Copper (Hell's Handlers MC 4)

He dwarfed her two-person loveseat as he always did. Usually, she made a quip about him breaking the thing or hogging all the space, but tonight she couldn’t muster the energy for jokes.

Her options were a recliner or the itty-bitty space left on the loveseat. She started for the recliner, the safer option, but Copper shook his head and pointed to the small space next to him. Since an argument was already on the agenda, she didn’t bother heaping more shit on the pile by defying him, and wedged herself in between the armrest and his solid body, sitting cross-legged and facing him. Immediately, warmth flowed from his thigh into her knees and throughout her entire body.

Why?

Why did he have to have this intoxicating effect on her? Why, even after all these years of unrequited feelings, could she not shake the all-consuming hold he had on her heart?

Copper blew out a long breath and bent his head away from her, cracking his neck. “I’m trying here, Shell. Really fucking trying to understand why that piece of shit was at your house. And I’m trying to do it without losing my shit.” One hand held his beer and the other rested on the armrest, his fingers curling around the edge so hard he just might tear the worn, tan fabric.

He turned his head and met her gaze. When he eyed her like that, like he wanted to slay her dragons, banish her demons, and destroy anything that would cause her a moment of distress, she was utterly and completely lost in his spell. Of course, there was a healthy chance the meaning behind it was all in her mind. Still, it worked.

Shell sighed. “I’ll tell you, Copper,” she said in a small voice as shame washed over her. She was an adult. She should be able to handle her own problems without the club coming to her rescue far too often. They shouldn’t even be aware of her issues.

“Fuckin’ finally,” he fired back. “And you can start with what the hell you were thinking parading yourself in front of that shit-bird dressed like that.” Gone was the concern and compassion, replaced by stormy eyes and a furious tone.

Shell glanced down, and if it were any other time, she’d have burst out laughing. Clad in a pair of tight black leggings and a fitted lavender V-neck sweater, there wasn’t a damn thing inappropriate about her outfit.

Copper’s anger was clearly melting his brain.

CHAPTER SIX

COPPER FOCUSED ON the action of swallowing his beer to keep himself from wringing Shell’s neck like he really wanted to.

Sip, taste, swallow, breathe, repeat.

Dark smudges dwelt under each of her eyes, she wore mismatching socks, and he’d have sworn she swayed on her feet before going to get their drinks. The woman looked seconds away from collapsing due to exhaustion. Last thing she needed was his pissed-off ass riding her in his customary demanding manner.

Riding her ass.

Shit.

Now he had that visual in his head. Which brought him right back around that damn outfit.

Shell glanced down at her clothes before lifting her frowning face. “Dressed like this? Copper, have you lost your mind? Aside from being cold because I wasn’t wearing a jacket, what is wrong with this?”

He ran his hand down his face and scratched at his beard. The beard he’d cleaned that evening before paying her a visit. Not because he knew she liked it close-trimmed. Just because it was getting unruly as he tended to let happen. “Jesus woman, those pants are too fucking tight.”

She screwed up her face, looking truly confused. “What? They’re black leggings. They’re tight. That’s what leggings are. You feeling okay?”

Yeah, sure, they were supposed to be tight, but were they supposed to hug her curvy ass in that way that made men think of one thing and one thing only? And that would be bending her over the closest flat surface, grabbing those round hips, and watching said ass jiggle as they fucked her from behind.

Shit.

“Well, your tits are showing too. And that man is the furthest thing from honorable.” Michelle wasn’t a twig. She’d had a kid for fuck’s sake. Her body had taken on that softer quality women hated about themselves, but men loved to sink their fingers into. At least the men he knew. Michelle had always had a bangin’ body, even at eighteen and nineteen when she was more skinny than curvy, but now, now she was one hundred percent woman and so fucking enticing he was hard in her presence more often than not.

Speaking of… Copper grabbed a throw pillow and placed it over his lap.

Thankfully, Shell didn’t seem to notice. She was too busy staring at him with a gaping mouth. “My tits are showing?” Glancing down again, she snorted. “Copper, it’s a V-neck sweater. You can see about a millimeter of my cleavage. What the hell is wrong with you? You live at the clubhouse and are practically drowning in tits every day. This is nothing.”