Lock You Down (Rivers Brothers 2)

"What's the verdict on the car sex?" I asked, watching as she slid away, fetching her panties and pants, awkwardly maneuvering them back on in the limited space.

"It was worth the wait," she admitted, giving me a triumphant smile, her cheeks still pink. They'd stay like that for a while. They always did.

"Anywhere else you've wanted to fuck?" I asked, tossing the condom in a convenient plastic-lined garbage bin that was attached to the back of the console, already half full with granola bar wrappers--for her--and mini chip bags--for me.

"Hmm," she said, mulling it over. "Outside."

"Where outside?"

"Anywhere outside. The woods. A back deck. On the beach."

"Heads up on the beach," I said, smirk pulling up, "you get sand in places. Places you don't want sand."

"Ouch," she said, grimacing.

"Yeah," I agreed.

"Oh, I have one."

"Yeah?"

"Like... a bathroom at a party. A social event kind of thing. You know... you never know who might happen by," she added, eyes dancing.

"You dirty exhibitionist, you," I teased, slapping her ass hard as she climbed up between the two front seats, slipping into the passenger.

"You love it," she shot back, pulling down the mirror to fix her hair.

See, the thing was, I did.

It was early. I didn't believe you could love someone right away. Not in the way that mattered anyway. The deep way. You could love the shallow parts of someone quickly. But that wasn't what I wanted.

I wanted what all the Mallick men had with their women, what Kingston had with Savea.

So, no, I wasn't deeply in love with Reagan.

But there was something there. An inkling of something bigger to come.

It should have terrified me.

I should have been running scared.

I'd never been interested in romance shit and happily ever afters. Even though I had seen it many times over in the people around me. It didn't seem likely for me.

But then there she was.

Someone who thought my inability to hold my tongue amusing, who gave it back to me just as bad as I gave it to her, who somehow found me charming.

I don't think I realized how certain I had been that such a person didn't exist before. Or that I had based my entire belief system on love and relationships and 'the long run' on that mistaken idea.

But she was here now.

I knew there was a lot of work to be done, a lot of dismantling of old thought patterns.

But I knew it down to my fucking marrow that she was worth all that, that what we had growing, it was something with deep roots, something you could really lean on once it got some seasons in.

Yeah, it was too soon to be in love, but there was no denying as I climbed into the driver's seat, as my hand reached out to close over her knee, as she gave me one of those big smiles of hers, that it was starting.

I should have been fucking terrified.

But I had never felt more certain, more sure of anything ever before.----"Absolutely fucking not."

I could tell this was not a very well-received comment among the many women in the room, the kind of women who did not take kindly to a man telling them they couldn't--or shouldn't--do something.

We were inside Hailstorm, a place I'd heard endless stories about, but had never been anywhere near before.

I'd seen it up on the hill, of course, since it was impossible to miss a giant gated, barbed-wire compound with solar panels and arms guards, the structure itself made entirely of shipping containers. It wasn't the kind of place you overlooked.

That said, because of the guards with their AK-47s, you knew it was not the place you went for a casual picnic.

But we'd set up an appointment, we'd gone through the security check-point, we were led inside by a somber-faced man with a buzzcut and a prosthetic arm.

We were walked through the seemingly never-ending tunnels of rooms, no windows, no way to get our bearings.

Until, finally, we were ushered into a container room that was set up much like a typical conference room - long table lined with chairs, a large screen TV for conference calls, a whiteboard for discussing ideas, a pitcher of water in the center with cucumbers and lemons floating inside.

All we got was a head jerk toward the seats, directing us to sit down beside each other as he left, the door slamming behind him.

Then we waited. And waited. And waited.

Until finally the door opened once again, ushering in Hailstorm's fearless leader. A woman who went by the name Lo, she was tall and fit with blond hair and an assessing gaze, moving over the two of us until we both felt like we'd been through an X-ray machine, like she knew all our insides.

Following behind her were three other women and two men, all moving to settle around the table, sitting in silence as we filled them in on the story, on the plan.