It was a setup. “She suggested I come over and say hello.”

  “I’m not working you people hard enough,” he mutters, lifting an oyster and quickly slurping it out of the shell. My nose wrinkles as he drops the empty shell. “Did you have lunch?”

  “No.”

  “Have one of these.” He slides the platter of oysters toward me, but I shake my head.

  “Not a fan.”

  “Your loss.” He lifts one and repeats the process. “They’re the best.”

  “I was hoping for hot chicken.”

  Nodding, he slides off the stool and fishes in his wallet, taking cash and leaving it on the bar. “I know the best place for hot chicken. Let’s go.”

  “Right now?” Glancing back, I take one last sip of my beer and follow him out past the wooden tables filled with reclining patrons to the sidewalk. I get hung up by a waitress carrying a huge platter of food, and when I get outside, he’s waiting, lighting up a cigarette.

  My nose wrinkles again as he exhales a stream of blue smoke, squinting one eye. “You’re something else, you know it? Have you always been a ball buster?”

  “I’m not… It’s just… It’s such a terrible habit.”

  We’re walking up South Street toward sixteenth, and I try to think of something non-ball busting to say. “Are you still considering firing me?”

  He takes another pull and grins. “Nah, I think we’ll keep you on for now.”

  “Where is this chicken place? Prince’s is in SoBro.”

  “Prince’s is closed on Sundays. We’re going to my place.”

  I stop walking, and he takes a few steps before turning to look back at me. “What?”

  “Your place?”

  “I played pickup with Donald Prince. I know the recipe.”

  My arms cross, and I start walking slowly to where he’s waiting. “I don’t believe you.”

  “You think I’m luring you back to my place on the promise of hot chicken?”

  “I’m not sure what to think.”

  “Are you afraid to go to my place?”

  “A little.” That Sandra is one sneaky bitch. “I thought you said this was not a good idea.”

  His hands are in his pockets. “Hot chicken’s always a good idea.”

  “Is it?” A teasing glint is in his eye, and I feel so curious. “Okay, then. Patton Fletcher cooking me hot chicken? How can I say no?”

  “That’s more like it.” He takes my hand, putting it in his arm. “You don’t have to fight all the time.”

  “You’re one to talk.”

  12

  Patton

  My insides are tense walking with her hand in my arm like this. It feels dangerous. It feels like we’re crossing a line we might not be able to uncross.

  I don’t really care.

  It feels good.

  It feels like for the first time in a long time, I can relax.

  It feels like a holiday weekend.

  We’re at my building, and I hold the door as she enters, her warm, sweet scent meeting my nose. Her hair hangs long down her back, and her ass is really cute in that skirt.

  As we ride the elevator, I watch her lacing and unlacing her fingers. I think about those fingers on my shoulders yesterday, holding onto me as we swam, pulling me closer when we kissed. My eyes flicker to her glossy lips, and I want to kiss her again.

  Her blue eyes blink up, and she seems nervous. “I didn’t mean to make you cook for me.”

  “You didn’t fight me too hard.” Her jaw drops, and I almost laugh. “It’s okay. I enjoy cooking.”

  “You are a very unexpected man, you know that?”

  “Good.”

  The elevator dings and we cross the foyer to the penthouse. I open the door, and she inhales sharply. “It’s gorgeous.”

  I have an amazing view of the city and the surrounding mountains. She kicks off her sandals and walks across the dark wood floors past the flat screen television and black leather sofa to the balcony.

  For a moment, I stand watching her. Her toenails are painted blue, and I like her bare feet on my wood floors. Her skirt shows off her legs, which are quickly becoming one of my favorite features. I want to walk over to her and wrap her in my arms.

  Last night, when I got home after our incident in the lake, I sat for a long time looking out at the lights of the city. I thought about Marley’s question about me being alone. I thought about Taron’s observation. I remembered our kiss and how it affected me. I should be staying away, but I can’t seem to do it.

  Why did I invite her to come here? What makes her special?

