Joy (Hell's Handlers MC 7)

Literally.

And he’d be willing to give it to her all night if that’s what it’d take to unwind and relax her. Hell, maybe she’d even laugh and start to enjoy his company. Most people thought he was a trip.

Not that liking each other was a requirement of a good fucking. Sometimes, the best fucks were born of mutual hatred.

He blinked, nearly having missed his cue as she opened her car door. Dragging her feet as though she was exhausted, Jazz meandered toward the short walkway leading to her front door.

The moment her boot hit the concrete, Screw pressed a button on his phone—everything worked via fucking Bluetooth these days—and Jazz’s entire house lit up with the hundreds of colorful lights he’d strung all around.

“What the…” She stepped back, gaze roaming over the front of her home. A laugh of delight bubbled out of her as her hand flew up to her mouth.

That sound, that unfiltered bit of happiness had Screw freezing in place. Had he ever heard that honest pleasure from Jazz? Sure, she had fun with her girlfriends, even with his brothers, and she knew how to enjoy herself, but she’d always come off as guarded to him. Constantly protecting herself by remaining somewhat aloof.

Something shifted inside him. An unfamiliar ache formed in his chest at the thought of her going home to an empty house so close to Christmas.

And every other day.

Not that he really knew for sure she went home alone. For all he knew, she had a man or two on the side. He frowned as the ache in his chest twisted into an ugly ball of…something. Certainly not jealousy because he didn’t know the meaning of the fucking word.

Fuck, the cold was killing off his brain cells. Time to get this show on the road.

To focus on the fuck instead of whatever the hell had short-circuited in his mind.

Jazz glanced around as though suddenly realizing someone had to be responsible for the decorations to her home.

“Screw,” she said as their gaze connected, voice falling flat.

So much for instant gratitude and thanks via sex. No matter, he wasn’t above working for it.

He shot her the grin that tended to leave a trail of panties in its wake. Part cocky, part playful, part inviting, but all promise of sexual satisfaction. “Hey, gorgeous.”

She looked absolutely adorable with a long black quilted jacket, a gray wool scarf around her neck, and a matching hat topped off with a fuzzy poof. The tip of her slender nose had already turned pink from just a few moments in the cold. Hopefully, it wouldn’t be long before she invited him in, though he wouldn’t mind having to warm her ass up.

“Did you do this?”

He nodded.

She gazed back at her house. He’d hung lights all along the roof, through a row of bushes across the front of her house, and in the two trees she had on her front lawn. “Must have taken you all day.”

“Nah, not too long.”

Six hours.

When she turned back to him, her smile had disappeared, and her mind seemed to be running on overtime. “Why’d you do this?” Still no pleasure in her voice.

Why had he done it? Well, that was easy. He tilted his head and waggled his eyebrows at her.

Jazz laughed. She continued laughing until she realized he hadn’t joined her. Then her eyes bugged. “You’re serious?”

“About what?”

With a wave of her gloved hand, she indicated the house behind her. “This. All this. You seriously spent your day hanging Christmas lights on my house just so I would sleep with you?”

“Ah, no. I was not angling for any sleeping here. But I was hoping for a few solid hours of fucking. Maybe one hour for every hour I spent decorating your house.” Sounded like a pretty fair trade-off to him.

Jazz pinched the bridge of her nose. “Jesus, you’re something else.”

“Thank you.”

“That’s not a good thing.” Now that the shock was gone, her voice had flattened yet again. “I don’t get you, Screw.” She threw up her hands, then paced five steps away before walking back toward him. “Why go through all this trouble just for sex? It’s not like you’re hard up. You get laid more than anyone I know.”

He frowned. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.” Who the hell didn’t like sex?

“Can you be serious for one minute? Like, give me sixty seconds of your time where you’re not mouthing off some smartass remark or trying to get me naked.”

He had nothing to say to that. Sure, she’d been turning him down at every pass, and he’d been laying it on thick, but he’d thought that was part of the fun. Part of their game. This cat and mouse foreplay thing they had going.

“I’m not going to sleep with you, Screw.”

Apparently, he’d been dead wrong. “I already said—”