Chapter 4
ACE
It was still warm outside as I pulled the SUV smoothly to a stop in front of Poppy’s apartment building. I idled for a moment, gathering the tattered remains of my patience before stepping out of the vehicle.
Poppy emerged from her building as I rounded the hood of the SUV, and the world went still around me, my breath catching hard in my chest. Soft waves of honey-blond hair cascaded past her shoulders, catching the fading sunlight and glowing like polished amber.
Her lips curved in a shy smile, and her cheeks tinged with color as our eyes met.
The little diamond stud in her nose flashed, drawing my gaze to the slight pout of her lush red lips.
I opened the passenger door for her, savoring the way her eyes widened in surprise, and a smile played at the corner of her lips as she accepted my hand.
Her palm slid against mine, soft and delicate, and my fingers tightened automatically, needing just another moment of her warmth.
I helped her climb into the seat, my gaze slipping briefly down her body as her dress rode up slightly, revealing smooth thighs that made my pulse spike sharply.
Once inside, she smoothed her dress nervously and glanced up at me, offering a hesitant smile.
“Thanks for picking me up.” Her voice was barely audible over the quiet rumble of the engine. “You didn’t have to do that.”
I held her gaze, feeling the heat build between us as I leaned in closer. “I wanted to.”
Her lips parted gently, and her cheeks flushed brighter. I stepped back reluctantly, closing the door carefully before rounding to the driver’s side. The tension between us was palpable, wrapping around me like a physical thing as I slipped into the SUV and pulled smoothly away from the curb.
The drive to Brimstone Steakhouse was heavy with silence.
Not uncomfortable, but thick with anticipation and something heated and unspoken, leaving the air between us crackling.
I was painfully aware of her presence—the subtle rise and fall of her chest, the quickening pace of her breathing, and the way her fingers twisted nervously in her lap.
The slightly upscale restaurant a few blocks east of Main Street glowed warmly against the evening sky as I pulled into a spot near the entrance.
Warm brick and dark timbers defined the building, while low lighting from inside beckoned, hinting at intimate dinners and private conversations.
As we entered, the rich scent of grilled steak and woodsmoke wrapped around us, enhancing the already palpable tension.
The hostess led us to a secluded booth at the back, away from the hum of conversation and gentle clinking of silverware. Poppy slid in gracefully across from me, her eyes sparkling with curiosity and nerves as they flickered over the elegant decor.
“You own this place, don’t you?” she asked quietly, a knowing smile playing on her lips.
I relaxed against the leather seat, allowing a slight smirk. “The club does. Well, they co-own it with our tail gunner, Havoc.”
She laughed, shaking her head. “Of course. Is there anything you guys don’t own around here?”
I arched a brow, my lips curling slightly. “Not much. Does that bother you?”
“No,” she replied quickly, flushing a delightful shade of pink. “I think it’s impressive. It’s just—you’re full of surprises.”
“You have no idea, baby.” My voice came out lower than I intended, thick with meaning, and her blush deepened.
That delicious shade of pink made my dick ache and pulse race.
One of these times, it was either going to kill me or make me lose control.
And the fact that she was so sweet only made my desire for her burn hotter.
I couldn’t wait to strip away all that innocence, piece by piece, until I was the only thing she could think about.
She cleared her throat, fumbling briefly with the menu. “So what’s good here?”
“Everything.” I didn’t bother to glance down, too busy studying the way her pulse fluttered at the base of her throat. “But the ribeye is my favorite.”
She nodded, lowering the menu and trying to focus. Her voice came out softer and a little breathless. “Then I’ll have the ribeye too.”
Our server took our orders before leaving us alone in the charged silence once again. Poppy smoothed the napkin across her lap nervously, looking up at me through thick, dark lashes.
“So what exactly is it you do, Ace?” she asked, her curiosity genuine and eyes sparkling warmly. “I mean, it’s finance, right? I’m not sure exactly what that entails.”
Something about hearing her call me by my road name didn’t sit well, but I ignored the feeling.
I leaned back, holding her gaze. “Financial analysis mostly. Investments, mergers, and consulting for some private clients. It’s less exciting than it sounds.”
I was careful to be honest, but vague.
