Sugar (The Henchmen MC 12)

But that was what I was trying to get out of him.

"Didn't imagine you would," he agreed, letting me save my pride even though he absolutely knew I had. "You know you're a great fuck, Peyt," he added, hand moving down my neck. "Figure that goes without saying, but I'm saying it."

"You're a pretty great fuck too, Sugar," I told him, sliding up his lap, my arms winding around his neck. Then, the unthinkable, my lips pressing down on his.

I didn't make out with men after I had already gotten my jollies.

That was a thing of intimacy.

I didn't get intimate.

But there was no denying it was that as his hands closed around me, as his head tilted, as I sighed into him.

Intimate.

And it wasn't what I expected - scary or strange or suffocating.

It was something else, something other, something I couldn't put a name on.

But it was warm.

It was warm, and it started at the base of my spine and moved upward, through my chest and heart, my throat, my head. It overtook me completely.

A sound, low, whimpering made its way through me as well, vibrated from my body into his. At the sound, his arms tightened around me, gave me a squeeze that made my belly go all mushy.

Mushy.

I couldn't be mushy.

Mushy was dangerous.

I couldn't do dangerous.

I had to do careful.

It was foreign freaking territory for me.

No one would ever accuse me of being careful.

But I had to at least try.

I pulled back, reaching for his phone.

"Unlock it," I demanded.

He didn't ask.

He didn't even pause.

He reached for it, plugged in a passcode, and handed it to me.

"Let's see who you are buddies with, shall we?" I asked, shamelessly opening his contacts and attempting to scroll through. But there were no contacts. "How do you have no one in your contacts?"

"Crazy thing you learn when you're a criminal, you don't link yourself with other criminals that can be used against you."

"So you... what? Just know everyone's numbers by heart? That must be at least two dozen people with your brothers and their wives."

"Something like that," he agreed with a nod. "Plus the Chinese and pizza places in town," he added.

"You think with your stomach," I accused.

"Says the woman who ate three helpings of that bomb ass pasta shit last night."

"I have learned to wear elastic banded pants to Sunday dinners," I admitted.

"Sunday dinners?" he asked.

"Oh, at the Mallicks. Charlie and Helen's house? It's tradition. My sister is with Eli."

"Yeah, I know."

"And, I don't know... I guess they kind of adopted me."

"Of course they did," he agreed, snagging my chin for a second. "How jealous should I be of these dinners?"

"Pea-green with envy," I told him, smiling as he groaned. "This weekend is Italian. I have to go early to bake desserts with the women."

"Smuggle me out a cannoli."

"Only if you come up with three cannoli innuendos by then. I will give you my number," I said, reaching for my phone.

"What are you doing?"

"Calling you, so you have my number in your log to call back."

"Just add yourself to my contacts," he said. Casually. Without thinking about it. Like it was the most natural thing, this man who didn't keep anyone in his contacts. Not even his best friend.

"I get to be a part of a lot of firsts for you. Your wine cork virginity. Your phone contact virginity."

"Quit running your mouth, and put your information in there already," he said, doing it with one of those slow, sexy smiles of his.

"Oh, you sweet-talker, you."

"What time do you get out of Sunday dinner?"

"Depends. Everyone with kids tend to file out early. Sometimes me and the Rivers hang back to help clean up, or just bullshit."

"How about you skip the bullshitting?"

"And do what instead? I do like bullshitting," I added, it being true, but also, for some reason, wanting him to talk me into seeing him as I climbed off his lap and dropped down next to him.

"Well, then bullshit with me," he suggested, shrugging. "After I fuck you silly," he added, slowly curling up, fetching his clothes, and shrugging back into them.

"I guess I could be persuaded with that incentive," I said coyly as I watched him bend to slip his boots on, feeling a big - okay a huge - knot in my stomach at the idea of him leaving. Even if that was crazy.

"Good. I'll text you," he added, reaching to take his phone out of my hands and tuck it into his back pocket. I thought that was that, but then he snagged my chin, pulled me until I went up on my knees, and kissed me hard and deep for a long moment before releasing me, and moving toward the door. "If you forget the cannoli, I'll bring you to the edge ten times... and not let you come," he warned me in parting, closing the door quietly on his way out.