Page 47 of Sweet Pea

I grabbed the sides of Sweet Pea’s face and kissed him deeper than I’d ever kissed a man. My desire to not only be with him, but somehow be a part of him, caused my insides to burn. At that moment, I felt closer and more connected to Sweet Pea than ever before. Even when we were having sex. And that was the best sex I’d ever had.

“What was that?” Sweet Pea asked, clearly as shocked by the moment as I was.

“Can I be one hundred percent honest with you?” I asked, terrified he’d say yes.

“Yes.”

I looked to Sweet Pea’s eyes, my arms around his neck, and said, “I have no idea why I’m here.”

“Aw. You know just what to say to a guy,” he replied with a smile and gave me a kiss.

“I’m serious. I’m a family lawyer with the D.A.’s office and you’re...”

“An ex-criminal biker,” Sweet Pea completed my sentence.

“To put it nicely, yes. My association with you could get me into some hot water. Possibly even disbarred.”

“So why are you here? Why take the risk?”

“I think maybe I’m rebelling,” I replied.

“Rebelling against who?”

“Whom,” I corrected. “I’ve been thinking a lot about that lately, and I think it’s not so much a whom as it is a what.”

“Look, if you’ve got some kind of Abbot and Costello routine worked out here, I’d rather take you back to the bedroom.”

“Stop it, I’m being serious.”

“I’m sorry, go on.”

“I’ve been unhappy at my job for a while and losing the Knight case, or more importantly how poorly I handled it, has really shown me exactly how unhappy. I want to leave the D.A.’s office, but I’m not sure what to do next, and that terrifies me. I’m used to a certain degree of control in my life, and I think I’ve been using you to distract me from the fact that things are very much out of control.”

Sweet Pea put his dimples on full display and took my chin in his hand.

“I’m happy to be your distraction and even happier to know we really do have a lot in common.”

“Really?”

“You have no idea.”

* * *

Sweet Pea

“Let’s just say, I relateto you about being a control freak,” I said sitting us down on the leather sofa next to Red Dog’s custom Harley Bobber.

“I never said freak,” Callie protested.

“Okay, how about positive outcome enthusiast?”

“I like that a lot better,” she said with a smile. “But I wouldn’t have pegged you as a member of the club. You always seem so relaxed.”

“That’s the idea,” I said.

“So, you’re saying this is all an act?”

“No. Not an act. More like armor. If I act like shit can’t get to me, shit doesn’t tend to get to me, that’s all.”

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