I felt his gaze track every inch of my body as I ducked behind the bar and scooped up my woman.
God, she was made for my fucking arms, and my face found a home in her neck, her scent gifting me just a hint of the calm I so desperately needed.
“Put me down, you fool.”
“Make me.”
Orla drove her elbow into my ribs, a warning, not a true hit.
But I set her down all the same. I was stressed, not stupid.
She turned in my hold and kissed me as if we were alone, not surrounded by a hundred burly brothers. Whistles and catcalls reached my ears, but I ignored them. I ignored everything except Orla’s hot mouth on mine and the heat of Locke’s stare.
The kiss ended. Orla went back to work, and I moved to where Locke stood at the end of the bar.
I wanted to kiss him too.
So much.
I settled for a bro hug, but he was a better man than me, and the fleeting brush of his lips at the hollow behind my ear left me reeling—wrecked—by the lightest touch. “You fucker.”
Locke made a sound that might’ve been a low laugh, but in the noisy bar, it was hard to tell. Also, he didn’t look at me, which I appreciated as it kept Orla safe, but fuck if I didn’t miss those sea-green eyes stripping me bare.
I want him to fuck me.
Hardly a new revelation, but as trapped by circumstance as I was by my own head, it was a lot. Ilovedwatching Locke with Orla. The careful way he fucked her. The respect. The reverence, but if our time ever came, I kinda wanted him toruinme.
Damn, it was hot in here.
“You okay?”
Locke’s deep voice made me jump.
“Hmm?”
A warm hand ghosted over my hip, rough fingers finding bare skin. “Nash.”
“What?”
“You’re shaking.”
“No, I’m not.” Not on the outside, but if he was going to touch me like that, I reserved the right to quietly fall apart on the inside. “It’s you. I wish I could walk in here and throw you against the wall too.”
“I wouldn’t stop you.”
“No?”
“I wasn’t bullshitting you when I said I like everything. Context, baby.”
Fucking A. If my imagination had been full before I’d walked in here, it was overflowing now. “I’m riding out soon. Don’t know when I’ll be back. Maybe you guys should stay here tonight.”
“She got her period.”
“Shit. Okay.” Locke didn’t need to explain. Orla was an endo warrior. Her periods were terrible sometimes, and when they were bad, the clubhouse residence with its shared bathroom and zero privacy was the last place she wanted to be. “Take an army home with you then.”
“Already loaded.” Locke jabbed a thumb at the crew of brothers who hadn’t ventured into the bar. Instead, they loitered around firepits, drinking coffee instead of beer, ready and waiting to defend our queen. “Folk’s coming back too.”
“Thought he was on holiday?”
