“Spread your legs,” I instruct. Kristen does so in the most seductive way. Lord, I’m a fool for this woman. Settling down onto the mattress, I drop by head right between her thighs, tickling the soft flesh of her pussy with tip of my tongue. She likes light touches and soft strokes, so that’s exactly how I pleasure her. Slowly, leisurely, taking all the time in the world. She’s as sweet and as sugary as the frosting on Kira’s birthday cake, and I want to lick up every ounce.

  “God, fuck,” Kristen croons, squirming on the bed. Her body coiling tighter and tighter with each passing moment. “Gerard,” she expels my name, and it’s like a sound straight from the heavens. My erection pounds behind my zipper, but I want this to last. I want to bring her right to the edge and dangle her there for as long as possible.

  “Where is the only place you come, darlin’?” I circle my tongue then suck her clit.

  “Your cock.” She bows on the bed, digging her fingers into her long brown hair. I know she’s throbbing, and needy, and on the verge of desperate. But I’m a selfish man when it comes to her, and I want to feel her climax every time. It belongs to me. She belongs to me.

  I continue my slow assault until Kristen is so wet she’s begging me to fuck her. And I’m going to, just not quite yet.

  “Up.” I pull her into a sitting position, panting and yearning for more. Placing her hands on the button of my jeans I instruct her, “Take them off.”

  Kristen does as requested, popping the button open and unzipping my fly. Together we push my pants and underwear down my thighs until my erection is free. “Swallow it.” I jut my hips toward her face. Starry-eyed, she grips my shaft sternly and opens her mouth. Sliding her lips over the head of my cock, I drop my head and give into temptation. “That’s it,” I groan. “Deeper.” I thrust forward, and she sucks harder. Kristen has the mouth of a goddamn goddess. She deepthroats me over and over until I’m teetering on the same jagged edge as her. Two wanton people frantic for each other.

  “Do you want me inside you?” I grip her hair and pause her movements.

  She pops my erection from her mouth. “You know I do. I always want you.”

  “I want you too. You’re the only one I want,” I declare. It’s becoming harder and harder to hide my feelings. They just keep pouring out like a severed vein. I bleed with emotion when I’m with her, and there is no hiding the blood trail when I’m not.

  I shed my pants and pull off my T-shirt, exposing my tattooed form. Kristen runs her fingertips over the ink, always so fascinated with the pictured stories of my past. Her light touch makes my skin prickle. I grab her hand before my head explodes. “Darlin’.”

  Kristen smiles up at me. It’s about as cunning as it is cute. She knows she affects me as much as I affect her. I crawl onto the bed and lay on my back, urging Kristen to climb on top of me. I want her to ride me. I want to see every part of her and watch her face as she comes.

  “Come all over me, darlin’.”

  “Fuck, yes.” She slides her wet pussy onto my cock, and there is an instant fusion. A chain reaction that ripples between the two of us. Kristen starts out slow, drawing her hips up and down, milking the ecstasy, but the pull is too strong, she’s too far gone and ravenous to come.

  “Damn.” Her limbs tighten as she begins to move faster and faster. “I need you so much,” her voice explodes in a breathy whisper.

  “I’m here. Right here.” I grab her thighs, her hips, her ass as she works herself over, driving us both to the brink. I don’t know if she realizes how much meaning those word have. I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere. Ever. Being with Kristen, like this, like earlier, the decision seems easy. I choose her. I want to be with her. I am slowly coming to realize I’ve met the love of my life, and it only took me forty-seven years to find her. I don’t have time to waste. I know what and who I want, and I’m confident enough to go after it, even if it creates a blowback.

  “Oh shit, Gerard.” Kristen detonates, and it’s a dazzling display of fire and passion. Huffing and puffing and whining and crying. An orgasmic peak that has my head floating in the clouds and my cock swimming in the sea. Her arousal is so potent I can smell it in the air like salt water.

  I let go then, giving in to the magnificent being thriving on top of me. I grab her breasts and squeeze as the sensations take over, as I jerk my hips and shudder in incomparable bliss as I come inside the woman I know I want to spend the rest of my life with.

