Bitter Sweet Deception (The Kingsmen M.C Book 4) (2 page)

CHAPTER ONE

CHARLIE

TWO MONTHS EARLIER

“
I got it, Sugar
!
”

Fuck! No! I blindly reach for the shower curtain, eyes closed tight to prevent the shampoo from entering. Fumbling around, my fingers make contact with the lush bath towel hanging from the hook nearby. I pull it quickly to my body, fighting to keep it secure as I race from the bathroom, dripping a path behind me. I can hear his voice talking into the open air around him, and I use it as a guide, steering my course.

“
Well, i
t’
s nice to talk to you, too. Sure, sh
e’
s right
-
”

I interrupt Clink as h
e’
s mid-sentence,
 “
Here!
I’
m right here
.
”

I open my left eye in a slit so as not to let the harsh chemicals offend my sight. Now that I can sort of see wha
t’
s in front of me, I take my cell phone from Clink, as his brows furrow into a look of confusion at me.

“
Hi, mom
.
”

My mom makes her weekly Sunday check-in call promptly at 9 AM. I must have spent a few too many extra moments shaving my legs to be free of the shower in time to intercept the call.

“
Hi, sweetheart. I was just having a nice chat with you
r…
young man
,
”
 
she baits me.

I’
ll bet she was. I press the phone into my shoulder, using it to hold the speaker to my ear as I feebly use the corners of the towel to wipe my face free of suds. Once
I’
m sure my eyes are no longer at risk for a God-awful sting, I cautiously open them. Clin
k’
s naked chest is directly in front of me, arms crossed, muscles bulging.

“
Oh, no. Tha
t’
s jus
t…
h
e’s…,
”
 
I think fast, trying to explain the male voice to her.

Clink arches his eyebrow.

“
The landlord
,
”
 
I spit out.
 “
H
e’
s here to fix the shower head. I
t’
s acting up again
.
”

I shrug my shoulders, contorting my face to represent some physical sign of apology, as he rolls his eyes and shakes his head.

“
Really? I thought your landlord was in his seventies? He sounds young
.
”
 
Nothing gets past mom.
 “
I hope w
e’
re still set to have lunch next week. Yo
u’
re not going to cancel on me again, are you
?
”

I purse my lips in a tight smile. If I remember correctly, it was she who cancelled on me the two times before. But, they do
n’
t count,
 “
Nope. Not gonna cancel.
I’
ll be there
.
”

“
Good. I
t’
s been weeks since
I’
ve seen you. You can tell me all about that handsome doctor
.
”

God. I mention that the new ER doc at the hospital asked me for coffee once, and the woman acts as if i
t’
s a full-blown relationship.

“
Sounds good, mom.
I’
ve gotta go, the landlord needs help. See you next week
.
”

I end the call before she has a chance to grill me further. A pool of cooling water is growing around my feet, spreading. I press the buttons to power down the phone, not chancing a return phone call.

The shower is still running, i
t’
s cascading sounds echoing down the hallway. I drop my towel, leaving it to cover the circle of liquid as I return to the open bathroom, where I rinse the remaining lather from my hair and clean myself of any residual body wash. Turning the water off, I shake the large droplets from myself before reaching to the wall hooks to grab another towel.

There is nothing but tile.

What? I pull the plastic shower curtain aside, squinting to help my eyes sift through the rising steam. No towel. The deep throat clearing causes my eyes to dart to the doorframe where Clin
k’
s body rests against the door jamb, ankles crossed, shit-eating grin on his face. His shaggy brown hair lies in place, with that recently-fucked muss to it.

“
Looking for something, Sugar
?
”

You have got to be kidding me. I laugh under my breath. All righty, then.

“
What?
,
”
 
I try to sound innocent.

“
Your landlord
?
”

I smile.
 “
I could have said plumber. Or the cable guy
.
”

He nods, stepping to me.
 “
OK then. If
I’
m your landlord,
I’
ll have to collect the rent. With interest
.
”

Here we go. The familiar thudding in my ears returns. Every time this man looks at me with his chestnut-colored eyes, the way he is now, my heart pounds against my chest, i
t’
s beating coursing through my veins and into my ears. My mouth dries. He has this way of making me feel like a caged bird about to be pounced on by a hungry cat. His darkening eyes look starved for me, I feel it.

His flannel pajama pants hang low on his hips, the sun-tanned, weathered skin of his upper body serving as his canvas, displaying the tattoos that are its masterpiece. His chest is smooth, its rounded mounds speaking out to me. The inked letters and swirls intertwine themselves, each melding into the next, ending just above the deeply set
 “v
”
 
notch near his hip.
I’
ve never been a fan of tattoos before, my mother having brainwashed me early on that only scumbags had tats. But, they look so natural and beautiful on Clin
k’
s body that I ca
n’
t imagine him without them.

