The Moonshine Task Force Collection: The Moonshine Task Force Series

By Laramie Briscoe

Meet the series that's sweeter than tea and hotter than an Alabama summer day!

In this three-book collection of hot cops, known as the Moonshine Task Force you'll get an age-gap surprise pregnancy, a second-chance romance, and a marriage of convenience.

Renegade - When older-woman, Whitney, allows herself a one-night-stand with her younger brother's best friend, neither one expect for it to have life-long consequences. 

Tank - EMT Blaze is heart-broken when she responds to one of the worst car accidents she's ever seen. Everything changes when she realizes the man inside is the one she's never been able to forget.

Havoc - Team leader, Havoc, can't stand to see the despair in Leighton Strather's eyes when he's forced to arrest her. It hits him so hard in the gut, he knows the only thing he can do to protect her from her family, is marry her.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Laramie Briscoe
• Release date: Feb 28, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393364283

Book preview

Moonshine Task Force Collection

Moonshine Task Force Collection

Books 1-3 of the Moonshine Task Force Series

Laramie Briscoe

Laramie Briscoe Books

Contents

Also By Laramie Briscoe

Connect With Laramie

New Release Alerts

Author’s Note

Renegade - Book 1

Blurb

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty-One

Chapter Thirty-Two

Chapter Thirty-Three

Chapter Thirty-Four

Chapter Thirty-Five

Chapter Thirty-Six

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Epilogue

Tank - Book II

Blurb

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty-One

Chapter Thirty-Two

Chapter Thirty-Three

Epilogue

Havoc - Book III

Blurb

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty- Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty-One

Chapter Thirty-Two

Chapter Thirty-Three

Chapter Thirty-Four

Chapter Thirty-Five

Chapter Thirty-Six

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Epilogue

Copyright © 2017, 2018 Laramie Briscoe

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All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, transmitted downloaded, distributed, stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, without express permission of the author, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages for review purposes.

This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to any person, living or dead, or any events or occurrences, is purely coincidental. The characters and story lines are created from the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any trademarks, service marks, product names, or named features are assumed to be the property of their respective owners, and are used only for reference. There is no implied endorsement if any of these terms are used. The author recognizes the copyright of Designing Women, Julia Sugarbaker, Sons of Anarchy, Jax Teller, Monster Energy Drinks, Dixieland Delight, University of Alabama/Football, University of Tennessee/Football, Blue Bloods, WebMD, NASCAR, Hallmark, NASCAR, Talladega, SEC, and Top Gun. Except for review purposes, the reproduction of this book in whole or part, electronically or mechanically, constitutes a copyright violation.

Edited by: Elfwerks Editing

Cover Art by: Kari Ayasha, Cover to Cover Designs

Proofread by: Dawn Bourgeois

Beta Read by: Keyla Handley & Danielle Wentworth

Cover Photography: RLS Photography

Cover Model: Max Rai Fitness

Vellum flower icon Created with Vellum

For everyone who never gives up on what they want, no matter what it is. And for those little jokes each of us have in relationships – may you always ‘pew pew’ with the love of your life!

Also By Laramie Briscoe

The Haldonia Monarchy

Royal Rebel

Royal Chaos

Royal Love

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Heaven Hill Series

Meant To Be

Out of Darkness

Losing Control

Worth The Battle

Dirty Little Secret

Second Chance Love

Rough Patch

Beginning of Forever

Home Free

Shield My Heart

A Heaven Hill Christmas

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Heaven Hill Next Generation

Hurricane

Wild

Fury

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Heaven Hill Shorts

Caelin

Christine

Justice

Harley

Jagger

Charity

Liam

Drew

Dalton

Mandy

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Rockin’ Country Series

Only The Beginning

One Day at A Time

The Price of Love

Full Circle

Hard To Love

Reaper’s Girl

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The Nashvegas Trilogy

Power Couple

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The Moonshine Task Force Series

Renegade

Tank

Havoc

Ace

Menace

Cruise

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Laurel Springs Emergency Response Team

Ransom

Suppression

Enigma

Cutter

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The MVP Duet

On the DL

MVP

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The Midnight Cove Series

Inflame

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Stand Alones

Sketch

Sass

Trick

Room 143

2018 Laramie Briscoe Compilation

2019 Laramie Briscoe Compilation

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Author’s Note

While the series is called The Moonshine Task Force Series, please be aware the task force is what bought most of these men together. It’s the catalyst (if you will) that has made the friendship of the five men you’ll meet in the series.

Like most of my recent books, these are character-driven. The action, as it is, advances the storyline or sets up the storyline for subsequent books. There won’t be manufactured drama or manufactured storyline. These are very much what you see, is what you get. Each book follows one member, and you’ll get to see how they change and grow through-out the course of the series.

I hope you’ll love all these stories featuring these alpha men and the women they love!

Enjoy!

Laramie

Renegade - Book 1

Blurb

When you fall in love with the most unexpected person, at the most unexpected time…

Ryan Renegade Kepler

I’m the type of man who knows what I want. I make up my mind and stay in my lane, never veering off the course I set for myself.

Going into the military? Did it. Youngest member of the Moonshine Task Force? That’s me. Get my best friend’s older sister in bed? It was my pleasure.

Age means nothing to me. I’ve seen and done things men twice my age never will. What I want more than anything is someone to share my life with, and that person is my best friend’s older sister, Whitney.

Whitney Trumbolt

Ryan may be ten years my junior, but damn, my first time being a cougar will never be forgotten. Now I’m struggling with wanting things to either go back to the way they were or spend every night in his arms.