  I like the way she looks at me, the way she challenges me and teases me. She’s playful and fun. She’s sunlight and fresh air. She makes me feel like for the first time in a long time I can let go and simply be. Maybe it’s all an illusion, but when I look at her, it feels real.

  I don’t want her to be afraid of me.

  I don’t want to hurt her.

  Even if I’m afraid it’s inevitable.

  “Would you like a drink?”

  She looks over her shoulder. “Got any whiskey?”

  “I do.” I walk to the kitchen and pull down a bottle of Jameson, pouring us each a shot in tumblers. “Rocks?”

  She walks to where I’m standing and takes the glass, giving me a little clink before throwing it back. My eyebrows rise as I watch her. Unexpected.

  “Okay.” I lift mine and do the same. It burns slightly going down, but it’s good stuff. “More?”

  “Maybe in a minute. Got any water?”

  Digging in the fridge, I pull out two bottles of water, buttermilk, eggs, a package of skinless chicken, and hot sauce. “Come over here and help me.”

  She takes the bottle of water and twists it open then walks to the other side of the white bar. I place an air fryer in the center of the island and plug it in.

  “Healthy.”

  “Not all my habits are bad.”

  I can’t tell if she’s playing with me, but I’m enjoying this, from her tough-girl whiskey shot to her funny attempts at bossing me around. Reaching into the cabinet, I take out flour, black pepper, brown sugar, and the remaining dry ingredients then turn my back to combine them all in a bowl.

  “You really do have everything.”

  “I told you, it’s easy to make.”

  “Why is your back turned?” She skips around beside me, trying to look over my shoulder. “Is it a secret recipe?”

  “Back off.” I put up an elbow, but she’s on her tiptoes, holding my arm.

  “I want to see!”

  It makes me laugh, and I move around to block her from the final steps. “The Prince family would not appreciate me giving out their recipe to just anyone.”

  “Rude!” She huffs, stepping back and crossing her arms.

  I glance over my shoulder and grin. It makes her blink quickly as her cheeks flush. She’s so damned cute. Turning to the counter, I set the dry mixture beside the package of chicken. “Hand me one of those.”

  She picks it up, and I begin the process of dipping it in the liquid mixture then rolling it in the dry. From there they go into the fryer.

  “You really expect me to believe you played pickup with Donald Prince? You?”

  “What’s that supposed to mean? You think I can’t play basketball?”

  “I just can’t imagine it. You strolled down from your penthouse here all the way to SoBro to play basketball in the park with a bunch of poor kids?”

  “I feel like you’re insulting me, but I’m not sure.” I repeat the process with the remaining pieces of chicken.

  “I’m just speaking as a former poor kid. Your kind never played with us.”

  “My kind?” All the chicken is in, and I hit the button to fry them. Then I switch on the faucet and wash my hands. “That feels very prejudiced against rich kids.”

  “Puh-lease.” She rolls her eyes, and I catch her by the waist, pulling her to me.

  She doesn’t fight or pull away, and I decide to be honest with her. “I was a pretty lonely kid. I was an only child, my dad worked all the time, and my mom died when I was ten.”

  Her brow furrows, and she does a little frown. “I’m sorry.” Her voice is softer.

  I give her waist a little pull. “It’s okay. I’d go to the Y and hang out with the kids there. I met a lot of people. Learned things.”

  “Like how to play basketball and make hot chicken?”

  “Yep. And it’s where I met Taron and Marley.”

  “You’ve known each other all your lives?”

  “Pretty much.”

  Her lips curl into a smile, and the fist in my chest unclenches. Her blue eyes are so pretty. I reach up and cup her cheek with my hand. “What did you do as a kid? Play at the Y?”

  “We played at the beach. I didn’t even know it was special. It was free, so it’s what we did.” A dreamy look is in her eyes as she remembers.

  For some reason, our voices have grown soft, our bodies relaxed together. I’m still holding her waist, and her hands are on my chest. I lower my face so that my nose is at her temple and inhale gently.

  “You smell so good.” That heat begins to rise between us.

