Rocket (Hell's Handlers MC 5)

He gave her hand one last squeeze before releasing her. “Come on.” He stood and dropped a twenty on the table. “I’ll walk you to your car.”

The tense set of her shoulders relaxed at his offer.

Once outside, he threaded his fingers through hers. As before, she flinched at first but slowly relaxed by degrees into his innocuous touch. The pressure-free caresses and handholds were all part of his master plan. Baby steps. She was like a wounded animal. Humans often reacted similarly to animals following trauma. While overseas in Iraq, one of his Marine brothers found an abandoned dog that had once been severely abused. At first the mutt snarled and snapped whenever they went near. Over time, with treats and soft words, the old boy let him and his team creep closer. It took months, but eventually they were able to pet him, and one of his brothers in arms finagled permission to return the dog to the states.

His strategy with Chloe was much the same. Get her used to a man’s touch in a safe way. Maybe then, once she no longer reacted with fear, he’d finally be absolved of the guilt that had settled in his gut the moment he saw her beaten and brutalized. And maybe he could shake the iron grip she seemed to have on his balls.

“Thank you,” she said turning to him.

The gratitude was for more than accompanying her to her car. He nodded. “Trust me, every second of this evening has been my pleasure.” He stepped closer to her. Then closer still, until his body was flush against hers. What he wanted to do was crowd her against her car, but he didn’t want her to feel trapped or forced into anything.

“W-what are you doing?” she asked as she lifted her hands to his chest, neither pushing him away nor pulling him closer. Did she even know which action she preferred?

“Friday’s a long way away. That’s six nights I have to lie in my bed remembering the taste of your pussy, the feel of it on my cock, and the way your tits felt in my mouth. Six nights of remembering and not being able to do a goddamn thing about it. Give me one more memory to add to my list. One more thing to torture myself with. Give me something I haven’t had yet.” As he spoke, he moved in until his lips where brushing hers with every word spoken.

He paused with nothing but millimeters separating them. She had to give the final okay.

“Yes,” Chloe breathed.

That was all he needed to claim her mouth with a hunger that had been building for months. She was sweet, thanks to the pie, and warm from two cups of coffee. Her small whimper allowed him to deepen the kiss, slipping his tongue into her mouth. As he absorbed her flavor, she finally decided what to do with her hands. Those fingers curled into the fabric of his T-shirt and held on for dear life.

He fisted his hands at his side, fighting the urge to fully crush her to him. Making her feel trapped or reminding her of her nightmares wasn’t an option. Rocket absorbed every sensation, the soft brush of her nose as it bumped his. Her curious tongue tangling with his and making him want nothing more than to feel it stroking the length of his dick. The near purr vibrating from the back of her throat when he nipped her bottom lip. Each and every sensation ramped up his need to have her hard, fast, and with screaming satisfaction.

One day soon. He could feel it in his bones. He’d get her there. Back to the woman she was before his club’s business destroyed her life.

Maybe then he could move past this obsession and get on with his fucking life.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

ROCKET SLID THE heavy ladder into the bed of his pick-up then wiped his sweaty brow with the hem of his filthy T-shirt. These days, he didn’t do nearly as much of the manual labor as he used to—owning the company had some perks—but there were certain things his anal-retentive self had never been able to completely relinquish control of. And one of those tasks was checking over every damn inch of the work before any type of inspection. He tended to whip out his fine-toothed comb afterhours to avoid raising his men’s hackles. He trusted them to do quality work, wouldn’t have hired them otherwise, but it was his name on the business card, and he’d be damned if he didn’t stand behind every nail and screw.

His need for perfection was the reason he was at a jobsite by himself on a Saturday afternoon. Monday, a city inspector would be coming by to ensure the gas hook-ups had been installed properly in the massive kitchen of a restaurant his crew was renovating. Before the inspector came out, Rocket wanted one last peek at the work so there would be no surprises come Monday morning. As he’d expected, everything was perfect. He only hired the best and most meticulous of workers.