With Caution: With or Without, Book 2 (11 page)

Jake grinned. “You’ve got time, it’s only two. This will be done in a minute. How do you feel? Are you sore?”

Redness seeped into Remi’s cheeks and he looked away. The blush was refreshing and Jake had to bite back a laugh. Remi was going to have to get use to the bluntness in regards to sex. It wasn’t something Jake could turn off.

“I’m fine. You need me to help with anything?”

“It’s almost ready, but why don’t you get us something to drink. Glasses are in there”—he used the spatula to point at the cabinet to his left—“and there’s water, beer, tea and cokes in the fridge. I want water.” Jake grabbed a strainer from the cabinet, put it in the sink and dumped the noodles into it. Remi went to work behind him, getting them drinks while Jake took the skillet of meat off the fire. Neither of them said a thing for several minutes while Jake put their food on plates.

“Jake?” Remi’s voice was so soft Jake barely heard it over the clatter of dishes.

He set the sauce aside and turned.

Remi stood right behind him, close enough it would have been simple to reach out and bring their bodies together. Jake wanted to do so, but he waited. The look on Remi’s face was almost sad, but Jake didn’t smell grief, just a bit of nervousness.
Oh please no.
His stomach plummeted, wondering if this was when Remi told him it was all a mistake.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry about the other night, I was…scared. Still am actually.” He glanced up, making eye contact. “If Dirk found out, there would be trouble, but I want to try and make this work. We have a connecti—”

Jake cupped his face and pulled him forward, slanting his mouth down over Remi’s.

Arousal scented the air.

Moaning into Jake’s mouth, Remi opened up. He let Jake take the lead for a few seconds then started kissing back. Hands wrapping around Jake’s waist, Remi pressed closer and rubbed himself against Jake’s bare chest.

The amazing feel of bare skin reminded Jake of earlier. He trailed kisses down Remi’s jaw to his neck. His teeth exploded in his mouth, making him gasp. The tips of his canines itched. He could practically feel Remi’s smooth, warm flesh under his teeth, the blood rolling over his tongue.
Fuck.
Jake jerked back. He kept his eyes closed and took a breath, trying to ignore the scent of Remi’s arousal, and got himself under control.

When Jake opened his eyes, Remi also appeared to be struggling for restraint. His eyes were screwed shut and he was inhaling deeply. He blinked his eyes open and rolled his shoulders, tilting his head side to side. His green irises had bled out to the edges of his eyes and his fangs peeked out from behind his top lip. “Sorry.”

“What?” Jake shook his head to clear it. “No, I just don’t want you to be late for your movie.”
Nor do I want you to pull away from me again ’cause I can’t keep my teeth to myself.
“I want to make it work too. We won’t let Dirk find out. Okay?” He traced Remi’s cheek with the back of his fingers.

Damned if Remi didn’t close his eyes and lean into the caress for a second, before his eyes shot wide and he stepped back. He groaned then chuckled, shaking his head and smiling up at Jake. “Okay.”

Jake turned back to the food. Not only did he have to hide their relationship, but he had to suppress his darker side to keep from scaring Remi away. This may prove harder than he thought.

Chapter Eight

It was a little chilly out, but Remi enjoyed the long ride to the bar. Riding his bike always helped clear his head and give him a sense of freedom.

After this afternoon, he felt great—better than he had in a long time. Jake had invited him to meet up with him tonight, and he’d jumped at the chance. He was still wary of someone finding out about them, but he wasn’t going to stop seeing Jake.

Pulling into the parking lot of Hell’s Kitchen, Remi was surprised at all the motorcycles. It was without a doubt a biker bar.
Weird.
He wouldn’t have thought it Jake’s kind of hangout.

Looking around, he saw Jake in the neon glow of the bar’s sign and all other thoughts fled.

Jake was sitting on a Harley. A beautiful new Fat Boy with a red and white tank and fenders that made Remi’s fifteen-year-old Vulcan seemed pretty shabby in comparison.

Remi’s cock hardened right up, and his sight went colorless and grew much more acute.
Damn eyes.
Instinctively he tried to fight it then remembered his resolve to let it go.