Make my wedding planning company the best in the south? Did it. Ignore the way my body trembles when I see Ryan? Epic fail. Freak out when I see a positive pregnancy test staring back at me? Complete with mascara running down my face and clutching my pearls.

Looks like things will never be the same. There’s a man in my life who doesn’t take no for an answer. He’s the one who makes my blood run hot, cheeks turn red, and heart beat wildly within my chest. His name is Renegade.

Chapter One

Whitney

Late March

"Ryan, I’m tellin’ you, I need my hair pulled, a red handprint across my ass, someone licking my nipples, a dick in my treasure cove. I need it all."

Drunk. I am drunk. Like way past the legal limit – otherwise I wouldn’t be sitting here spilling all my secrets to my baby brother’s best friend. The baby brother who had been totally unplanned by my parents. Ten years my junior, baby brother. He and Ryan are the same age; twenty-five to my thirty-five. Makes me feel so much older just thinking about it. Not only by age, but by life experience, too, although they’ve probably got me beat. They’re cops and have served overseas in the military. Dear Lord, I think I sound like Julia Sugarbaker from Designing Women. I’m three sheets to the wind, and nobody stopped me.

I see him try to suppress a grin as he brings his beer up to his lips, taking a nice long pull off the wide mouth. I am mesmerized by the way his throat muscles move when he swallows, pushing the liquid down his throat. No denying he’s all man. None of the boyhood shyness he always had with me is anywhere near us tonight. The palm of his hand completely covers the label, the one drink he takes drains half the bottle. For a second he focuses on my face, squinting as he watches me. How many of those have you had to drink? He points the neck of his beer to the wine glass in my hand.

His voice is as smooth as the red liquid I swirl in my glass. I tilt my head to the side, realizing the whole room goes right along with it. Counting back, I try to think how many I had before he took the seat next to mine, and I can’t remember. Five or six? I ask him, like he should know. What’s it to you, Ren-e-gade, I sound out his name by syllables. My words sound slightly slurred to my own ears. Renegade, I grin. Anybody ever tell you, you little boys and your nicknames are cute? Just like playing cops and robbers…you with your Renegade, Trevor with his Tank, I’m giggling for real now. Pew, pew! I fake shoot him with my finger gun, thinking how pissed off my brother would be if he were here right now. Not Ryan, though, he’s patient. God bless him.

You think maybe it’s time you quit for the night? He gently moves to take what I have left away from me.

His fingers are soft as they try to pry mine from around the stem, but I resist his attempts and pull it closer to my chest. The liquid sloshes and I inhale deeply, hoping not to lose any of it. I’m like a two-year-old with my blankie. This glass of wine is my security and at this moment I’ll protect it with everything I have. Once the security is gone, I’m left with nothing. I can’t be transparent tonight, I need something shielding me from my reality. I’m a woman on the prowl, and a woman on the prowl is confident in her abilities.

Quit? I ask, running my tongue over my dry lips, trying to moisten them so I can form words more easily. Quitting is not something I do. That’s what my ex-husband did. My mama did. That’s what my former boss did, I shake my head and try to stand on four-inch stilettos. He reaches out and grabs my elbow, steadying me, being a rock when I haven’t had one in a very long time. Whitney Trumbolt is not a fuckin’ quitter. I make my voice as strong and as clear as possible, I fear though that it comes out a slurred mess.

I can see Ryan try again to keep the smile from his face. The corners of his lips twitch, and it pisses me off. Not because I’m mad, but because he thinks it’s funny. He thinks this is a joke, and it’s not. It’s my life. The life I’ve been trying so desperately to get out from under or save. I’m not sure which yet. All I know is I haven’t been living and I’m damn sick of the in-between.

You think this is funny? I take another drink from my wine glass. It’s a big one this time, I drain it. There’s not one drop left when I set it back down on the bar, slapping my lips together with a satisfied pop.

No, Whit, I think you’re having a bad night. His tone is one someone would use with a kindergartner, talking them down from a temper tantrum. It pisses me off too.

A bad night? Try a bad decade. If I could do anything, it would go back to the night I turned twenty-five and be the age that Ryan is again. I would do so many things differently, I would change so much about the choices I made back then. You know nothing about me, other than the fact that I’m Tank’s older sister.

He grabs me by the wrist, locking his hand around the flesh. I feel his fingers lightly touch the skin and bone. It’s more of a caress than a warning. I never realized until this moment how much bigger he is than me. Never really paid any kind of attention to it – oh I’ve paid attention to him off and on through-out the years, but never like this.

Ryan Renegade Kepler rises to his full height, towering over me as I do my best to keep my footing and ignore the way my skin tingles where he grips my wrist. He leans in close – so close I can feel his breath on my skin.

I know a lot of things about you that you don’t think I know.

His voice is hard and soft at the same time. I close my eyes to savor it, to try and figure out how he’s able to do both. Maybe it’s my drunken mind, but he’s magic to me in this instant. The deep timbre rushes over me as I try to understand his words, but I’m having a hard time. This is the closest I’ve been to a man in a very long time. My body is at attention, as is my libido. I press my thighs together as I dig my heels in deeper, not because I don’t want him to move me, because I ache. It’s an ache that’s never been fulfilled, if I’m honest.

I know that you love your mama’s fried chicken, your grandmother’s homemade mac and cheese, Alabama football, and Dale Earnhardt Jr. I know that you have a soft heart. Hallmark movies make you cry, you pick up strays on the side of the road, and you always buy that homeless man near the Starbucks a morning coffee, he lulls me into a sense of security. Making me want to believe there is someone out there who listens when I talk, someone who looks at me and sees a brain behind my blonde hair.