  Kristen collapses on top of me when she can no longer hold herself up. We’re physically drained, but I am higher than a kite, adrenalin coursing through my body like jet fuel.

  “Kristen, marry me.” I hold her tightly to my body and let the words roll out.

  “What?” She pops her head up to look at me. Her cheeks are red, her hair is a mess, yet she’s never looked more beautiful than she does right now.

  “I know it's fast, and impulsive, and you probably think I’m crazy, but I love you. I love you like I never loved another woman before. I want you to be all mine, and I want to be all yours.”

  She stares at me quietly for a long time. So long and so quiet I can feel the static in the air prickle under my skin. I won’t take no for an answer. I will fight for her. I will fight until she understands how much I need her. How much I love her, and how committed I am to her.

  “I never considered getting married again. After Dex, I never wanted to be imprisoned like that again.”

  My mouth drops open. “I don't want to make you feel like a prisoner.”

  Kristen smiles. “You don’t.”

  “So . . . it’s a yes?” I ask hopefully.

  “Don’t you think it's a little fast? We are still getting to know each other.”

  “I know everything I need to know about you. And let’s face it. I’m no spring chicken. I don't have the luxury of time the way I used to.”

  “You’re no geriatric either,” Kristen contests.

  “No, that’s true, but when I am, you’re the person I picture growing old with. Darlin’, every time I leave you, it’s like walking back into a black hole. My world is just not the same anymore. You’re it for me. I want to be it for you.”

  “My life is busy, Gerard.”

  “I know, and I’m willing to go wherever you need to. You don’t have to do it alone anymore.”

  “What about your son? The club?”

  “What about it? I’ll turn over the presidency to Ky. They’ll vote him in, no problem.”

  “Is that what he wants?”

  “I’m sure it is. The more important question is, what do you want?” I feel the most vulnerable I ever have in my life. I have never appealed to a woman the way I am appealing to Kristen right now. She has the ability to crush me with one single word. I’m terrified.

  She places her hand on my face, and her expression is earnest. My heart stops beating. “You. I want you.”

  “So . . . is that a yes?” I repeat my earlier question.

  Kristen pauses, and then . . . “Yes.”

  My whole fuckin’ world is about to change.

  And I can’t fuckin’ wait . . .

  The End

  Sneak Peek at Slashes in the Snow

  Chapter One

  KIRA

  This may be the worst fucking idea I’ve ever had.

  I stand static in the doorway of the most intimidating establishment I have ever stepped foot in. I’m an outcast, and every eye pinned on me knows it. Every steely, sharp, probing pupil glaring in my direction.

  I take a deep breath and talk myself out of running for my life. If I leave now, I may not have much a life left to run for.

  I take a tentative step forward, and the worn wood floorboard creaks beneath my foot.

  Ohhhh, you can do this. Just walk. Just walk. One foot in front of the other. Right, left, right, left.

  I balance on a tightrope as I make my way up to the bar. It’s old, wooden, and weathered, much like the bartender behind it. His grey beard is longer than my hair, and half his face is puckered with scars. Holy fuck, he’s scary. And by the way he’s staring at me, he’s not finding any entertainment in my presence.

  “What can I get you, princess?” His voice is raspy as I stand before him, a million tiny stabs of judgment tearing my body apart from the captivated audience around me.

  “I’m looking for Ky Parish,” I announce, placing my hands on the bar’s sticky edge. Ick.

  The old man’s grey, wiry eyebrows shoot up, and a low hush ripples over the patrons. I glance around at the rugged faces sitting at the few tables sprinkled around the room and those paused from shooting pool. If I didn’t have everyone’s attention before, I definitely do now.

  A moment later, two large men with thick beards and leather vests flank me. They’re not as old as the bartender, but definitely just as intimidating.

  “What kind of business you got with him?” The guy on my right leans on the sticky wooden top. He’s way younger than the bartender. Late twenties max, with long, copper-colored hair pulled up in a messy bun and a pair of the brightest green eyes I have ever seen.