He drove up next to Jake and cut the engine, unable to decide what was more drool worthy—the bike or the man on it. Jake had on a pair of faded black jeans, black motorcycle boots and a black leather motorcycle jacket. Sterling was right, the man was hot, and it was getting easier and easier to think so. “Whose bike?”

Jake lifted his head and grinned as he caught Remi’s gaze. “Mine.”

What?
He’d had no idea Jake had a bike, much less a Hog. Apparently motorcycles were another thing they had in common. “Fucking sweet.”

“Thanks.” Jake stood and came closer. His wide shoulders captured Remi’s attention and wouldn’t let go.

Oh hell yeah, the man was more drool worthy than the machine.
Damn, look at those tight jeans.
They might as well have been painted on. Every little muscle was visible and even the not-so-little bulge in the front—

“Remi?” Jake chuckled. The sound, low and husky, slid right down Remi’s spine.

Remi shivered. His mouth watered. He’d turned into Pavlov’s dog, er wolf, whatever, except there was no bell, it was Jake’s laugh. “Huh?”

“I asked if you had any problems finding the place.”

“No.”

“Are you cold?” Jake turned toward his bike, his boots crunching on the gravel.

I’d be a lot warmer if you threw me over that bike seat and…
Damn, it felt good to let go of the guilt and just appreciate his mate.

Swiveling around, Jake held out something leather toward Remi. “Hey, Remi.”

“Yeah?”

“You okay? Here.” He handed Remi a black motorcycle jacket. “You need one, right? Yours got tore up in that fight at Chay and Keaton’s place.”

Oh man, Jake was giving him a new biker jacket to replace the one he’d lost the night he’d become a werewolf. Well, no, not new, but it was in nice shape with thick leather, and the padded lining was still good. There was a patch on the back.
Cool.
Remi tried it on over his long-sleeved black shirt. He held his arms out, trying to look over his shoulder. Ah damn, it smelled like Jake. He inhaled deeply. Mmmm, Jake and leather. “Are you sure? I don’t want to take your jacket, Jake. It’s got your club patch on it. I mean if—”

Jake touched his shoulder and squeezed. “Take it, I have a new one.” He presented his back to show Remi his coat. It had a patch identical to the one on the jacket Remi wore. It was square with a yellow moon and a black wolf. There were gray mountains and a starry midnight sky in the background.

Remi blinked, not realizing his eyes had gone back to normal until right then. “Thanks.”

Jake nodded. “Come on, let’s introduce you to the guys.”

Guys? What guys? “Uh, okay.” He followed Jake into the seedy little wood-shack-looking bar with its colorful neon beer signs hanging in the windows. It was smoky as hell and loud. The smells almost knocked Remi on his ass. Shrugging it off, he tuned them out and took in the clientele. It was a good thing Jake was big, this crowd looked rougher than the ones at Remi’s normal hangouts. Remi had only been to a place like this one other time with Simon, Chay and Bobby and thanks to Simon they’d almost gotten their asses kicked. Not that that would be an issue tonight, Remi had no intention of hustling pool.

Jake led him to the end of the bar close to the pool tables. “Men, this is Remi Lassiter.” Grabbing Remi’s shoulder, Jake pulled him forward.

A giant unfolded himself from the barstool in front of the scarred wood bar and offered Remi a hand nearly the size of a damn dinner plate.

Holy shit.
Remi’s eyes widened.

“Rhys Waya, we’ve met before.” The giant spoke deeply, like low rumbling thunder, without the slightest hint of a smile. Remi was sure he’d never have heard Rhys over the loud buzz of conversation and the jukebox if not for his wolf hearing.

Rhys was huge. Well, no, he wasn’t much bigger than Jake, but something about Rhys instantly put Remi on alert. Rhys wasn’t a bad-looking man, in fact, he was rather handsome, but everything about him screamed danger. No one in their right mind would screw with this guy. He appeared to be Native American, with the typical dark coloring, but he had a neatly trimmed beard and mustache. Remi had never seen an Apache with facial hair. He was only half and couldn’t grow a mustache to save his life. Rhys had a faint vertical scar about an inch long at the outside corner of his right eyebrow. Remi had no clue why, but he immediately thought knife wound.

Stepping back, Remi bumped right into Jake.
Shit.

Jake’s other hand landed on his shoulder, gripping a little, showing support.

