Ice (Regulators MC 1)

As I sit at his daughter’s vanity, while she curls my hair into soft tendrils around my face, I anxiously wonder what tonight will bring. A date with Ice? I can’t imagine. Will we end up at a biker bar? Ride his bike all night long? Go to After Midnight and watch his girls strip?

As much as I love spending time with him, I can’t imagine Brett ‘Ice’ Grady going on a date. That has to be against some sort of rule in the ‘Bad-ass Biker Bible,’ right?

“Are you excited?” Brooke asks me.

I wish I could nod my head, instead of answering, so she wouldn’t hear the nervousness in my voice, but I cannot move since she is still curling my hair.

“Yeah. What do you think your dad is planning, anyways?”

Brooke giggles, and the sound has me looking up in her mirror to see her mischievous eyes glowing. It reminds me of the look Ice gives me when he is feeling playful.

“I’m not telling,” she answers me smugly.

“Brat.”

She rolls her eyes. “Like I haven’t heard that one before. Just remember, when you think you have Dad figured out, he’s always going to do something to prove that you don’t.”

Boy, isn’t that the statement of the century.

“Where’s Madyson?” I ask when I see she is almost finished with my hair.

“Out in the living room, watching TV with Dad.”

“Are you sure you two will be okay here tonight?” I can’t help worrying about my little sister. Although she has come a long way, shadows still plague her eyes, and the nightmares seem to never end.

“Pfft. Do you really think Dad would leave us here alone? One of the boys is probably already here, waiting to start babysitting duty.” She rolls her eyes again. “Because grown men just love to sit around and hear teenage girls talk clothes and make-up.”

I giggle as I wonder which poor soul Ice is torturing tonight. I know it’s not Hammer, because he is still wheelchair bound and never goes anywhere except to his house and the club for business.

Putting the curling iron down on her vanity, Brooke fluffs my hair one last time. “You ready?”

I nod while studying myself in the mirror. My make-up isn’t much darker than what I wear to work, the eye shadow a shimmery golden brown with a thick line of dark brown eyeliner to compliment my green eyes. My lips are painted a satin rose mauve color, and I can’t help wondering what it will look like on Ice’s lips after I give him a kiss sometime later tonight.

I look down to see the white knitted top with a subtle icy glimmer to it. From the top up, I look like the prim and proper Morgan that Ice likes to joke about dirtying up all the time. From the bottom down is a whole different story. I am wearing an over-the-knee black leather pencil skirt paired with wicked crystal-silver and black leather, stiletto-heeled, peep-toe ankle boots.

Morgan and Madyson went shopping with me today, and the minute Madyson spotted the boots, she said I needed them for tonight. She told me, with the rest of the outfit, I would look like a frosty, yet tempting, little She Devil to compliment the man who is as icy as his name.

Looking at my outfit, I have to admit she was right. Now, what will the man I call mine think? It is time to find out.

Walking out of Brooke’s room and down the hall to the living room, the sound of my heels click against the hardwood floor, undoubtedly warning whoever is out there of my impending arrival. When I emerge from the hallway, it is to find Madyson sitting on the couch with Ice while Coal sits in the adjacent chair.

Madyson gives me a huge grin that warms my heart. I haven’t seen her smile in such a way since before she was rescued. I would do anything to see that smile again every day.

Coal smirks at my appearance. “Only you could look like a fairy princess wearing leather, woman.”

“Take your eyes off my woman, jackass,” Ice orders as he gets up from the couch and heads towards me in what is definitely a predatory stalk instead of a normal stride. The heavy muscles throughout his body flex under his tight black T-shirt. His low slung jeans cling to his thick thighs, cupping the erection I can plainly see. With the way he is looking at me, I wonder if we will make it out the door at all.

When he grabs me by my hips, he slowly runs his hands over the leather that clings to me until he is cupping my ass, I can’t help the shiver of arousal that runs through me. The man before me is potent, virile. He makes me want to go to the bedroom and stay in there for days … or weeks. Months even.