I’m wrapped up in his voice, in the things he does know about me. Things I never knew he paid attention to. I’m swaying, but it’s because his voice is doing weird things to my equilibrium. His other hand cups my hip and I can feel the heat of his body through the material of my skirt. My thighs burn as they’re pressed against his where we stand.

I know that your ex-husband was a piece of shit. I know that your ex-boss didn’t know what the hell to do with the creative genius that is your mind, and I know that your mama will never forgive you for giving up pageants, but she’ll never forgive herself for pushing you that damn hard, he stops and pulls back, giving me his eyes and face to stare at.

Our eyes meet – his brown to my blue – and I realize with clarity that I’m breathing hard, hard enough that it feels as if I’ve run a marathon. The loss of his strong body against mine makes me want to cry. I want to grasp at his clothing, pull him back in, and let him heat up parts of me that have been cold for so long.

You wanna know what else I know? The question is asked in a way that says he’s not sure if he wants an answer. The way his face closes off and he withdraws slightly into himself make me think this is a secret he’s not shared with anyone. Tonight, I want him to share it with me; I want to be the person he confides in. He knows so much about me, I want to know everything about him too. There’s a string of awareness stretched between us, and it’s pulling me closer.

I’m captivated by the way the dim lights of the bar make his brown eyes darker, I’m enthralled by the fact that it looks like it’s been a few days since he shaved, and I’m even more fascinated by the cut he has on his cheek. He and Tank went out on a call last night, and I can’t help but wonder if that cut is the result of a dangerous night doing a dangerous job.

I shake my head and then nod, because I’m conflicted in my drunkenness, but I do want to find out what else he knows. I step forward, put my arms around his neck, and lean up so that now I’m the one in his ear. The truth of the matter is I need to feel close to him, I want the heat back he’s taken away from me. I’m cold without it, and I’m sick to death of being cold. Tell me what else you know.

I see him look around the bar, checking to make sure that we’re not being paid any attention to. He bends with his knees and grips my ass cheeks in the palms of his hands, bringing us flush together so our bodies touch. His voice is dark as he all but growls. I know I’m the one who can put my dick in that treasure cove. I know I’m the one that can pull that hair, I can pull on those nipples, and I can smack this ass, he squeezes my flesh like he owns it, where his hands rest. The question is – will you let me?

It’s not a question I can say no to. The way the air crackles between us, the alcohol I’ve consumed, and the sudden fascination I have with his heat. There’s not any way that I can say no nor is there any desire on my part to deny it. I’ve denied myself a lot of things in this life and this right here is not something that I want to brush off. This is God giving me what I want on a silver platter, a sacrificial offering for the shit I’ve gone through the past few years. This is my Cinderella moment and my SEC Championship all tied together into one great big bow. Over six feet and two hundred pounds of bow. If I say no, Lord, never offer me anything else because I’m gonna be a nun for the rest of my life.

You’re what? He asks, a glimmer of surprise and playfulness in his eyes.

I said that out loud? Never mind, I can fix this.

Yes, I breath out, adding on a please.

Oh baby, you don’t have to beg. I’ll do whatever you need me to, Ryan says as I find my hand in his and stumble to keep up as he pulls us out of the bar. We pass people we’ve known our whole lives, clients I’ve helped to the altar, and I’m pretty sure we just passed the Deacon of the church. No one stops us as we hit the front door. I gulp in the fresh air, sure as the world my senses are going to come to me.

Guess what? They don’t. I’m in for whatever this full moon-lit night is going to bring us. Safe Whitney is not putting the brakes on a ride crazier than a lap at Talladega. No, Wild Whitney has taken her place. Funny how both are four letter words, yet they couldn’t be further apart.

In mere minutes I’m in his truck, and we’re headed towards my house. I will myself not to pass out, because for the first time in years, I want to be here and present for this experience that’s about to happen. I want to remember every damn detail. If it’s only going to be for this one night, I don’t want to miss a thing.

Chapter Two

Renegade

Fun fact: All of the material from my teenage spank bank is sitting in my truck next to me right now. Whitney Trumbolt (thank God she took back her maiden name) was the star of every fantasy I’d ever had when I’d been a young, horny guy. Back then I’d been skinnier and much less confident in myself, and if I’d ever been able to get inside her, I probably would have lasted all of three seconds.

Now, I go by the nickname Renegade and I’m a member of a specialized task force, along with my regular job as a cop here in Laurel Springs, Alabama. My job is sometimes dangerous and allows me to put my military training to good use. I get to use my hands, brain, and best of all, I get to arrest dumbasses that love to break the law. All in all – it’s a win-win. We’re not a large enough town to have to worry about crime, but Jesus do we have a booming illegal moonshine business. Even though it’s not illegal to make anymore, it’s sure as fuck illegal not to pay taxes on it and not keep it below the maximum alcoholic volume.

You still live over here on Magnolia? I ask. I want her to think I haven’t been keeping track of her, but the truth of the matter is – I have. The fact that Tank is my best friend lets me keep tabs without seeming like a fucking stalker. I simply like to know how she’s doing.

Yup, she giggles. That’s the one thing the motherfucker didn’t get in the divorce.

My eyebrows raise to my hairline as I hear the words coming out of her mouth. Wow, her tongue has loosened. Normally Whitney is the epitome of a true southern debutante. She wears her pearls, her blonde hair is curled just so, and you won’t catch her skirt over her knee or those words ever being spoken. Maybe I should get her drunk more often. So far it’s been a revelation. We’ll be there in a few minutes. I look over at her, realizing she’s leaning against the glass of the window. Don’t pass out on me now.

