by Jayne Blue
“You’re a bad influence,” I gasped as the heat rose between my legs. Nash was skilled and swift but he wouldn’t be denied.
“Mmm,” he murmured against my collarbone as he peppered me with soft kisses there. My man was huge and hard as he drove himself home. Pleasure built and spread out from my core.
I craved him. I loved him. I was only whole with him inside of me. Nash whispered my name as he took me, sending me over the edge with wave after wave of pleasure.
“Baby,” he said. “I could get used to this.”
“Ah.” I tried to answer with something more coherent, but my building orgasm drove my words away. I arched my back and rode the wave. Nash pounded me deep, giving me the friction he knew my body craved. I was born for this. Born for him. Oh yes, I could get used to this too.
Later, we made our way back out to the balcony and finished our coffee. In the distance to the west, I saw two figures striding up the beach hand in hand. I took a sip of my coffee and gestured with the mug.
“Should we tell them we’re on to them or keep quiet?”
Nash followed my gaze and nearly spit out his own coffee. He set it down and shook his head. “No fucking way. Leave them be.”
I smiled wide and reached for him again. Nash had changed the floor plan from his original concept. He’d built an addition to the back giving my mom her own handicap accessible apartment. Most days, she could slip out thinking we couldn’t hear her. Most days she was right, but not this morning. Warmth filled me as I watched her walk barefoot in the sand with surer steps than I’d seen in months. Her lilting laughter carried across the breeze as her companion pulled her close and kissed her on the cheek.
“Paps and the professor,” Nash said. “Who’d have fucking guessed.”
I reached out and touched his face. “Don’t tease. She’ll kick your ass.”
The red lights blinked on the monitor I’d set on the table between us. Nash downed the last of his coffee and winked at me.
“Crunch time,” we said in unison. Then we each thumped our fists into our hands three times. I pulled scissors, he pulled paper.
“Sucker,” I said.
Laughing, he leaned over and kissed me. He got up and left and I stole one more glance down the beach at my mother and Nash’s father. She squealed with laughter as he told some off-color joke. Smiling, I shook my head and went to join Nash.
I found him in the bedroom across the hallway. His back was to me and his broad shoulders filled the doorframe, the howling wolf’s head emblazoned across the back of his cut. He turned and leaned down to kiss our four-month-old baby daughter’s downy head. I padded across the hallway and joined them.
“She’s getting hungry,” he said. My breasts ached in agreement. Molly gurgled against her father’s chest and gave a yawn that split her wrinkled face. I went up on my tiptoes and kissed Nash on the cheek.
“Give her to me,” I said. “You’re late for work, anyway. You’ve got contractors coming in an hour to go over the plans for the new stage you want to install.”
“Slave driver,” he said. I sat in the rocking chair Nash built for me. He gently placed Molly in my arms and watched as I loosened the straps on my dress and let Molly find my nipple.
“Yow!” I said.
Nash smiled. His eyes twinkled as he stood in the doorway.
“All right, Mrs. Tillman, I’ll be back before the school bus.”
I leaned my head against the back of the rocker and let out a breath as Molly latched on. There was that stab of pain followed by the glow of warmth as my milk let down. I opened a sleepy eye and smiled up at my husband.
“I’ll be here, Mr. Tillman,” I answered. “You can’t get rid of me. Not ever again.”
He leaned down and pressed his lips to mine. “Thank God, baby. Thank God.”
* * *
More Great Wolves Headed Your Way in
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KING
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by Jayne Blue
A Message from Jayne Blue
Thanks from the bottom of my heart for letting me share Nash and Harper’s story with you. I gotta be honest. This one wrecked me a little bit and I could barely get through the ending without blubbering. So much so I think someday soon I wouldn’t mind writing a grown up Wyatt story. Maybe a whole new “Great Wolves Generations” series? Hmm.
Focus, Jayne. FOCUS! I really do love this job and it’s because of you I get to keep doing it. I have sooo many cool things planned for the next year and beyond. For starters…
More Great Wolves MC
Don’t worry, I’m far from done with the Great Wolves M.C. Every time I write one, those guys just start buzzing in my ear demanding to have their stories told. Next up, is King’s story. His is one of the darkest thrill rides I’ve written yet. Think Sleeping with the Enemy meets Sons of Anarchy. Can you tell I’m a little bit in love? You can catch a sneak peek at this link: King by Jayne Blue.
If Nash was the first Great Wolves book you’ve read and you’d like to start from the beginning, I’ve got you covered. You can check out Dex as a complimentary download. Fair warning though, these boys are addicting. I can’t get enough of them.
And to tide you over, I’ve included an extended excerpt of the first book in my Tortured Heroes series featuring bad boys on the good side of the law. Check out the Vice at the end of the book list section.
How to Stay in the Loop
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Thank you so much for reading and connecting with me.