It was comforting in a weird way, but then so was having Jake at his back touching him. Not that Remi thought Rhys was going to beat the hell out of him or anything, but for some reason Remi understood meeting these men meant a lot to Jake. Rhys was important to Jake, his business partner, so Remi wanted to make a good impression. When Remi tried to step forward and offer his hand to Rhys, Jake held Remi in place, keeping them close together, so he had to extend his arm further than normal. “Nice to officially meet you. My friends call me Remi.”

Giving Remi’s hand a quick squeeze, Rhys dipped his head.

Jake turned him slightly to the right and pointed at another dark-skinned man. “This is Diego, but we all call him Dago.”

Diego was about Remi’s size, with short dark hair. Taking Remi’s hand, he smiled brightly. He was a wolf. Remi wasn’t sure how he knew it, it damn sure wasn’t smell—who could smell anything over the smoke?—but he recognized Diego as pack.

“Dago?” Wasn’t that a racial slur? “That doesn’t bother you?” Remi asked.

Diego shook his head. “Nah, I’m part Italian. They’re just jealous because I got the best parts.”

Remi liked the guy, he seemed good-natured and able to handle himself. Which was a good thing in this place.

After that the introductions came pretty quickly. There were four other men, all Native American. Tank was a big guy, like Jake and Rhys, but not nearly as intimidating. He had very bright, almost sparkling eyes, complete with laugh lines at the corners. Gadget was a short, stout man who seemed preoccupied. According to Jake, Gadget was a hell of a mechanic and fixed all their bikes when the need arose. Nick had waist-length hair and was tall and lean. Zack was the loud, outgoing type. All the men welcomed Remi and he was fairly certain all of them were wolves. He’d have to ask Jake about it later.

Jake’s friends dispersed, some getting pitchers of beer and others claiming a pool table. Jake was hailed, leaving Remi alone with Rhys. Unsure what to say to the man, Remi instead soaked in his surroundings.

There were more men than women, and most everyone appeared to be wearing denim and leather, specifically black leather. Most of the women were either skimpily clad or dressed like the men. Neon beer signs decorated the place along with a jukebox and a stage. And no chicken wire enclosed the stage. Remi took that as a good sign. Maybe this place wasn’t quite as rough as he first suspected.

Someone stepped right next to Remi. “Jesus, is that what I think it is?”

“Excuse me?” Remi asked.

“That jacket.” The man was a little shorter than Remi, with light brown hair. He was a mousy-looking guy. “I’m Chance, by the way. What did you do to get it?”

“Remi.” Remi offered his hand and Chance shook it. “And what do you mean? It was given to me.”

Chance’s mouth dropped open then snapped shut. “Oh, come on, man. Jake does
not
hand out leather to wannabe submissives. Him giving you a jacket of his means you impressed him.”

Submissive? Remi blinked.

Chance focused on something over Remi’s left shoulder, then shook his head. “Jake and I were good together but he never allowed me to earn my leathers.” A wistful look crossed his face, and he made eye contact with Remi again. “Good luck. You’re one lucky son of a bitch.”

Remi suppressed a growl, but didn’t quite rein in his snarl. The image of Jake with this guy, in whatever capacity, did not sit well with Remi. And how crazy was that? The relationship was likely before he and Jake had even met.

Glancing over his shoulder, Remi spotted Jake, a little further away but still in conversation with the man who’d stopped him earlier. Remi turned back to Chance. He could barely get his mouth to work, so he settled for, “Thanks.”

Chance started to say something else but another guy pulled him away toward the back of the bar. “It was nice to meet you.”

Remi waved.

Rhys turned from the bar and crooked his finger at Remi. “Remi, what do you want to drink?”

Jake came over and touched Remi’s arm. He leaned close, his breath fanning across Remi’s cheek. “Get me a scotch?” Then Jake went back to talking.

He was just getting used to being Jake’s mate and now this? Did Jake expect him to be a submissive? He didn’t know if he could. He stared at Jake’s back, feeling like he’d been punched in the stomach. He should be mad or something, but he wasn’t…only confused. Why hadn’t Jake said anything? Remi rolled his eyes at himself. Oh yeah, that would have gone over well. Like Remi hadn’t freaked enough over the mate thing. But still…