She doesn’t say anything and I wonder if maybe she’s rethought what she offered. Since we got into the truck, she hasn’t turned towards me, she hasn’t tried to touch me, and if I didn’t know better, I’d say she’s almost gone for the night. Part of me expects to hear soft snores coming from her side of the truck. Turning on my blinker, I pull into her drive and let it idle there for a few moments before turning it off. If you’ve had second thoughts about this… I start. I’m nothing if not a gentleman and truthfully, I don’t want there to be any weirdness between us. I spend holidays with the Trumbolts. Maybe time and a little bit of sobering up has changed her mind.

God I hope not. When I walked into the bar tonight, I couldn’t believe my eyes. Tank had a date, and I hadn’t wanted my own company, so I’d decided to go have a beer. Imagine my surprise when I walked in and saw Whitney holding court over almost every man there. I’d shot them all looks of death and then taken the seat next to her. When I realized exactly how drunk she was, I made it my mission to find out what the hell was going on.

I steel myself against the realization that this is probably going to backfire in a big way. Allowing myself to glance over at her, I’m surprised as hell when she meets my eyes, offers me a saucy smile and lifts her hips off the leather of the seat. My dick, which has been a good guy throughout all the talk of treasure coves and nipple play, makes itself known at that moment as it punches against the denim encasing it. I reach down and palm the hardness laying beneath the hard ridge of my jeans, hoping to find a more comfortable position for it to lay. When you’re faced with your teenage dreams coming true, you man up and do whatever it takes to make them happen.

Change my mind? I watch as she pulls her shirt down, flashing me a little skin. Not a chance, Renegade. Tonight I’m gonna do things I’ve never done before. She lifts her hands up like she did at the bar, making finger guns as she pew pew’s me again, laughing so hard she lets out an unladylike snort.

With that, she’s shrieking and jumping down from my truck, running into her house.

It takes me all of five seconds to follow her. When she playfully slams the door in my face, I wonder if she’s going to lock it, but I test the knob and find out that I can easily turn it. As soon as I enter the darkened house, I’m on high alert. This is what I do for a living, chase people. My hearing is exceptional, my night vision is incredible, and I can sense where someone is, usually within a few inches. This woman has nothing on me. Tilting my head to the side, I hear her, she’s breathing – not as hard as she will be later, if she lets me follow through, but it’s loud enough that I can hear it.

I turn my body to face hers, let my eyes adjust, and see her standing just inside the hallway with her back pressed tightly against the wall. It’s almost like she’s trying to blend in, but Whitney’s never been able to blend in. She’s always had a spark about her, always stood tall and beautiful in the face of any storm. Why she thinks she’ll be hiding in the dark right now is beyond me. Stalking over to her, I box her in by placing my hands on either side of her shoulders and lean forward so close that our lips are almost touching. I tilt my head sideways, almost capturing the kiss I want. We’re sharing breath we’re so close, but I don’t take it. I want the decision to be hers and hers alone.

Last chance to back out. Otherwise, prepare to have everything you told me about in the bar come true, I give her five seconds, because that’s all I can wait. It’s all I have the patience for. Teenage me is seeing every one of his wet dreams come true, while adult me is ready to show this woman what I have in my repertoire. What’s it gonna be, Whit?

Whitney

His words taunt me, his body tempts me. There are so many voices telling me I shouldn’t want this, that this won’t end well, but fuck those voices. Those same voices told me that my marriage would last forever and that I’d be a mother by now. They told me that it was my responsibility to be a good wife. I was and the asshole ruined me – he completely broke my heart – and I’m doing everything I can to get a little piece of the old Whitney back. Is this my best idea ever? Probably not, but damnit, I want this, I need this.

Sober Whitney would be telling Ryan to take himself somewhere else, that he’s too young and I’m too damaged, but Doormat Whitney isn’t in charge right now. This Whitney wants everything she’s never had. She wants to experience all the things she’s heard about. Giving myself up for the night is exactly what I want. It’s only one night…right? After this, I can go back to being the woman who makes dreams come true for everyone else. For one night, I can feel like a real woman. I can feel like someone who’s wanted instead of someone that was thrown away and forgotten about.

My voice is breathless. I don’t want to back out. I wanna know what you taste like, what you feel like, how your fingers grip me when you’re fucking me. Tonight, I want it all.

Truthfully, I don’t even recognize my own voice, I don’t recognize the decisions I’m making. These are the desperate decisions of a woman who’s been pushed too far – a woman who’s been told too many times that she’s not worth it. I want to be worth it. I want to feel worthy, even if it’s only once.

Relax, he whispers as his hands come off the wall and bury themselves in my hair, making me glad I wore it down and loose tonight.

His fingertips massage my scalp in a motion that lulls me into a sense of security before he tugs slightly, tilting my head back so that I expose my neck to his lips. His mouth is hungry, his tongue wet as it laps at the skin there. I can feel the rasp of his five o’clock shadow, the sharpness of his teeth as he scores the flesh, and then the warmth of his tongue as he soothes the burn.

My arms go around him, holding onto his neck and pushing my fingers up into the short hair on his head, threading them through so I can hold him closer to me. I want him to inhale me, I want him to eat me up and not make any apologies about it. If there’s anything he could give me, it would be the wild rush into passion. I’ve never felt that before. I’ve never had one of those movie love scenes where the two people just can’t keep their hands off one another. I want that tonight, more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life.