“Sounds interesting to me.” She leaned forward slightly with open enthusiasm. “I mean, numbers are fascinating. I know it’s nerdy, but I really enjoy my job most of the time.”
“It suits you. Your energy, the way you think fast and talk faster.”
Her cheeks turned pink again, and she shook her head. “That’s a polite way of saying I never stop talking, isn’t it?”
I let a slow grin curve my mouth. “Not complaining, Poppy.”
She flushed deeply, glancing down with a soft laugh. “People usually get annoyed by it. I always feel like I’m apologizing for talking too much or rambling. It drives my family crazy. People always say I’m ‘a lot.’”
She used air quotes around the phrase, and I could see the hurt swimming in her eyes despite her efforts to hide it. I loved the fact that she wore her thoughts and emotions on her sleeve, that she was so genuine and open.
But seeing that pain in her lovely hazel orbs made my chest tighten, and a fierce protectiveness flared sharply. It made me want to hunt down every person who’d ever said that to my girl and cut out their fucking tongues. “Maybe people aren’t enough to handle someone like you.”
Her eyes flew up to mine, wide and slightly stunned. A gentle, shy smile curved her lips. “I…no one’s ever said anything like that to me before.”
“They should have.” I paused, holding her gaze deliberately. “You’re too much in the best possible way.”
She looked breathless, her lips slightly parted. “Thank you, Ace.”
“Colter,” I muttered with a frown. “My name is Colter.”
“Colter? But don’t—”
“You call me Colter.”
Before she could respond, the server returned with our food. The spell between us temporarily broke, and we turned to eating. We conversed during the meal, though I let her do most of the talking, simply enjoying the beautiful sound of her voice.
Whenever she would pause and look apologetic, I simply asked another question and encouraged her to answer. Eventually, she seemed to realize that I wasn’t annoyed by her constant chatter, but I knew it would take time before she believed it didn’t bother me at all. This was progress, though.
By the time dessert arrived, my cock throbbed painfully beneath the table. I ached to take her somewhere quiet and show her exactly how I felt about the way she kept blushing.
Dessert was a slow-burning exercise in restraint. She ordered cheesecake, and I went for the key lime pie. But I left it alone. The hunger I felt wasn’t for food.
My attention stayed locked on her as she took the first bite. Her tongue darted out to catch a crumb from the corner of her mouth, and I nearly growled out loud, fantasizing about how those lips would look sliding up and down my cock, my fingers tangled in her soft honey-colored hair.
Her eyes flickered up, noticing my stare. “You’re watching me.”
“Yes.”
“Is there something wrong?”
“No.” My voice dropped lower. “Just imagining how your mouth would taste right now.”
Her cheeks flamed scarlet, and she quickly took another bite, her eyes wide, but she didn’t look away.
Fuck, she was tempting. She had some kind of magnetic pull.
It wasn’t just physical, either. Something deeper and far more primal had taken hold of me, tightening around my heart in a way I’d never felt. It should’ve worried me, but it didn’t.
When the meal finally ended, I stood carefully, keeping the bulge in my jeans hidden. She placed her hand in mine when I offered it without hesitation, her eyes filled with heat and uncertainty.
The ride home was thick with anticipation.
She didn’t protest or even question when I took the turn toward my place instead of hers.
There was a moment where I saw understanding in her expression, acceptance rather than confusion.
We hadn’t talked about it, but that didn’t matter.
She knew exactly where I was taking her, and she was all in.
We passed several homes on the drive out to my place, which was around halfway between the compound and downtown Riverstone.
The properties were all at least an acre apart, and most belonged to my club brothers, their family members, or close friends.
It was intentional, given our preference to keep outsiders at a safe distance from the compound.
The clubhouse wasn’t some isolated safe house, but it wasn’t exactly easy to find either. And that was exactly how we liked it.
My house came into view as we drove down the tree-lined drive, gravel crunching beneath the tires.
The sleek, modern Craftsman was illuminated softly by warm outdoor lights.
It was a careful blend of traditional and contemporary architecture—clean, strong lines softened by dark stone accents and earth tones.
A meticulously landscaped yard, simple greenery, attractive but with no unnecessary clutter.
My home was two stories and had a three-car garage where I could keep my motorcycles and SUV, with enough room to work on them if I didn’t feel like using one of the Hounds’ garages.