections.

  He carried her upstairs, relishing the feel of her arms around his neck, head resting against his shoulder. The trust he wouldn’t drop her. By the time they’d gotten everything unloaded and unpacked, she was asleep, curled into a fetal position on the bed, hands under her head, face relaxed. His heart beat heavily, and he wanted to stand over her sleeping form, so small on the massive bed, to watch for any danger.

  He blew out a breath, knowing she’d only get a little angrier at him. Such independence. Such fire. He loved it, thinking of the Judge. Beautiful on the outside, with all the right curves, and if a person wasn’t familiar with it, the power under the hood a deadly surprise. It required special handling, the ability to adjust, and knowing that changing it would mean losing what made it beautiful in the first place.

  He’d taken apart the Judge while he was at the shop, replacing parts and pieces of the body. It was almost back to normal, and currently in the shop waiting for painting. He’d even managed to get them to mix the original Orbit Orange as a surprise for Katie.

  Quietly gathering his laptop and the flash drive, he went into the sitting room, turned on the standing lamp and got to work. He was close to finding the culprit in the mess. He’d weeded out most of the accounting staff, leaving three people: Michael Collins, the shy accountant who worked out of Hard Ride, Bethany Harrows, an outgoing and friendly woman working out of the main Parker Enterprises office, and Clint Brown, a massive man with a gentle disposition and a desk next to Bethany. Carter Jones was dead, they’d been unable to save him, but the man never had access into the right server to do the embezzlement.

  Houston strongly suspected Mike. He was the only one who set off his radar. He looked at the picture on the opposite wall, the soft light from the lamp giving the Picasso a different perspective. The muted colors made the woman in the picture less out of whack and more realistic. He could see sadness, hiding the pride. Picasso, though not a favorite, had managed to capture a dual nature in the small painting. It was his Hellcat.

  The little voice in his head asked if he suspected Mike due to jealousy. Katie always treated the man with gentleness, giving him a lot of leeway, never letting him see her temper. Whereas she’d let loose with both barrels on him, unafraid.

  His mind stopped, and he gaped at the painting. She was herself around him, allowing the good and bad to have time, as if she knew he’d stay, was worthy of seeing everything. Faults as well as the parts she kept under wraps: the need to protect her people, to ensure they always had what they needed, never wanted. He remembered each time she’d allowed him to see her vulnerable spots.

  Smiling at the discovery, he went back to looking over the spreadsheets, comparing them to the account ledger, and in turn, comparing them to the bank statements. He grabbed the one thing he hated, the dreaded reading glasses. His eyes were straining, and slipping them on, he peeked at the bed, seeing Katie hadn’t moved. Pulling a folder from the laptop briefcase, he grabbed some invoices and returned to the comparative analysis.

  Someone had reached into the cookie jar, and by god, he was going to find out who.


  *

  He heard sheets rustling, and jumped. Stretching stiff neck muscles, he yawned and put everything to the side. Regret at falling asleep in the chair gripped him. But it was worth it. He’d made some major steps to solving the mystery.

  “Houston? Are you awake? Are you in here?” her voice was throaty and slightly slurred.

  “Yeah, honey, I’m here. Was working on something. Need some help?” He threw the covers off her, enjoying the view. Despite the scar from the accident on her shoulder, and the additional scars leaving a trail down the side of her face, or maybe because of them, he found her one of the most beautiful women he’d ever laid eyes on.

  “I’m so stiff,” she grumped, “and need the restroom. Where’s my cane?”

  “I can carry you, sweetheart.”

  “No, I have to walk. You heard the doc’s orders.” One green eye glared at him, the other lid closed.

  He smiled, giving her an arm to hold for support. Once upright, he handed her the cane and forced himself to stand back. He put both hands in the sweat pants pockets, to contain the need to help her. She struggled to stand, and he barely stopped from reaching forward to lift her to her feet.

  She made it, her smile triumphant. “Ha! Take that!” With slow, awkward steps, she headed for the bathroom.

  He stayed five steps behind. Even when she closed the door in his face, he remained close, just in case.

  “Quit hovering, damn it!” she yelled, voice carrying easily through the thick door.

  He chuckled. “Make me!”

  He laughed at her growl. Several minutes later, she opened the door, glared, and broke into a big smile.

  “I’m not going to win that argument, am I?” she patted his chest.

  “Not a snowball’s chance,” keeping close.

  He watched her dress, enjoying the small things she did to get prepare for a day. Not that she could go far, but it’d been made very clear she would eat downstairs, and wasn’t going to stay in bed.