  “My sister made it for me. She makes organic perfumes and things. This one’s a body lotion, actually, but I love it. It’s coconut and ginger and other stuff. Did I mention she keeps like ten cats and she still lives by the water?” My brow furrows as I try to keep up with her words. Our eyes meet and she blinks, flushing a pretty shade of pink and shaking her head. “I’m sorry. I talk too much when I’m nervous.”

  “Do I make you nervous?”

  “A little bit.”

  Her confession makes me smile; it makes me think of doing dirty things with her. I move my hands along her waist, finding the skin beneath her sweater. She inhales sharply when I touch her, and I pause.

  “I have a confession.” My voice is low.

  “What?”

  “I’d like to kiss you again.”

  “You would?” She leans closer, her hands moving higher to my shoulders. “You don’t think that’s a bad idea?”

  My face is lower, closer to her lips. “What do you think?”

  “I think we work together.” Her eyes are fixed on my mouth, her lips seeming fuller as she speaks. “I think it’s risky. It could change how we think of each other.”

  “How do you think of me?” My lips are at her ear, and I press them to the side of her neck. I feel the little pulse beneath her skin beating like a rabbit.

  “I haven’t decided.” She lifts her chin, and I kiss her cheek, making my way closer to her mouth. “I was told you’re the devil.”

  Blue eyes meet mine, and the chemistry between us is alive. “Do you believe that?”

  “No.” She shakes her head. “When we met, you reminded me more of a tiger, watching for the chance to pounce.”

  “A tiger?”

  She nods, and I can’t hold back anymore. Leaning down, I touch her lips with mine. It’s a caress, soft and sweet. She tastes delicious, like good whiskey and fresh water.

  Our kiss quickly becomes more intense, mouths open, and she makes a little noise when my tongue touches hers. It’s gasoline on the fire in my stomach. My hands are under her ass, and I lift her onto the bar. Her legs go around my waist, and she leans closer, devouring my mouth as her fingers thread into the sides of my hair.

  “Patton,” she gasps. “I don’t know…”

  I’m about to release her, but her legs tighten around me, pulling our bodies flush. I’m sure she can feel my erection on her thigh. She whimpers, sealing her mouth over mine again. We kiss; I trace my fingers under her sweater, finding the line of her bra. I want to remove it. I want to cover her small breasts with my mouth and kiss, suck, pull…

  But I don’t want her to be sorry. I don’t want her to say later it was all too fast.

  Lifting my chin, I find her blue eyes. They’re hazy with lust, and I almost can’t say the words. “Tell me to stop if you want me to stop.”

  She blinks slowly. “I don’t want you to stop…”

  It’s all I need to know. Stepping back, I undo the buttons on my shirt, one by one. She sits on the bar with her sexy legs spread, and her lip goes between her teeth as her eyes follow my progress. It’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.

  When it’s open, she reaches for me. I step to her, and she traces her fingers along the lines of the ink on my right shoulder. “What is it?”

  I slide my hand from her wrist, to her elbow. Her skin is so soft. “It’s several things. A map, an eagle, a band of iron, semper fi…”

  She looks up at me. “What does it mean?”

  “Different things. Our missions, honor, brotherhood, always faithful.”

  The bell on the fryer dings and we both look at it like it’s the end of a round of boxing. The mood shifts, and I walk over to pull out the basket and plate the sizzling food.

  Stepping to the side, I grab the hot sauce and a big Ziploc bag. “We’ll need to shake it in the hot sauce when it cools.”

  She grins. “I’m really impressed you used an air fryer.”

  “Have you ever fried chicken?”

  “No.” She makes a cute little disappointed face, and I step between her legs again. “It’s a big mess. This way it’s fast and easy.”

  “Aren’t you the commercial.”

  Reaching up, I catch her chin and pull her face closer. “Don’t be cute.” I give her a brief kiss on the lips. “When you live alone, you learn things.”

  “Your place is so clean. It doesn’t look like anybody lives here.”

  “I have a maid service.”

  “Lucky.”