  “It’s personal.” I clear my throat.

  “Personal?” he snorts.

  “Yes.” I square my shoulders, trying to make my five-foot-four frame look as large as possible.

  Agent Orange smiles down at me. It’s a condescending, humor-filled expression that makes me prickly.

  “No one gets an audience with the Prez unless they got one of three things. Drugs, money, or pussy. Which one you offering?”

  I cock my head and stare up at the leather-clad monster. “None of the above.”

  “Then you ain’t got no business with him.”

  “Yes, I do,” I argue. “I need to see him.”

  “We hear lots of women say that,” the dark-haired man on my left snickers as he lifts the hem of my pleated skirt. I smack his hand away and take a step back. There’s a wave of laughter in the room at my expense. Assholes. Every one of them.

  Panty Peeker is just as tall as Agent Orange, not as broad, but still menacing, nonetheless. Yup, this was definitely the worst fucking idea I’ve ever had. Thank you, desperation.

  I continue to backpedal to the door, Agent Orange, Panty Peeker, and a few other men trailing in my direction.

  “Since the Prez is preoccupied, you could always talk to one of us,” Agent Orange offers salaciously.

  “I’ll pass,” I sneer, still backing up. It feels like the walls are closing in on me. Everyone in the bar is staring at the little preppy princess who has no business being here. My heart hammers in my ears as I’m stalked like an animal. Only a few more steps and I’ll be out the front door. As soon as my foot hits the rickety porch, I’m going to make a run for it.

  “Where you going so fast, hot stuff? We were just getting to know each other.” The door is blocked by two more men, and I know I’m fucked.

  Fucked. Fucked. Fucked.

  “I’m not interested in getting to know any of you,” I assert, even though I’m scared out of my mind. I know someone like me doesn’t belong in a place like this, and all the men surrounding me know it, too.

  “We’re interested in getting to know you.” One of them touches the end of my blonde hair.

  “Yeah, give us a chance.” Another places a hand on my shoulder.

  “You got pretty legs.” Yet another eyes me up like a piece of sugary candy. I smack each advance away, panic clawing at my throat like a terrified cat up a tree.

  “Get away from me,” I hiss.

  My order falls on deaf ears though. I’m no one to men like these. Ruthless, fearless, savage. I’m a new, shiny toy, and it’s clear they want to play.

  I become claustrophobic as the circle tightens around me and hands touch me from every direction. Just before I scream in terror, a deep voice bellows, “Enough.”

  I jump sky high as the men scatter around me.

  Holy fuck.

  I take one more panicked step back and hit the wall. There’s nowhere left to go. I wipe my watery eyes and try to calm my hammering heart as the apparition stares me down. He appeared literally out of thin air. I stare back, straight into his arresting blue eyes. They’re on fire, burning with indignation. I’ve only heard stories of the infamous Ky Parish. Tales of a man who was fearless, loyal, and a tad bit reckless. A man who survived the travesties of war as a Marine and emerged a hero. I don’t know how biased these stories are since the man telling them was Ky’s father, but they all sounded sincere. Gerard Parish, my stepfather, is incredibly proud of his son, which is why I’m here. Everything I’ve been told about the man led me to believe he’s someone I could turn to, possibly even trust. But the person standing before me is a stark contrast to the image I had in my head. He looks . . . pissed. No humanity in his eyes, just hatred. Hatred directed right at me. I don’t understand where the feeling stems from. I’ve never met him before. He has no reason to dislike me. Does he?

  “You know who I am?” I ask meekly. I wanted to have this conversation in private, but it doesn’t look like that’s going to happen.

  “I believe I do.” His voice is low, raspy. Sort of sexy. I shouldn’t even be thinking that. But I can’t help it. The only time I’ve ever seen Ky was in his boot camp graduation picture Gerard keeps in his wallet. And that person — the cute boy with immense life twinkling in eyes and a suppressed smirk that concealed trouble — and the one standing in front of me are starkly different. The person in front of me is stormy, hard, and intimidating. Hot as fuck, and definitely not a boy, but a man. A man who’s seen a lot of this world and wears his scars predominantly on his face. Namely across his left eye where a long, angry slash stands out.

