Page 9 of Rough Patch

“Fiona, I’ll handle it.” She loved the amount of authority he could summon. Usually, he only did it in the bedroom, and not at all recently, but the tone, the confidence, the command all warmed her inside. He stood and turned to put her in the chair, then crouched in front of her and removed her heels. Shoes she would happily toss off the top of the tallest building in town. He cradled her calf for an extra moment before he let her leg down. “Better?”

“Yeah.” Somehow, he managed to make everything better. She smiled and ran her finger along his jaw. Maybe today she could convince him. She yawned again. After a nap.

A nice, long nap with her husband.

* * *

Grier threw the damned pen across the desk and stared at the numbers in front of him. He didn’t have the foggiest of fucking ideas what any of this shit meant. He was an action man, could fire the wings off a fly at eighty paces, and nobody in the club could outride him, but put a page of math in front of him and it might as well be a foreign language. Still, he’d promised Fiona he would handle everything, and by God, he would. If it took all night, a night he would’ve preferred spending with her, but he’d left her with Hamilton who’d shown up just in time for her to remind Grier of his promise to see to club business.

He drained his fourth cup of coffee and tried to make sense of the page in front of him. Fuck. This wasn’t working. Maybe after a break it would make more sense. He walked out of her office into the clubhouse. Sage stood against the bar talking to some Hell Kat Grier hadn’t seen before and Autumn, who Grier knew all too well.

Jez handed him a beer as Autumn slithered off her stool and over to wrap her arms around his neck. Her shirt was cut low and her shorts high, and she ran her hand up his chest to his neck and into his hair. She jerked hard and mashed their mouths together.

Once upon a time, Autumn had rocked his world, at a time before he knew what he was doing, when he was too young to understand the complexities of sex and just sought out the pleasure of it. Now, he only wanted her away from him. He disentangled her arms and backed a step away. “I’m married.”

She nodded and moved close enough to whisper in his ear. “I know, but word is the little wifey’s sick. And I know you. You need a healthy woman who will do exactly what you tell her.”

Again, he moved away. “Stop.”

She backed off and raised both hands. “Fine.”

Grier waited for her to wander away before he took the stool she’d vacated beside Sage. “You look like shit.”

Yeah, well, he had a pregnant wife who hadn’t quite grasped the concept of taking no for an answer, a club who may or may not have wanted him dead and questioned his loyalty at every turn, and enough paperwork he couldn’t finish to build a mountain. “Thanks.”

Sage nuzzled the Hell Kat with his chin, whispered something in her ear, and winked when she walked away. “What’s up with you?”

Grier considered him. Sage was a guy with book smarts. A guy who could probably make sense of a line of numbers and come up with the answers Fiona needed. “I need your help.”

Grier might not have been able to sort out the details himself, but he damned sure knew how to delegate.

* * *

Grier came in the back door because the front creaked and groaned and while he hadn’t quite gotten around to fixing it, he also didn’t want to wake Fiona if she was sleeping. The TV was on and Fiona’s laugh tinkled through the house. Grier came around the corner to find his wife and Hamilton seated close on the sofa, watching some old episodes of a sitcom, her head on his shoulder, his hand on a bowl of popcorn in her lap. Cozy.

And maybe because he was exhausted or maybe because she’d been on him like white on rice for weeks, and he’d consistently said no, or maybe because he was just jealous, he stood there contemplating all the different ways he wanted to kill Hamilton.

Instead of speaking, he stalked to the stairs and went up to shower. As he toweled off, she pushed the door open and walked in. “Do we have a problem?”

The stream of water had done nothing to soothe his anger or quell his rage. She’d been down there all over Hamilton, probably after they’d… and now, she stood in front of him, all innocence and wide eyes. “Nope.”

“He’s been my friend all my life.” She took a step closer. “And you’re the one who left him here with me.”

As cliché as it sounded, Grier couldn’t believe his ears. She was blaming him? “I left him here to make sure you were okay. Not for… anything else.”

She smiled, took the towel and tossed it behind her. “You’re cute when you’re jealous.”

“I’m not jealous.” Maybe a little, but damned if he planned to admit it to her.

“Okay, you’re cute when I’m horny.” She stripped off her clothes and his resolve weakened. Disappeared. And no damned way could he hide it with her standing in front of him and his towel on the floor behind her.

“Fiona…”

But she’d wrapped her leg around his hip and latched her mouth onto his. She ground her hips as she sucked his tongue into her mouth. He felt the pull deep in his groin and his dick twitched, seeking the heat of her pussy.

She pulled back enough to stare at him for a second. “Please, Grier. Please.”

Her soft tone, the way her body melded to his, the fingers gripping his shoulders, and the warmth of her naked body against his made the decision as if he’d ever had the choice. He moved to let the wall support her as he drove into her. “Oh, God.” It had been too long. He wouldn’t be able to last, wouldn’t be able to hold back, especially with her lips sucking his neck and her hips bucking, her whimpers, her… everything.