Chrome: With a Heart Forged in Steele (Carolina Bad #4) (9 page)

I didn’t hear Rayce enter the kitchen, only noticing her when she slid next to me.

Damn, but she made me smile. She didn’t even have to do anything to make my body go on high alert.

“What are you doing down here, princess? Thought it was girl time.”

She reached up to stroke her fingers along my jaw. “Complaining?”

“No way.” Her slightest touch turned me on so fast, so completely, I wondered how I’d get through the day without becoming a walking, talking erection.

Pressing up to her tiptoes, she kissed a moist path from the dimple in my chin to my ear. She nibbled and licked and tickled my skin.

I grunted, locking my arms around her, lifting her to me.

“Anyway”—she whispered against my ear—“I wanted to see if Suzy Homemaker needed a hand.”

“What did you just say?” Cranking my neck, I narrowed my eyes at her.

“Make that
Harold
the Homemaker.” She stepped back.

“Woman.” I snapped her on the ass with a dishtowel. “I have a few things you could help with.” I stalked toward her, a caged animal, ready to pounce.

She retreated. “
Mmm
. I just bet you do.” Her wide hazel eyes twinkled. “But I was just kidding about helping in the kitchen. Woman’s work?” She gave an exaggerated shudder. “’Fraid not. Rather have my head under a hood.”

I’d rather have her head on my cock.

Advancing on her with a prowl, I dared, “C’mon, racy Rayce. Let me show you how real men turn up the heat in the kitchen.”

Jingle Balls

RAYCE SQUEAKED WHEN I jumped at her. I took her hand in mine, led her to the chopping block. I stood behind her, pressing the length of my body against her back, peering over her head.

What a fucking view. With my height I could see the dip in her creamy cleavage. Her breath started coming a little faster, a little shallower. I had her right where I wanted her, boxed in my arms, her ass nestled against me, my cock hard, heavy, and solid against her.

Reaching around her, I grabbed the super-sharpened knife, and handed her the hilt. I wrapped my big paw around her smaller hand.

“You have to be very careful with knives, princess.” I let her hand go, motioning for her to set the blade in motion on fresh rosemary and sprigs of thyme.

My hands slid from her waist to the bottom of her breasts. I toyed with the undersides, skimming my hands back and forth.

Her chopping slowed. Her breath sped.

“A nice
long
blade is always the way to go.” Nuzzling the nape of her neck, I lowered my stance, rubbing my cock against her ass.

I palmed the globes of her tits, rasping my fingers across her nipples.

She dropped the knife with a sharp intake of breath.

“
Hmm
.” My hand flat on her belly, I jerked her harder against me. “Maybe you shouldn’t play with knives after all, princess.”

Bracing herself with her hands on the chopping block, she circled her ass against my hard, bulging cock. “Jesus, Boomer.”

I stepped back and she almost sagged to the floor. Holding her around the waist, I steered her to the stove where the marinade-cum-sauce bubbled.

“You want everything to get really
hot
.” Sucking on her earlobe, I smiled as she whimpered.

I guided her hand to the spoon in the saucepan. “So you gotta keep everything moving, make sure everything gets the right amount of attention.” I grinded slowly against her, and her hand faltered. “Keep stirring, princess.”

Cupping her generous tits, I tweaked her nipples.

The moment she shivered with a long moan, I spun her around. Her face clasped between my hands, I took her mouth in a deep kiss. My tongue darted between her lips, her throaty sigh spinning around me. I slanted her head, angled her neck, and plunged deep into the wet silk of her mouth, groaning when her tongue tangled with mine.

I slowly pulled my head back. “So, you see, princess? I know exactly how to heat things up.”

She lowered her face, panting against my neck.

The tantalizing pressure of my cock connected with the juncture of her legs. “You’re getting wet for me, aren’t you?”

Clutching my biceps, Rayce tilted up her head. She nodded, her eyes half-shaded.

“Wish I had time to drag down your pants, pull off your panties, get my mouth on your pussy.”

She thrust against me.

“Gimme your hand,” I ordered.

She complied, and I placed it on the thick obscene bulge in my jeans. My cock jumped and pumped at the contact.

“This is what you do to me. Every damn time I see you, think about you,
touch you
.”

