Blood & Bone - Easy (Blood Fury MC 12)

He flicked the lid closed on his lighter and tucked it away while taking a long draw on the hand-rolled before blowing a stream of smoke out of his nose.

Like Tessa, he folded an arm under his head and got comfortable.

They said nothing for the longest time. Simply swayed back and forth with their bodies touching and their minds wandering.

It was actually nice.

Surprisingly soothing.

Better yet, it was starting to settle her crazy stomach.

But being sandwiched tightly against him was disturbing other parts of her body. The ache in her breasts was back. And like Brandy, tonight Tessa’s pussy had Easy’s name written all over it.

One thing she would never do was fight over a man. Not with a sweet butt. Not with anyone.

It didn’t matter anyway, since they owed each other nothing. Something she had to keep reminding herself over and over after finding his door locked Sunday night.

She shifted enough so she was almost on her side and where she could see him a little better, even in the dark.

Watching him smoke was more mesmerizing than it should be. The way his lips wrapped around the end, the way he inhaled, the way his lips pursed when he blew the smoke back out in a white stream.

One side of his mouth lifted even though he wasn’t looking at her but staring somewhere above. He liked her studying him.

He liked her attention.

He liked that she had made room for him in the hammock.

Fuck. She liked him, too. Way more than she should.

Was she doomed? Would this man be her downfall?

She squeezed her eyes closed for a second.

He possibly could be.

She had been trying to avoid that. Obviously, she failed. She had stepped in a steel trap, the bite of the metal teeth clamping around her ankle. Holding her there. Keeping her from getting free.

Yes, she had slammed her foot down right in the center of that spring-loaded trap, triggering it without even knowing it was there until it was too late.

She broke the silence. “You locked your door.” Even though she tried to keep the disappointment and hurt from her tone, it was there, coating each and every damn word.

He took one more hit of the hand-rolled, then flicked what was left out into the dark beyond the edge of the pavilion. “You said that earlier. My door’s been unlocked every fuckin’ night, Tess.”

“Not Sunday night.”

He shifted to his side until they faced each other. Their noses just inches apart and everything else so, so not. From chest to feet they touched. He wasn’t fully erect, but with what was pressed against her she could tell he was already halfway there.

“Always lock it when I’m gone. Didn’t get back from Jersey ’til early Monday mornin’ so, of fuckin’ course it was locked. Otherwise, I’d come back to find all my good Kush replaced with trash weed. All kinds of bullshit done to my room, too. Like plastic wrap over my fuckin’ toilet bowl, or a dead mouse in my bed. Even rotten food hidden somewhere. Forgot to lock it a few times and regretted it every damn time. Didn’t lock it to keep you out, Tess. Locked it to keep those connivin’ assholes out.”

She was more relieved by his explanation than she should be. “You guys prank each other?” Why didn’t she know this?

Easy only stared at her like she was clueless.

“I’ve never heard about it.”

He shrugged. “It happens.”

She pressed her lips together to keep from laughing and caught herself.

Why couldn’t she let herself laugh?

Why couldn’t she allow herself to be happy? She needed to stop denying herself.

“How many times have you done it to one of the other guys?”

“You really gotta ask?” He shot her a smile.

Holy fucking shit.

She couldn’t remember him ever smiling at her before. If he had, it had never been big enough that she could see it in his dark, windowless room late at night.

She focused on his lips. Without warning, they went from curled upward at the corners to pressed flat.

“Tess,” he whispered, drawing her eyes from his mouth back to the rest of his face.

She wished she could see him better. Where the hammock hung in the shadows, on the side of the pavilion farthest from The Barn’s exterior lights, it wasn’t pitch black but dark enough.

Reaching out, she brushed her fingers over his hair, loosening some of the strands. He captured her hand and pulled it to his mouth, pressing his lips to her palm. The very tip of his tongue touched the center and his breath warmed her skin.

The gesture was so damn intimate.

But when he drew her palm over the wiry hairs along his jaw and down to his chest and under his cut, where he interlocked their fingers and pressed their hands over his heart, she knew something had changed.