I know they have no taste, other than the saltiness of his skin, but damn, whenever I kiss them, I swear I taste a little victory. My own little
 “
fuck yo
u
”
 
to my mom and her bias. I crave them now.

“
How about a little bartering
?
”
 
I wink at him, using my hands to ring my hair of the wetness.

He laughs, reaching for the confiscated towel on the counter top nearest him.
 “
Turn around
.
”

My stomach flips. This is what he does to me. He does
n’
t ask. He never asks. It was a hard pill for me to swallow at first, being commanded about, instructed. But, I quickly learned that it was always in my favor.

I do as
I’
m told and turn my nakedness from him, my ass cheeks now burning under his stare. I
t’
s his favorite part of me, I think, always showered with affection and admiration. He does
n’
t disappoint. I feel his body heat grow closer to my damp flesh, but i
t’
s his hand that makes actual contact first.

Gripping my right cheek, he kneads its plumpness. His hard-earned calluses scratching deliciously against my recently pumiced skin. The drying wetness between our skin attempts to cool the scorching heat of his movements. A loud
 “
smac
k
”
 
reverberates and echoes within the tiled chamber as my skin starts to burn beautifully. He soothes my ass tenderly where his palm left its sting.

I hiss at the sensation, which only serves to encourage him. He crows in self-satisfaction.

“
Tha
t’
s right, Sugar. Feel it
.
”

I close my eyes and let his words wash over me. I feel it, alright. He contradicts the strength of his hand, by gently unfolding the soft towel around my shoulders, lifting the edges of it to my hair and fisting handfuls of my damp locks within the substantial folds of material.

Drop after drop is mopped up, soaking through the fabric as it leaves my body. His hands quickly maneuver over my skin, searching out any remaining wetness. The towel keeps him from me, prevents our bodies from touching. I
t’
s served its purpose and now I need it gone.

I turn to him, his eyes large and dark as they watch. They lower to my heaving chest, nipples pert and peaked, begging to be touched. I hear the muted thud of the towel as it drops, feeling its softness surrounding my feet.

“
There, all dry
,
”
 
I say, stating the obvious.

His pecs jump before my eyes, riddled with muscular tension.
 “
You sur
e‘
bout that
?
”

His finger drops down, tracing its way down my flattened middle, quaking under his touch. He reaches the tiny covering of short curls at my core and his finger slips into them. His hand parts me, making room for himself as he inspects my opening.

I gulp hard, the intrusion always a welcomed one, but nonetheless intense. Every time is intense, never diminishing.

A wicked smile plays out on his lips at his findings.
 “
Did
n’
t think so
.
”

His glistening finger is lifted, offering evidence. The entirety of his wet digit disappears into his waiting mouth, cheeks hollowing as he devours it.

“
Fucking sweet as sugar
.
”

My knees weaken, threatening to buckle. Clink sees me falter and scoops me up in his oversized arms, my legs resting themselves around his hips as he carries me over to the marble vanity, placing me down on its cool, steam-slicked surface.

His strong lips crash down on mine, pinning me back against the mirror as his arms go to work, lowering the elastic waistband of his pants. I manage to free my mouth just enough to speak.

“
W
e’
re gonna be lat
e….
”

He laughs into the skin of my cheek,
 “
Yup
.
”

His thighs press deeper into mine, spreading my hips for him, his dick finding its way to me. The impact jolts me, so I grab onto his shoulders for support. His arm extends to the mirror, bracing himself as his body pushes, filling me.

My eyes roll back,
 “
Maybe just a quicki
e….
”

He thrusts his chin into the crook of my neck, matching the thrust his pelvis makes, but his lips part and teeth latch onto my flesh, words tickling against my skin as they escape.

“
I do
n’
t
do
quick
.
”

******

“
Elizabeth. We could call her Lizzie
,
”
 
I offer.

Li
l’
s looks thoughtfully to the ceiling for a second or two.
 “
Nope
.
”

The room deflates. W
e’
ve been taking turns suggesting names to help her decide for weeks now, to no avail.

“
How about Jay for a boy
?
”
 
Sunny pipes in.

Li
l’
s laughs,
 “
I think one Jay is more than enough for me to handle, thankyouverymuch
.
”

I give up. Sunny nods at Li
l’
s explanation. This is ridiculous. W
e’
ve bought books, phone apps, scoured computer sites galore. Everything we suggest is shot down instantly.