Grabbing the back of her neck, I dragged her in for one more hot, horny kiss before releasing her.

Rayce was wobbly. Her eyes bright, dazzled, hooded. Her lips swollen.

I rubbed them with my knuckle and commented, “Love seeing your juicy mouth like this. Wanna see your other slick lips, make them nice and swollen from my tongue. Make you ready for my cock.”

“Boomer.” She took a shuddering breath, her eyes drifting closed, her body arching.

I cupped her through her leathers, and her hips undulated. She gripped my wrist. Sliding my fingers up and down, I bit and sucked her neck.

Then I stopped. Truth was I was way too fired up and she was far too tempting. I needed to cool it down a bit if we were going to make it through the rest of the day. Without ripping each other’s clothes off.

“I think we better serve dinner.” My breathing ragged, my voice came out deep and unrecognizable.

Rayce bit her lip, nodding.

Fuck
. I made her speechless.
Nice
. No more trash-talkin’ for a change.

Until I caught her muttering, “Big muscles. Good with babies. Knows how to dance. And can cook. Quadruple hate.”

Laughter burst out of me.

A few minutes later, we had the food on the table.

“Dinners on!” I bellowed.

Brodie came in, clapping. “And you didn’t even set fire to the kitchen.”

“Wouldn’t say that,” Rayce mumbled.

“Hey.” I smacked my brother on the back of his thick skull. “That happened when I was twelve.”

“And again when you were fourteen.”

“At least
I
know my way around a kitchen.”

“And other things,” Rayce muttered under her breath.

When we sat down, I made sure she was by my side.

As used to be the tradition in the Steele household, we all joined hands. Me, Rayce, Cole, Ashe, Brodie, Cara, Cat, Nick.

“Been a long time since this house was so full. So happy.” I squeezed Rayce’s hand, not daring to look at Brodie or Cat. “Christmas is a time for family. Some of us lost ours.”

Nick cleared his throat with quiet, “
Damn
.”

“But we found new people who fit. To those we miss and wish were still here. To life and living it, raise a glass.”

All across the table our glasses chimed together.

Brodie coughed into his fist. Nick bit down on his lip. Rayce folded her hand around mine.

Even Cole—the usually cool dude—looked a little emotional.

I set down my glass. “Let’s dig in, y’all.”

Dig in we did. Platters of food were passed back and forth. Forks and knives came together with metallic clinks. Glasses were emptied and refilled. Plates were scraped clean and loaded up again.

First family Christmas in fucking forever.

Hopefully the first of many more to come.

And thank God, the food-eating thing kept Brodie’s big mouth shut for a long, long time.

With the lamb and all the fixings chawed down to bare bones and bare plates, Brodie and Nick cleared the table. At least they were good for dishwashing. Or so I thought. I found them in the kitchen, hitting the bottle of tequila, snickering about having in-house designated drivers in the form of their pregnant women.

I shoved them to the sink, confiscated the bottle, and poured my own shot, which I drilled back. Luckily Coletrane joined the dudes in the kitchen with the cleanup, per usual.

Returning to the living room, I lounged on the couch where I listened to Cat and Ashe discuss pregnancy issues I really did not want to be privy to. Swollen ankles. Swollen tits. Bizarre food cravings.

Ashe was an old hand at this. Cat was a newbie. Me? I did not need to be in the know.

I wandered to the other side of the house, searching for Rayce. I found her with her nose practically pressed against the glass of the deck doors.

Outside, Brodie was with Cara. He’d obviously ditched dishwashing duty and forgotten the snowman was supposed to wait until after the gift-giving blowout. Fucking typical. But I couldn’t find it in me to care as he and Cara went to town on the fast-melting snow, building the Mr. Frosty he’d promised earlier. Funny. Seeing the big dude next to the young girl, his leather jacket and inked hands and goatee beside her fresh face and swinging pigtails—it didn’t seem like an odd combo at all.

Especially when Cara crammed a snowball into his grinning face.

I ran an arm around Rayce’s waist.

“He’s actually a really good dad.” She laid her head against my shoulder, sounding wistful.

I squeezed her hip. “Yeah.”

Although Brodie and I ragged on each other constantly, I was damn proud of him.

“I’m kinda surprised,” she said.

“I’m not. Knew he had it in him. Hidden depths.”