His hands move from my hair down my shoulders, grasping the edges of my collar. The plaid button-down I have on is only held together by snaps which easily release when he pulls roughly on the seams. Pushing the useless fabric from my body, he devours me. I can feel his gaze on me, but I’m not happy with that. I want to see it, the hunger, the way he looks upon me. Prying my eyes open, I take in the look on his face and hold it tightly. His face says it all; this is a man who enjoys what he’s looking at. His gaze is hot and hungry. It makes me self-conscious and it takes everything I have not to cover myself up. I’ve never felt this exposed before. While it’s frightening, it’s also a huge turn on, especially when I look down and see the hard-on tenting his jeans.

I’m not young like you’re used to, I make the excuse, diverting my gaze. So far he hasn’t given me any indication he’s not turned on by me, but some men can get it up no matter who they’re with. But I work out four times a week, because I have to, otherwise my anxiety ramps up too much and I can’t even live with myself.

His hands cup my hips, curling in at my waist, squeezing the firm skin before moving them up, towards the material that holds the heavy weight of my chest up. His hands don’t stop as he uses his fingers to push my flesh up over the lacy tops before he leans in and swipes the hard tips with the edge of his tongue. I slap my palms back against the wall, grasping for something to hold onto in order to anchor myself. If this were a movie, it would be Top Gun, you know that scene where all you see is tongue in the moonlight as a shadow? I always loved that damn movie, and I always envisioned having that very sex scene.

You’re gorgeous.

I want to believe it, because the way he says it, makes me want to. His voice is raw, the words raspy and gravelly as he breathes them out. They make me want to revel in them. If I were brave, I’d thrust my tits out, spread my legs a little, and welcome him into the cradle of them. Unfortunately, inviting him in here has taken up all my bravado tonight.

I bet you say that to all the women, I give him a shy smile, not fishing for a compliment. I’m not used to them, and I have no idea how to react to them. Something tells me that Ryan Kepler is a very generous lover with a totally silver tongue.

No, he shakes his head, face serious. Normally, I just tell them to flip over, stick their ass up, and prepare to be fucked. You, he stops, running his tongue along his bottom lip as he steps closer into my personal space. For you I’ll make an exception.

All of a sudden I’m scared to death, but this fear is something I’ll never run from.

Chapter Three

Renegade

I can’t believe this woman doesn’t know how beautiful, how gorgeous, or how sexy she is. I can see it in her eyes; she questions it. I know from being around the family what an asshole her ex-husband was, but I didn’t know it was this bad. In my mind I try to think back to the times I saw them together, but nothing ever stood out at me. Whitney just got quieter and quieter over the years, but I figured that was her personality changing. Now I’m wondering if it was all due to her marriage. I’m not sure even they know it was this bad. My mission tonight is clear. Show this woman how gorgeous she is and how bad I want to get deep inside her body.

Which way’s the bedroom? Most of the time I’ve been around her has been at her family’s home, not this one she’s made for herself. As a couple, she and Stephen never invited anyone over. I always thought it was because they liked to keep their private life private – as in they were just private people. Now I’m beginning to wonder if there wasn’t something else going on behind the scenes. The way she’s reacting to me is throwing up all kinds of red flags. I purposely keep my touch on her light.

Bashfully, she buries her face in my neck, inhaling deeply before she points down the hallway. On the right, she tells me, her voice muffled against my skin.

I turn to my right and walk us through the doorway. Once I’m there, I take a look around and my jaw almost drops. It’s the most feminine thing I have ever seen in my life. It’s completely and totally Whitney in every way possible. I’m surprised the fucking sheets don’t have monograms on them. From where I stand, I can see that they are Tiffany blue. Once upon a time, I didn’t know what that color was – I called it blue green – and you would have thought it was the end of the world. As a teenager, I didn’t know how important the distinction would be. She made sure I knew the difference; she takes this shit seriously.

I let her body slide down mine until she’s on her high heels, steadying her. Take those off, Whit, you’re not gonna need them the rest of the night.

She listens, turning to kick them in the general direction of her closet and it’s then that I realize how much smaller she is than me. With those shoes gone, she barely reaches my collarbone. It’s not that I haven’t known but being this close, knowing that I’m going to cover her with my body in a few minutes and take what we both want, makes me worry about hurting her. I fight the urge to pull her in, cradle her head against my chest, and tell her everything is going to be okay. That’s not what she needs tonight, that’s not what she wants, and it sure as fuck isn’t what she’s asked me for. Her body wants to use mine, and I’m down for doing whatever is needed to make that happen.

What do you want me to do to you? What’s your fantasy? I ask, my voice low as I move in behind her and wrap my arms around her waist. Not giving her time to overthink, I move my hands to her tits, palming them, teasing the nipples as I wait for her answer. When she doesn’t speak, I make a vow again, pulling her head back against my shoulder and tilting her chin up so I can see her in the dim light the moon is casting through the curtains. I’m going to give you whatever you want.

Her voice is breathless when she answers me. It’s rough, raw, but it’s firm, so I know there’s no second-guessing here. I want everything you would do with a one-night stand; everything I talked about at the bar. Use me the way I want to use you. I turn her around to face me so I can make sure she’s being truthful. She’s never had much of a poker face.

The rosy blush that’s covering her cheeks tells me those words were hard for her to say and I’ll be fucking damned if I’m going to use her, but I’ll give her the best night of her life…or pull my groin trying. Lowering my face to hers, I brush a soft kiss against her mouth. Birth control? I ask.

