“Gray?”
“Who else?” I strip off my clothes and slide the shower door open.
Serena jumps and wraps her arms around her body.
I frown at her reaction. “What’s wrong?”
“You startled me.”
I step in and slide the door shut, reaching for her. “Come here.”
“Don’t you have to go?”
“I’ve got time. Come here and let me say good morning properly.”
That finally unlocks her tension. She curls her arms around me, rubbing her slick, wet skin against mine. “That’s better, buttercup.”
She reaches between us and wraps her hand around my already hard cock, squeezing and stroking.
My thoughts fizzle and I groan. “That’s not why I came in here.”
“No?” She works her thumb against the most sensitive spot. My cock throbs, wanting inside her.
I dig my fingers into her hips and urge her to turn around. Her body resists. Her grip tightens. “I want to do this.” She presses a kiss against my chest.
How am I supposed to say no? I groan and shift my hips forward, chasing her touch. I curl one arm around her and brace my other against the shower door. My gaze drops to her hand slowly sliding and giving a quick twist at the end. Over and over, until my vision blurs at the edges.
My climax builds to an almost painful degree. The urge to spin her around and bury myself inside her fights my body’s need for immediate release. She kisses my chest again and my eyes open. She stares up at me, her eyes deeper than the night sky. Her hand squeezes a little harder, and I come in rough jerks against the cushion of her hip.
“Fuck,” I groan, my knees weakening. I keep my arm wrapped around her so we both don’t end up on the shower floor.
I breathe a long sigh of relief. My eyes blink open. The rush of the shower, the whir of the fan, everything returns to me slowly.
“Thank you, buttercup.” I lean down and smash my lips against hers. She smiles against my lips.
After a second or two, she pulls away and turns toward the water.
“Let me do that.” I grab the soap from her hand and lather it over her body.
“I was almost finished anyway,” she protests. “Don’t you have to go?”
Fuck, I’m supposed to be getting my head on straight for this meeting. “Yeah,” I answer slowly. “But you know I’d rather be here with you, right?”
Rock, Wrath, Z, and I arrive at Remy’s bar an hour before the meeting’s set to take place.
Murphy, Teller, and Dex already got here a few minutes ahead of us. Murphy walks over to Rock’s SUV to introduce Remy.
“Thanks for letting us use your place,” Rock says, quickly shaking Remy’s hand.
“Anytime.” Remy lifts his chin at me. “Hey, Grinder.” He nods to Wrath and Z. His eyes widen as Rooster’s big, diesel pickup rumbles into the parking lot. Steer and Jigsaw should be with him.
“Come on inside.” Remy sweeps his arm toward the one story, square shaped box of a building behind us. Inside, the place is nice. A warm, homey, unpretentious bar with wide-plank floors, a long gleaming L-shaped bar, a few booths along one wall, and a bunch of tables scattered in the middle. The far wall has a long table in the corner with a bench on one side and chairs on the other.
“That’ll give you the most privacy.” Remy points to the corner table. “Table isn’t bolted to the floor or anything. Anyone starts shooting, you can just flip it over and take cover.” He slaps Murphy’s shoulder. “Right?”
Murphy slowly drops his gaze to Remy and holds out his fist to tap knuckles with him. “Yeah.”
“Hopefully, there won’t be any shoot-outs this afternoon.” Rock scans the bar. It’s one big open room. To our left, a short hallway with an Exit sign above it. “Restrooms that way?” he asks Remy.
“Yup. Exit too. Last door leads to the basement. It has special accommodations if you’re in need of that today.”
Murphy smirks.
Rock and Wrath walk through the bar, checking everything out.
“You close the place for us?” Z asks Remy.
“Nah, it’s slow during the day. That’s why it’s just me right now. Bar’s stocked though, so anything you want, let me know.”
We all end up placing drink orders. More as a way to be able to drop a generous tip as a thank you, than to quench our thirst.
I take a seat at the table in the back. Rock slides in on my right, Z on my left.
Remy drops off our drinks.
Wrath settles his big frame at the corner of the bar where he can watch the door.
A few minutes later, Remy lifts his chin at me. “Black Escalade and a Mercedes G-Class just pulled into the parking lot.”
“That’s gotta be them,” Wrath says.
A slight current of tension runs through all of us. Rock squares his shoulders and pushes the table out a few inches. Rooster moves closer to Z’s side.