Page 79 of Lucky Strike

Tristan wasn’t around so I called Finn and had him tail me to the garage where I met up with Angel. The story was this: the two Blades Angel caught working with the Sokolovs last month were punished and demoted. But they’re still connected, so they still talk. They finally admitted that the Russians were working with somebody else, someone big who’s got beef with the syndicate. With my family specifically.

I’ve been turning it over and over in my head, trying to see it from every angle, but I’ve got nothing. I need to talk to my brother. Better yet, my father. He and Mom are due back on Sunday; maybe then we can figure out this bullshit before it intensifies.

The stove light is on in the kitchen, and when I check the microwave, I find a bowl of chili waiting to be reheated. There’s salad and a hunk of garlic bread on the counter. Shelby and Bacon wander into the kitchen, tails wagging as they stretch sleepily.

My stomach rumbles, but first I go upstairs to check on Liam. His night-light is on when I peek in, but his bed is empty, shooting a nasty jolt of alarm through my chest. I peek out the door, glancing down the hallway, and sure enough Bria’s bedroom door is slightly ajar. Rubbing my chest, I walk over and look into her room.

I can’t see him at first, but as I round the edge of the bed, I find him curled up into Bria, taking up so much space that one of her arms hangs off the side. I don’t want to rouse him, but Bria’s with this kid all day. She deserves some space at night, at the very least. Plucking Liam up, Icarry him back to his room and tuck him into his own bed. He mumbles before rolling over with a small sigh.

And then, even though I’m hungry and tired, I return to Bria's room. She's still bunched up on the edge of the bed, the curls that have escaped her braid framing her face. I watch her for a moment, the way the moonlight plays over her features. It feels normal to have her here now, like we’re picking up where we left off years ago. Long, quiet conversations in the dark. Sharing our thoughts, our worries. Our bodies. My dick stirs at the thought. We’ve only been together a few times, but I can’t stop thinking about it.

After dinner I take a long shower in an effort to relax, to shut off my brain. In the past I’d take care of things myself or maybe text a hookup, but I don’t want just sex. I want Bria. I want the way she touches me, the way she looks at me. I’m fully aware that I’m taking advantage of her proximity, but after what went down at the beach house, I’m pretty sure she wants me as much as I want her.

That’s what I tell myself, anyway, when I open her door again. Without a second thought, I sit beside her, touching her hair, the fullness of her cheek. The almost-full moon beams down through the skylights overhead, washing the room in a gauzy blue.

"Lucky?" She stirs after a moment, her voice thick with sleep.

"Hey.” I lean over to kiss her temple. “Just wanted to let you know I’m home. I put the bed hog back in his room.”

She smiles into her pillow, eyes closed. “He is a little bed hog.”

“You have a good day?”

“Mhm.”

“You miss me?”

Another smile. “A little.”

“I missed you,” I admit.

Rolling onto her side, Bria peels back the covers so I can slip beneath them. She’s warm and soft, and she smells like the lotion she puts on Liam after his bath. We look at each other for a moment, just breathing. “Is everything okay?” she asks eventually.

“I don’t know.”

She strokes my hair away from my face. “Tell me.”

“Every time I think I might be onto something, a new detail pops up and I realize I don’t know shit.” I pause, realizing I feel that way about acouple of things, not just what’s happening with the Bratva. “I don’t know how my dad does this.”

“I’m sure it’s difficult for him, too.”

“Doesn’t seem like it.”

“He’s strong for you, like you’re strong for Liam.”

“You know you’re too good for me, right?” I roll Bria onto her back, hovering over her. “You’re too good for all of this.”

“Yeah, I’m a real saint,” she says, smirking.

“But I can’t let you go.” The truth of it sinks in, making me feel a little desperate. “I think about you all the time.”

“I think about you, too, Lucky,” she whispers, pulling me down.

I give in and kiss her, finally finding the comfort and distraction I need in the sweetness of her mouth. I love how she touches me, her hands slipping under my t-shirt, her fingertips running up and down my back. How she runs her fingers through my hair, holding me close as we kiss. Pulling back, I drag her pajamas and her panties off, and slip my fingers between the soft, wet lips of her pussy. She arches up with a quiet moan, all sleepiness gone as she acquiesces to my touch.

Rubbing my thumb in circles over her clit, I drag my mouth to her throat, knowing how much she loves that. Sure enough, she gasps, her grip on me tightening. I suck on the tender spot beneath her ear, using my teeth, and seconds later she’s coming, riding my hand like she wishes it was something else.

Yanking down my sweatpants, I fit myself between her thighs. She tips up her hips and I slip inside, a tropical storm sucking me into its vortex. We kiss, deep and wet, our mouths coalescing, a hungry clash of tongues and teeth. I bury my face in her neck, grinding into her, and she wraps her arms around me, barely letting me move, she’s so tight. It’s too good. I’m too worked up, too close, and I pull out with a guttural groan, spilling all over her belly.

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