Her chin wobbles, lower lip sticks a teeny bit farther out than her upper one. The words she speaks are low, and thick with sadness. You’re covered. I can’t have kids.

The words hit my gut like I’ve been shot, but I recover quickly. This is something I’m not even sure Tank knows and I’ll take it to the grave with me if I have to. Doesn’t matter to me, I answer shooting her a hot smile, hoping to bring the mood back up.

I look into her eyes, memorizing the way they appear in this moment. In the muted light of the room, I can’t see the color, but I can see her pupils are dilated and cloudy with desire. I want to keep that look there and possibly add aroused and hungry to it as well. You ready, Whit? I ask.

For what? Her voice is hushed in the quiet room.

Leaning in, I put my lips at her ear, nibbling softly on the lobe. Everything.

Whitney

My body shivers as his breath washes over the skin of my ear. I can feel the heat everywhere, I want him like I’ve never wanted anyone before. There is a part of me that wants him to take me, but there’s also a part of me that wants to be a participant, and give him everything I’ve never been able to give another man. Reaching my arms up, I wrap them around his neck and pull him down so we’re face-to-face. I lean in so our lips are millimeters apart; we’re breathing the same air, and I want so badly to touch his skin to mine but I pull back at the last second.

Ryan’s lips chase me, causing my heart to pound, my pulse to skyrocket, and a wetness between my thighs. When they catch mine, I let him swallow me up, I let him take the lead. His tongue is smooth velvet as it glides against mine, devouring me in a way I’ve never been devoured before. When he pulls away, I chase him. I’m dying to be closer to him. So when he palms my ass with his hands, I let my weight rest there as I lift my legs and wrap them around his waist, pushing against him as he pulls me closer.

There’s an urgency in our movements, in the way we’re kissing, and the way our hands are suddenly fighting with one another. One arm loosens its hold from his neck and moves down to the waistband of his jeans, shoving his shirt up over what I feel are tight abs. As I pull it up to his collarbone, he wrenches his mouth from mine, allowing me to finish bringing it up and over his head.

Wow, I’m looking at his chest and abs like I’ve never seen a man’s body before. In reality I’ve not seen one that looks like his. He’s cut in ways I’ve only dreamed about, all lined muscle and tone flesh with a tattoo on his left pec and another that wraps around his right bicep all the way down to his elbow. I can’t make out what either is, and right now I don’t much care. Tattoos have never been a thing for me, but right now I’d like to color both of these in with the tip of my tongue. I realize I’ve blurted those words out loud when he chuckles against me, small puffs of hot air gusting against my face.

Whatever you want, Whit, he tells me again as he sets me down softly on my feet. My toes curl into the plush carpet, almost like they know what I’m about to do. They’re getting prepared to curl for a different reason.

I want everything and more. A lot that we don’t have time for, and a lot that I’m not emotionally prepared to handle. We have one night, and I want it to count. The way my life has gone means I might never get this chance again. I make quick work of his belt and unbutton his shorts, slipping them off the lower part of his body and letting it drop in a puddle at our feet. Our eyes meet and I’m breathless as I make out the passion glowing from his. Whatever this is between us, he’s taking it seriously. I want you to show me what I’ve been missing.

He growls – a rough noise that lifts the hairs on my forearms – as he sinks down to his knees in front of me, slightly pushing me back so I land on the bed. The force is enough that I let my elbows take my weight. Gazing at him over the edge of my body, I wonder what he’s going to do with me once he gets my legs spread. A vague thought that he’s going to not only worship but ravage me races through my mind. I’m completely on board with whatever he wants to do. Strong hands pull me forward on the bed, almost far enough that I can touch the floor with my feet, but instead, he stops before my feet can make the connection again. He leaves me hanging, suspended, and even that excites me. Getting up from his knees, he moves so that he’s kneeling between my thighs and places a kiss on my stomach before he lifts his eyes to mine.

Lift up your arms, sweetheart, his voice is low, seductive, and fucking sexy as he brings my tank top over my head. My bra is meant for sin; a hot pink number that is cut low. If I make one move too fast, you can see a nipple. I know, because I checked. My underwear? They match. I had a plan tonight. It’s up in the air if I would have gone through with it had I not run into Ryan.

Shit, why do you keep these covered up? he asks, bringing his palms up to the sides of my breasts, using his thumbs to agitate my nipples into hard buds. They’re pulling taut, begging for his mouth.

Please, Ryan, I use my elbows to push myself towards him. He doesn’t need to know my shyness, doesn’t need to know that it took me a shot of vodka and a shot of Jim Beam to even put these clothes on and walk out of my house tonight. All he needs to know is that I want his lips on my nipples, I want his length inside my body, and I want to be screaming with release as soon as possible.

I don’t have to ask twice as he leans forward and captures my flesh in between his teeth, scoring the nub lightly, before he soothes it with his tongue. I dig my fingers into his shoulders as he leans closer to me, spreading my legs further apart. I dent those strong shoulders with my nails, yanking against his skin, wanting his weight on top of me, wanting to feel it more than I’ve ever wanted to feel anything.

He makes one nipple stand at attention before he does the same to the other, causing me to grasp him under his arms and pull him up and over me. I’m holding him as tightly and as closely as I can. My subconscious is scared he’ll leave before he’s done, before I’m done. Now, Ryan, I can’t wait. Now, please, I beg him.

He spreads out over top of me. Grasping my hands, he puts our palms together and stretches them up over my head, entwining our fingers. Hold on, he rasps as he slides deep inside me.

