Rock Chick Revolution
Page 19

 Kristen Ashley

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When someone was being nice, you couldn’t be not nice back. It was a rule.
Shit.
“Just laying down the law now, Zano. When we’re pissed at each other, you can’t switch to nice. I can’t do anything with nice. You know it, so that’s not fighting fair.”
His lips quirked. His hand at my neck slid up into the back of my hair and his other arm curved around me, pulling me close to his hard heat as he totally ignored me laying down the law, and replied, “You know what I like?” He didn’t wait for me to answer. He kept going. “I like it when you act all badass, calling me Zano when I don’t have my hands and mouth on you or my dick inside you. But when I do, all I get is sweet breathy Rens.”
I lifted my hands to his chest and was pressing, at the same time ignoring my inner thighs quivering as I pointed out, “It’s also not fair to be sexy.”
He bent his neck, and with lips to mine, he murmured, “I don’t fight fair, baby. I fight to win.”
I made certain to make note of that.
He made certain I had no retort and did this by kissing me. Then he did it by keeping my mouth engaged as he picked me up like a groom carries his bride and walked me to my bedroom.
By the time we got there, I wasn’t thinking about making a retort.
All I was thinking about was Ren.
* * * * *
Two weeks later…
Ren was moving inside me and I was loving it when his lips at my ear whispered, “This feel casual to you?”
It so didn’t.
It felt beautiful.
Perfect.
My limbs tightened around him and I closed my eyes hard.
Then I turned my head, and, my lips at his ear, I whispered back, “I need more time.”
His body stilled, unfortunately on an outward glide, and my limbs again tensed around him.
Then he started stroking, sweet, slow, gentle, and replied, “I’ll give you that, baby.”
I slid a hand up his spine and into his thick, soft hair, thinking, thank God.
* * * * *
Three weeks later…
I was sucking back coffee as Ren strode into the kitchen wearing a suit.
I stopped, giving myself a moment to appreciate the view. I grinned at him, moved into him and leaned up to kiss his jaw.
I pulled back and mumbled, “Gotta go, babe. See you tonight.”
Before I could make a move to do that, his arm hooked around my waist and he pulled me into his side. His head turned, mine stayed tipped back, and he caught my eyes.
“Been keepin’ an eye on things, and Valenzuela’s lost interest in you,” he announced.
I knew this. Darius was also keeping an eye on things.
I’d had my phone call with Darius the morning after the night of Ren’s and my fight. He had already been made aware of this situation and assured me he was keeping an eye on things and running interference with Lee. Since neither of my brothers approached to tear into me, and Darius had reported Valenzuela was focusing on other things, I knew Darius was successful in these endeavors. So I moved on.
“I know,” I told Ren.
He nodded, then said, “Even so, I also know your piece hasn’t exited the chess board.”
This was true. Darius, Brody and I had another case.
I decided against speaking.
Ren held my eyes, then thankfully changed the subject.
“You workin’ Brother’s tonight?”
I shook my head.
“Good, then I can take you out to dinner.”
My heart squeezed, but luckily I had an excuse and it was not made up.
“I can’t. Girl’s Night In at Tod and Stevie’s. Jet’s wedding planning is heating up and things are getting out of hand. Her mother and soon-to-be mother-in-law are horning in, and Jet’s freaking. One word: bunting. You may not get that because you’re a dude. I’m a chick and I don’t even get it, but according to Tod, it’s a bride’s worst nightmare. Roxie’s also deep into the planning stages of her wedding, so Tod’s decreed there are a lot of decisions to make and tonight’s the night.”
To that, he immediately asked, “You workin’ tomorrow?”
I nodded.
He sighed.
Then he bent his neck and took my mouth in a kiss that was a whole lot better than the one I gave his jaw.
When he lifted his head, he murmured, “We’ll sort out another night.”
I again decided against speaking. Instead, I gave his arm a squeeze and threw another grin his way.
I broke free and executed a forced casual escape, calling, “Later!” as I did.
Ren didn’t reply.
* * * * *
One week later…
It was after a shift at Brother’s. I was in my Mustang with my phone in my hand.
I texted Ren with, On my way, then I tossed my cell on the seat beside me.
I was about to set my car purring, which would mean my radio would start blaring. This meant it was unfortunate timing because I could hear my phone ringing when, if it had happened two seconds later, I would not. Alternately, this could be considered fortunate timing, depending on how you looked at it, considering what would happen during that call.
Personally, I looked at it both ways. But mostly the second. What went down was way better on the phone than face to face.
Seriously.
See, I saw my screen said “Zano Calling” so I tagged my phone and put it to my ear.
“Hey,” I greeted.
“Hey,” he replied, then didn’t delay with laying it out. “Tonight doesn’t work for me. Tomorrow, you can get away, we’re havin’ lunch.”
Here we go again.
Him pressing for more. Me finding an excuse not to give it to him.
“I’m working Fortnum’s tomorrow.”
“You can get away to go shoppin’ with Daisy, you can get away to have lunch with me.”
Shit. I needed to learn not to share. The more he knew, the more he could use.
And he used it.
Daisy, by the way, was another Rock Chick. She wasn’t hooked up with a Hot Bunch guy. She was married to Marcus Sloan, a colleague of Ren’s (as it were). That was to say legitimate at the same time dirty.
I also stayed out of Marcus’s business. This was because I liked him, regardless of the dirty part of what he did. And I liked him not only because he was a nice guy, but mostly because he loved Daisy to distraction.
Daisy, as it tended to be with the Rock Chicks, was a little nuts. She looked like Dolly Parton, talked like her, dressed like Dolly would if she was on speed, and Daisy’s heart was made of pure gold.
So I loved her, and that meant Marcus loving her and knocking himself out to give her a good life (after one that was really not so good) worked for me.