Love you,
Jayne Blue
* * *
http://www.jayneblue.com/
[email protected]
Books by Jayne Blue
Great Wolves M.C. (Biker Romance Series)
Dex
Sly
Colt
Kellan
Sawyer
Brax
Stone
Ryder
Nash
King
Tortured Heroes (Men in Uniform - Romantic Suspense Series)
Vice
Heat
Marked
Strike
Ripper
Edge
Torrid Trilogy (featuring Jack Manning from “Owned by the Playboy”)
Book One
Book Two
Book Three
The Owned Series (featuring call girl Nina Sharpe and President Matt Vance)
Owned by the Playboy
Owned by the Candidate
Owned by the Spy
Owned by the Prince
Owned by the G-Man
The Complete Series
Hold Series (MMA Fighter Romance)
Uncaged Series (MMA Fighter Romance)
Ride
Stripped
Clinch
Bonus Excerpt from Vice by Jayne Blue
Check out the first book in my Tortured Heroes series. These are brand new sizzling standalone romance novels featuring bad boys on the good side of the law.
* * *
Vice - Chapter One
Jase
You’d think a name like The Dive Bar would drive customers away. It should have been one of those kinds of bars where you don’t so much go to as end up. You know, when all the respectable places shut down. So in that, maybe the name was just rig
ht. Except people weren’t just ending up here. Not even a little bit. Eight o’clock on a Thursday night and the line to get in wrapped all the way around the corner. If the name wasn’t a deterrent, the look of the place should have been. A long brown building with a flat roof and tinted windows with chipped beige paint on the shutters. Ugly. Dark. Ivy crawled up one side of it and fat neon lines of spray-painted graffiti covered the side facing the parking lot. It didn’t fit in with the rest of the block either. The front windows had a view of Bernie’s Brake and Muffler Shop. The side windows overlooked an abandoned cathedral. You could say this particular corner of downtown Northpointe, Michigan was in transition.
I didn’t wait in that line wrapped around the building. I didn’t have some VIP pass. Didn’t even know anyone in this town and couldn’t go back to the town I’d been run out of. Call this a leap of faith. My last chance to get back to the life I still wanted. If things went well tonight, I’d have options. If it didn’t, I might be living out of my car next month. I walked up to the hulky dude working the door and jerked my chin at him. He raised a black, bushy brow and ran his beefy fingers over his rough stubble. His green tee shirt with the bar logo in yellow stretched over his broad chest. The guy was big, strong, but whatever muscles he had lay beneath a layer of blubber.
“Guy on the phone said to ask for Devin Marsh. Is he workin’ tonight?” The bouncer’s face split into a smile but he didn’t answer right away. His eyes twinkled with some insider secret. I expected him to give me a line of shit about how Devin Marsh wasn’t here tonight. Or that he didn’t meet with strangers. Whatever. If he wanted a pissing contest, I’d give him one.
A pasty-faced kid behind me with dirty-blond dreads to his waist put a hand on my elbow. “Hey, man. Line starts back that way. You gonna let him cut like that, Boomer?”
Boomer. The bouncer’s name was Boomer. Of course it was.
My muscles went hard and I half turned toward the kid with the dreads. One look and he put up a hand and backed away. “We cool? We cool?”
“Yeah. We cool.” I turned back to Boomer. “I’m here about a job.” Until I knew the lay of the land, I figured it was best to leave it at that. There was more than a good chance I was here for his job.
“Devin know you’re coming tonight?” Ah. There it was.
I nodded. My first outright lie of the evening. There’d be a dozen more before I was through. And that’s if everything went right. He looked me up and down and again I half expected a pat down. But he moved to the side and pointed with his thumb.
“Devin’s probably in the back. Best bet is to have a seat at the bar if you can find one and wait.”
“Thanks, man,” I said. The bouncer stepped to the side.
I could barely see when I got inside. There wasn’t much to the place. It had a certain hipster charm if you’re into that type of thing. I’m not. The horse-shoe-shaped bar took up most of the floor space in the center of the room. If the line outside seemed unwieldy, this was insane. People four and five deep crowded around it as the bartenders and waitresses hustled to fill orders. They were good at it too. A well-honed choreography as one reached up for glasses while another ducked down into the ice bin. Good service. Good drinks. That’s all you need to make a fortune in a town like this. Like anywhere. Because The Dive Bar wasn’t shit to look at on the inside.
No booths. No square tables. Patrons sat on mismatched couches tucked into every corner of the place. It gave the place a cozy vibe, like hanging out in your parents’ basement. I figured that was half the draw after the quick service.
The hair rose on the back of my neck as I kept my back to the wall. I didn’t like it. Too many places where something could go wrong. A darkened hallway at the back of the room could lead to anywhere. Another entrance to my left, crowded with people. My fingers twitched at my right hip, searching for the outline of a weapon that wasn’t there anymore. It still felt like they cut off my fucking arm that day. I set my jaw hard as that tremor of rage passed through me. I couldn’t do anything about it now. Today was about working my way back. Time to focus.