“Like you?” Rayce caressed my chest.

“You have no idea.” I snaked her fully against me.

I had her wedged against the door, my lips on hers when a snowball splatted the other side of the glass beside her head.

“You’re gonna give Cara nightmares, dude!” Brodie rattled the door handle.

Pulling Rayce into my arms, I opened the door to let the duo inside.

“Oh. So she’s your girlfriend, Uncle Boom?” Cara let her wet mittens slap onto the floor.

“No.” Rayce recoiled.

“Yup.” I snatched her back against me.

“Cool.” Cara quirked her head. “I like the blue streaks in your hair, Rayce. And my mom said you’re a mechanic too?”

“Thanks. Yeah. I work at Stone’s.”

“Brodie, think Mom will let me dye my hair?” Cara turned her attention to my brother.

“Girl, you’re lucky if she even lets you have an iPhone.”

“But you can talk her into it, right?”

“Hell no. I’m not getting in the middle of estrogen wars.”

Cara narrowed her eyes. “I know what that means. I have health class at school, you know?”

“Excellent. Then we don’t have to do the Birds and the Bees thing with you.”

“So, how about opening presents now?” I linked my fingers through Rayce’s, gesturing to Cara and Brodie.

Cara marched into the living room, chanting, “Pre-sents. Pre-sents. Pre-sents.”

A flurry of wrapping paper torn open, bows tossed away, cards read, boxes sailing across the room.

Months to get it all together. Minutes to destroy it.

Perfect.

Rayce smiled, taking it all in. I had no idea who got what or what I’d bought for whom. I was too busy watching her.

I tried to sneak her present in, in the midst of the mayhem.

Handing the small box to Rayce, I whispered against her lips, “Merry Christmas.”

“I didn’t bring anything for you. For anyone.” She looked down at the gift, her fingers stroking the paper.

“Yeah, you did. You showed up. You’re here. That’s all I wanted.” I flicked at the bow on the box. “Gonna open it?”

She gently untaped the package, pulling the paper aside. She lifted out the black and white Fox MX gloves that had cost a pretty penny and were worth every single cent.

“I can’t accept these.” Rayce laid them back inside the box.

“Bullshit.”

“Why are you doing all this?”

“What?”

“Treating me like I matter.”

I growled low in my throat. “Because you for damn sure
do
matter. Fuck, Rayce. You don’t get it yet?”

How the hell did this hardcore woman have such a low profile of herself?

It pissed me right off.

I had an idea this crack in her self-esteem was all her dad’s fault. Because otherwise she was true guns, blazing fire, balls out. Goddamn perfect.

Cole brought in the heavily laced eggnog. Brodie threw more logs on the fire. Shitlock climbed into the smallest empty box. We sat around, listening to Christmas songs, watching the lights dance on the walls.

It went without saying I kept my arm around Rayce.

“Where’s your guitar, Boom?” Brodie rolled up onto an elbow in front of the fireplace.

“Not a clue.” Heat warmed my face from an uncomfortable blush, and I shifted uncomfortably.

“I call bullshit on that one. In your bedroom. Right where it always is.”

“It’s probably out of tune.” I hadn’t played—not really—for years.

“BS again. You tune that thing almost as much as you polish your knob.”

“Brodie. I’m gonna kill you.”

He jumped up. “Be right back.”

“You do not play the guitar.” Rayce pulled back to scowl at me.

“Sings too,” Cat chimed in.

Brodie came back down, dropped the guitar in my lap, and sat with Ashe pressed against his side.

“Gonna fuck your face up for this, bro,” I quietly grumbled.

“Awesome. Can’t wait ’til you try it.”

My fingers strummed the chords, and I adjusted the frets. The sleek acoustic came to life in my hands just like it always had.

I struck the opening chords of “She Talks To Angels”, remembering my first dance with Rayce.

Hunching over the guitar, I forgot about everything else, everyone else but her. My voice rumbled out, a deep register, meant for her alone.

When I hit the chorus, they all sang along. Cat and Nick danced. Rayce stared at me, fanning her face.

Brodie whooped it up.

My voice lowered at the end, and I cradled the guitar against me.

“‘Jingle Balls’ next, dude!” Brodie looped an arm around Ashe.