It takes my breath, the feeling of him stretching my core, of his hardness inside me. It’s something I wanted, but until this moment, I never knew I did. I feel tears prick the back of my eyes, because Ryan is a thousand times more tender than my ex-husband ever was, even being as rough as he is. It’s something I want, something I need. I hook my legs around his hips, urging him on, digging my heels into his ass. Even the words I’m thinking are dirtier tonight than they’ve ever been. Finally, I’ve given myself permission to be a woman who knows what she wants. Damn the consequences.

Faster, I breathe out against the heat of his neck as I bury my mouth there. I haven’t come from anything other than my hand in such a long time, even when I was married. Ryan, get me there, I’m straining against him, wanting to let the feeling wash over me, dying for this orgasm.

C’mon Whit, you’re feelin’ it, baby. I can feel you tightening against me.

He’s right, I am. He’s thrusting and withdrawing at such a pace, I feel like I’m in a souped up foreign car running the quarter mile. I’m heading on a one-way course to coming, and I want it so bad I can taste it.

Just let it go, babe, let it go, he tells me as he shoves deep inside me, and let’s go of my hands to tilt my ass. He bottoms out and grinds against my clit. It’s a move no one’s ever used on me before, and good gracious, if they had, I’d know what a spectacular orgasm was before now.

That’s all I need. All the tension breaks loose and I arch into his caress, closing my eyes tightly, letting the feeling wash over me.

Ryan! I moan, feeling him spill inside me, as I pulse against him.

Like that, my world brightens, changes, and spins so far off its axis that I’m not sure it’ll ever be straight again. As I try to come to grips with what I’ve done, all I can do is smile a sappy grin. For once, I did something for myself – damn the consequences. For once, I’m happy. With a giggle, I make a soft little pew pew because if it hadn’t been for Renegade, I wouldn’t be here.

Chapter Four

Whitney

Hot, I’m so hot, burning up in fact. I don’t remember ever being this hot in my life, and there’s something pressing against me. A gentle pressure that I’m feeling at the core of my body. Using my hand, I move down to where I feel the pressure, and feel hair. Prying my eyes open, I look down, only to see Ryan’s head between my legs.

Oh my God, I breathe out as I feel his tongue lick up against my clit. His fingers grip the flesh of my thighs, holding them open with his shoulders to give himself room. Don’t stop, I beg him, grasping the tips of his hair, yanking his mouth closer to me.

I’m grinding against his tongue, wondering how long he’s been doing this because I’m there already. Normally it takes me a while to loosen up, to let myself go and feel. My ex-husband, he never went down, so this is a treat I wasn’t expecting. I’ve also never been woken up for sex, so I’m going to enjoy this while I can. Three ticks off the never done before list in less than twenty-four hours. I’m feeling mighty proud of myself.

Pressing my body down against his face, I’m trying to widen my thighs even more when he inserts two fingers inside of me and then uses his tongue to flick my clit. That’s all it takes. I can’t stop moving, rotating my thighs to try to get closer. I’m screaming, grasping hold of his hair. He’s with me the entire way, never letting up no matter which way I move. Ryan sticks with me, his lips never detach from mine.

Pushing against his head, I move him. Please, so sensitive. My words are still slurred, but I think this time I’m sex drunk instead of wine drunk.

He lets go, then uses his hands on my thighs to flip me over onto my stomach.

In the darkness, I hear his words, rough with sleep and hard with arousal. Grab the headboard, Whitney.

Ohhh, this is also something I’ve only ever done a few times. I like this side of Ryan. I try to tell him, but as he thrusts inside me, the breath and words are taken from my throat. Shit, I let my head fall against the headboard, resting my hot cheek against the cool wood. It’s the one thing that’s keeping me grounded. The way he’s pounding into me makes me feel like I can fly.

What did you say to me earlier tonight, Whit? he pants into my ear as he layers himself over my body. His sweaty chest slips against my back. You needed a red handprint on your ass?

I’m trying to think as I tilt my head back, sucking in air, trying to focus my eyes. I think, oh God, he grips my hip as he pushes even deeper. I think that’s what I said, I pant, grabbing for anything I can use to anchor myself.

He lifts himself up and that’s when I feel his palm connect with my ass cheek. It shocks me, making me scream, but in a really good way.

That what you wanted?

It’s everything I wanted and more. Yes!

And then I can’t form anymore words as he smacks my flesh again before he grips my hips, resting his forehead on my back. The only thing I can hear are his grunts and the deep intake of both our lungs trying to get oxygen, before I feel him erupt inside of me.

Turning me onto my side, he spoons me from behind, using his index finger to flick my clit. I feel myself fly again as I explode.

One thing is for sure. I won’t ever forget this night. Those are the last thoughts I have before sleep overtakes me again.

The sun is bright as it tries to invade the darkness of my closed eyes. I moan, those rays feel like safety pins poking small holes in the blanket of my eye lids. I’ve never felt like this before, even when I was a college co-ed and indulged in a few frat parties. My tongue is stuck to the roof of my mouth, and I am hot, so hot. Which is weird, because I’m usually freezing. I reach down to pull the cover off me, only to figure out that I can’t pull it off, it’s heavy – as if something has pinned it down or snagged the edge. Even as I grunt and yank with all my might, I can’t make it budge.

I pry an eye open and glance to the other side of the bed. Laying there, with the blanket down to his waist and half of it wrapped around him is Ryan Kepler. What in the world is he doing in my bed? I gasp, because there’s nothing else for me to do, as I move away from him. It’s then that I feel the soreness between my thighs and memories of the night before flash through my head like a movie. It’s almost as if I’m outside my body watching us as they flood back to me. I slept with my little brother’s best friend. Holy shit! My movements must disturb him because he rolls so he’s facing me and gives me the hottest smile I’ve ever seen in my life. It makes every part of my body tingle and tremble. Every part he touched last night relives it right there in that moment.