Then something happened. The crowd at the bar started to thin out and move off toward that darkened hallway. My eyes went to a pink neon flyer stuck to the wall. There were scores of them. The HolyRocks Live at The Dive Bar & Grille. Today’s date. Ten minutes from now.
I pressed my back against the wall and let out a breath. Those here for the show went off to see it, leaving the rest, more sedate crowd seated on bar stools or watching from their couches.
Boomer opened the front door and let a few more people in. The kid with the dreads must have either gotten impatient or left, or pissed Boomer off enough he lost his place in line. Either way he wasn’t with the crowd coming in from the street. A big group. Giggling college girls. A couple of them looked too young to drink. But that wasn’t my problem anymore either.
I could have headed to the bar right away. Something told me to hang back. Maybe I could learn a lot. The minute I sought out Devin Marsh and made my presence known, people would start to notice me. They’d react to me. If I stayed invisible, I might be able to figure out who a few of the players were.
God, I didn’t think I’d ever seen so many knit beanies in one place before. You had your typical guys on the make. Leaning in, laughing at jokes that weren’t funny. Girls in groups trying to pretend they weren’t just as much on the make as the men. I looked for somebody else like me. Somebody watching, waiting, apart from the crowd. My shoulders relaxed a little when I didn’t find anyone like that. At least not at first.
And then I did.
At the corner of the bar, a guy in faded jeans and a white button-down shirt looked twitchy. He bounced his knee off the bottom rung of the bar stool. He nearly jumped out of his seat when a light hand touched his elbow.
Smooth. Subtle. A guy in a light brown leather jacket reached around him for a cocktail napkin. They didn’t make eye contact but I was watching Twitchy’s hands. Just a flash of white, wrapped in plastic. Twitchy palmed it and slid it into his jeans pocket.
I wanted to follow Leather Jacket out the door, but it wasn’t time yet. Too soon. I was here for bigger fish.
Then I saw her.
She ducked under a hinged partition in the bar and stood in profile. Her face hard as she wrote on a piece of paper while patrons shouted out drink orders at her. Cute, in a pissy sort of way, with a button nose, high cheekbones and heart-shaped lips in a permanent scowl. She arched one dark brow when one of the bartenders asked her a question, then went back to writing. She had a mass of black hair gathered into a bushy mess of a ponytail with one side cropped short and a shaved part curving around her ear. She wore an oversized white tee shirt and green leggings with black combat boots. Pure Laundry Day Chic but I couldn’t help staring at how those leggings cupped her round ass.
One of the customers came up to her and slid an arm around her shoulder. The guy was thick and swayed on his feet. Twice her size. She went rigid and so did I, my fingers playing at my hip again, looking for that damn weapon that wasn’t there. I could still get to the ankle strap if I needed to, but it wouldn’t be half as smooth or fast. She cocked her head to the side and looked up at the gropey loser. God. She was stunning. Big brown eyes that stared through him even though she curved her pink lips into a half-smile. He wasn’t lucid enough to see the threat in her eyes the way I did. In a way it felt like a secret I shared with her. She wanted the world to see one thing but kept something else just to herself. The neck of her tee shirt slipped and I got a glimpse of the black bra she wore underneath. More than just my back went rigid and I wish I’d had a chance to order a damn beer.
She put her hands up and gave him a playful, but strong shove. He lifted his own hands, laughed, and backed away. One of the bartenders slid a beer down the bar and she caught it. I half wanted her to crack it over the guy’s skull, but she barked out a laugh and handed it to him. He moved away and I settled back against the wall.
&
nbsp; I turned my attention back to the crowd. I knew I should go to the bar and start asking questions, but I’d never have this moment again. For now, I was wallpaper. No one even knew I was there. A drumbeat vibrated beneath my feet as the live show in the back started up. The crowd at the bar thinned out even more leaving maybe a dozen patrons out on the main floor, another dozen at the bar. These had to be the regulars.
The girl with the side cut and ponytail went back behind the bar and tapped her orders into the screen by the register. I realized then I wasn’t the only one watching her. The guy on the corner stool sipped his beer and tilted his head when she bent down to grab something under the counter. He licked his lips and leaned forward to get a better view.
My fingers curled into fists and I did a mental ten count. His hand slid out of view below the bar. He rubbed himself. The mother fucker actually rubbed himself while he watched her.
“Kinney, I gotta go out back,” she said, heaving a bag of trash over her shoulder. Even her voice was sexy, with a deep, smoky quality. One of the other bartenders—Kinney, I guess: black guy with a ripped, bodybuilder physique and a baby face—gave her a nod and held up a thumb.
She passed right by the guy on the corner stool and headed out a service door toward the back of the bar. Corner Stool watched her go. He took a swig of beer then looked around to see if anyone was watching him. He only looked around the bar though. He didn’t see me in the darkened corner of the room. He downed the last of his beer, slid a bill across the counter then hopped off his stool. He ran a hand through his hair, darted his eyes toward the bar one last time then pushed through the door and went after her.