  “What the fuck are you doing in my bar?” Ky cuts right to the quick.

  “I needed to speak to you.” I try to keep my voice even.

  “About what?” He crosses his arms and glares. “My dad?”

  “No.” I glance around at all the attention this conversation is garnishing. “Is there somewhere private we can go and talk?”

  Ky’s lips twist up sinisterly, and I shiver. “Sure, out-fucking-side. You can wait . . . forever.” He all but kicks me out of the bar. “Beat it. I’m not interested in anything my deserter father or one of his princess pussies has to say.”

  I jerk my head back from the blatant insult. I knew Ky Parish was rough around the edges. I didn’t know he was a complete and total dickhead.

  “I need your help,” I whisper, pleading.

  “I don’t give a crap what you or your family needs.” His tone rumbles with animosity. “Now — Get. The. Fuck. Out.” He punches every word.

  I feel my eyes round and my lip pout. This was not what I was expecting. I don’t really know what I was expecting when I came face to face with Ky Parish, but a repeated backhand of insults was definitely not it. I know Ky and Gerard are not on the best terms, but I didn’t realize it was this bad, or that he had such ill will toward my mother and me.

  I stand up straight, the wall helping me stay horizontal. “You know, I’ve heard Gerard call you a lot of things. Fucking jerk-off was never one of them.” I sidestep to the right, and I’m out the front door. Dashing to my little red BMW parked on the gravel lot, I try to slam the driver’s side door as fast I can, but my arm is nearly ripped out of the socket as it hitches on something. I look up to find a dark figure blocking out the sun, holding my car door hostage.

  Fuck. I pissed him off. Not the objective for today’s visit.

  “What exactly has my father told you about me?” he demands.

  “Why do you care? I believe your exact words just were, and I quote, ‘I don’t give a crap about you or your family,’”

  I spit.

  “You’re mistaken. What I said is, ‘I don’t give a crap about what you or your family needs,’” he corrects. “If you’re going to quote someone, at least make it accurate.”

  I bristle. Is he being serious right now?

  “Can I go please?” I yank on the door handle. “This was a huge fucking mistake. I see that now.”

  The door doesn’t budge though. He clearly isn’t letting me leave that easily.

  “Not until you tell exactly why you’re here. Is my dad okay?”

  “He’s fine.” I fight against his stronghold on the door. I just want to go. Disappear and forget I was ever here. I’d like Ky Parish to do exactly the same. “He’s in Paris with my mother.”

  Ky scoffs, “Of course he is. Living in the highlife with his high-profile fucking princess.”

  “Huge fan of my family, I see,” I rip on him as I continually tug.

  “Huge is a bit of an exaggeration.” Ky moves slightly, and I go flying across the front seat as the force of my fight slingshots me back, the door slamming closed with an absurdly loud crash.

  Fucker.

  I punch the engine on, but he reopens the door before I can pull away.

  “Why did you come here?” he leans over me and asks with all seriousness. I get a perfect look at him. All the hard yet soft lines of his face. The golden five o’ clock shadow that matches the messy mop on top of his head. And his eyes. Damn those arresting eyes. They look almost turquoise from the way the light is hitting them.

  I have to remind myself to breathe. Ky Parish has to be one of the most striking men I have ever encountered, slash across his face and all.

  “I need help,” I answer honestly, lost in the taxing moment. Lost from the proximity of our faces and the strange attraction to this man. This man I don’t even know, who’s technically my stepbrother, even though we are more strangers than siblings.

  “What kind of help?” he entertains me.

  I swallow hard. “I think someone is following me. Maybe . . . stalking me?”

  “You don’t sound sure.”

  “Because I’m not sure.” Ky regards me like I’m crazy. At the moment, I feel exactly that.

  “You aren’t sure if someone is stalking you?”

  “No. Yes. I don’t know,” I scramble. “I just know weird things have been happening.”