  My hands are on her thighs again, and I’m not interested in chicken. I have a one-track mind and the hard-on in my pants is pointing right at her.

  Her hands are on my shoulders, and I feel her fingers touching the ends of my hair at my neck. “Why are you alone?”

  Sliding my hands higher, they’re at the edge of her skirt. “Work keeps me busy. Keeping up with the guys.”

  “You must get lonely.”

  “I live alone, but I’m not lonely. If I want someone, I have them.”

  “Someone like me?”

  My face is in her hair again, and I pull the top of her ear between my lips. She does a little shiver. I kiss along the line of her brow. “What’s wrong with you?”

  “Nothing you can’t fix.”

  Leaning back, I find her eyes. “What?”

  Her nose scrunches briefly. “It’s a line from a movie. I know. It’s so dumb. You just made me think of it when you said that. It’s Bogie and Bacall, and it’s really romantic. He says—”

  I stop her talking with a kiss, softly at first, pulling her lips with mine, tasting her whiskey mouth. “Stop being nervous.”

  Her hands touch my face, and she exhales a light laugh. “I can’t help it. I’ve never been with the devil.”

  I kiss her again, tongues touching, heat centering below my belt.

  I want to taste her. I want to be inside her.

  My mouth moves to her jaw. “The devil’s just like any other man.”

  “No…” Another kiss. “He’s absolutely not.”

  That does it. My hands go under her ass, and I lift her off the bar. Her legs are around my waist, and I walk the short distance across the living room to my bedroom. Her face is against my neck, and I feel her tongue touch my skin. It’s a charge of electricity that shoots straight to my cock.

  Lowering her to the bed, I slide my open shirt down my arms. She’s lying on her back with those long legs bent and her hair spread all around her.

  Be sure… “I want to sleep with you.”

  Her brow quirks, and a naughty smile curls her lips. “Can we do more than sleep?”

  “You said I’m the devil, right?”

  “So I’ve heard.”

  I catch her bare ankle, pulling her closer. “Then definitely.”

  13

  Raquel

  They say the devil was heaven’s most beautiful angel. Patton Fletcher standing over me, looking down like he wants to devour me, blows that seraph away.

  He’s the tiger, and I couldn’t escape if I wanted to.

  I don’t.

  His shirt’s gone, and my eyes trace the strong lines of his broad shoulders to his firm chest to the ridges of his abs. The sleeve of ink following the lines of muscle in his arm is wickedly sexy—it makes my insides clench. I’m so eager, I’m sure I’ll burst into orgasm the moment he touches me.

  Intense, dark eyes move from my breasts to my legs, and his voice is rich and low. “You have great legs.” Instinctively, my knees rub together, and he holds out his hand.

  I take it, and he pulls me up, catching the hem of my sweater and lifting it over my head. My black lace bra only covers the bottom of my breasts, and he traces his fingers along the tops of them, causing me to shiver.

  His eyes darken, and he dips them inside, rolling my hard nipples between his fingertips. “You have perfect breasts.”

  My lips part, and the heat surging in my veins has me under his spell. “Thank you.”

  “Lie back.”

  I do as he says, and he drops between my knees, sliding his hands up my outer thighs and shoving my denim skirt up to my waist.

  “I’ve wanted to taste you since you wore that skirt on Friday.”

  Oh, shit. My eyes flutter closed and a moan slips from my throat as he kisses the inside of my knee, tracing his lips higher, along the sensitive skin of my inner thigh.

  “Patton…” I hiss as his beard scratches my legs.

  He kisses a line, drawing closer to my center, and indescribable pleasure floods my lower belly. With the hook of a thumb, he jerks my thong aside. Cool air touches me just before his mouth covers me.

  “Oh, God!” My back arches off the bed at the warm pass of his tongue over my clit.

  He circles again, and my hips rock in time with the movement of his mouth over my most sensitive parts. Another pass, and my hands grasp his hair. I thread my fingers as he goes faster, circling, winding me higher.

  I’m on the edge, just about to explode into a million shooting stars when he moves his lips to the crease of my thigh, kissing and looking up at me.