Morning.

His voice is everything, it makes me close my eyes as I let it run through me. It’s rough and deep with sleep, tinted with the southern accent of our hometown, and I can hear all the words he said to me last night as he thrust his body into mine. It causes my face to burn, and I know right now that I have to get him out of my bed, out of my house, out of my life. I can’t believe what I’ve done. I’m an addict that’s taken her first hit of heroin.

Morning, I tell him back as I get up, hugging the comforter to my naked body. I push the sheet towards him, hoping he remains covered. My eyes don’t meet his. I can’t bring myself to do it, I can’t make myself look at him and lay myself bare, it’s not how I’m hardwired – not after five years of marriage to a man who ended up either scaring or humiliating me on an almost daily basis.

There’s a sigh, and I realize that it’s not mine. It’s his.

So that’s how it’s going to be? His tone doesn’t mask the hurt.

What do you mean? I can plainly hear the disappointment. I’m still not meeting his eyes, can’t stand to see what the look in them must be.

You know exactly what I mean, Whitney, this time it’s clipped and pissed.

I hear him fling the sheet off and brace myself for the raised voice, the accusation, the humiliation, but it doesn’t come. Nothing happens and that makes me even more nervous. Finally curiosity wins out and I have to know what’s going on. I lift my eyes and see him looking at me as he quietly puts his clothes on with jerky movements.

I’m sorry, I whisper, because I am. I wish this could be different; wish like hell that I could be different. But I’m not. I haven’t been able to move on that far yet, and I don’t know when I’ll ever be able to.

His face is dark, the beard growth covering his cheeks and chin, his hair is an absolute mess, and he looks dangerous with his chest exposed, tattoo showing. You got what you wanted didn’t you? You proved to yourself that the fuckface you married didn’t break you completely. That’s what you needed – right?

He has this all wrong. It is what I needed, but not this way. Yes it was about using each other, but I never wanted it to feel cheap, and this morning, that’s exactly how it feels. You don’t understand, I shake my head. You’re too young to get it.

His head snaps up, and now he’s pissed. Before he had been irritated, now there’s a rage. I can feel it coming off him in waves, see it in the way his eyes narrow. The words he flings with his irritation exposed, hits me harder than any fists ever could. Don’t tell me how young I am, Whitney. I’ve seen and done things you can’t even imagine.

While I’m sure that’s true, I have ten years of life experience on him and I can’t say that I’m proud of what I did last night. If someone had slept with my brother and they were my age, there would definitely be some judgement – mine included – pointed toward them. I can’t change that I feel a little dirty about what I’ve done.

I try again, using the tone I use with customers who are upset about the service they’ve received. It doesn’t happen often, but I do know how to soothe ruffled feathers. I don’t want to offend you.

Too late, sweetheart, he says as he yanks the shirt over his head, blocking my view of that tattoo.

This isn’t how I meant for this to go, I try again, holding the blanket against my middle. I can recognize that I’m bent over trying to disappear into myself, making my body smaller as not to attract his attention. I always have to explain myself, I always have to make sure that I’m understood, it gives me anxiety not to be understood.

He finishes putting his clothes on and then sits down on the bed, covering his feet with boots. When he gets up and buttons his jeans, he walks over to me. Ryan raises his hands and I immediately pull into myself, flinching away from him, without meaning to.

Awareness flashes in his eyes, and then his jaw sets even harder than it was. Jesus, Whit, he whispers.

I try to keep the tears out of my eyes, but it doesn’t work. Yeah, I pull my bottom lip between my teeth, looking anywhere but at him. There’s nothing else to say. He now knows every humiliation I’ve suffered.

His touch is tender as he cups my face in his palms. They’re warm and I want to bury myself there, let him make all of my hurts better. I’m not sure I can ever give anyone that power over me again, though. I think I do understand, and you shouldn’t have kept that from anyone, he swallows hard, sighing again. And if this is what you needed, then I’m glad I could be the man to give it to you.

Thank you, I tell him. I’m so grateful for him. I’m so thankful that he gave me back this part of myself, even if only for a few hours.

Doesn’t mean that it doesn’t kill me, because there’s so much I want to say to you right now, but I know you aren’t ready for it.

He’s right, I’m not ready for anything more than this, at all, and I’m lucky that he recognizes it and is man enough to realize this isn’t about him. It’s about me. This is all completely about me.

I’ll never forget what you did for me, I tell him, clearing my throat. Last night means the world to me.

He opens his mouth but doesn’t say anything. He rocks on the balls of his feet, then shakes his head.

Leaning forward he kisses me, softly but thoroughly, leaving an imprint on me that I’m not sure will ever go away.

He lets me go and walks towards the doorway of the bedroom, but he turns at the last minute. I’m gonna be honest, because this could be my only chance, he stops and takes a breath, seems to collect himself. You’ll never know how much this, he waves his arms towards the bed, means to me.

With that he’s gone, and I’m left to try and process just what in the world I’ve done. Those consequences I was damning last night hurt in the harsh daylight of the morning.

Chapter Five

Whitney

What brings you here today? the female Doc Miller asks me. I purposely requested her when I called for an emergency appointment. The receptionist went to high school with me and knew by the shock in my voice I needed to see someone today, although I didn’t tell her about my positive pregnancy tests. I’m just lucky the clinic is open until seven at night.

I