Twisted Steel: An MC Anthology: Second Edition by Elizabeth Knox (top 5 ebook reader txt) 📕

for my pants. My cock was getting hard, but now it bobs in front of her face when she removes my pants and boxers. “Sorry, big guy, you’ve got a lot to deal with. You need rest, Cowboy.” Angie shakes her head at me and points to the bathtub.

This whole bossy nurse routine isn’t helping matters. Carefully, I slide past and then into the tub. Angie washes my hair first, then my body. My cock doesn’t get the memo to settle down and nothing I can think of is helping either. She lets me rest for a few moments before she’s back in one of my shirts that hangs down to her knees. I want to wrap my hand around my dick like a fucking teenager. Her long, tan legs are exposed, and more dirty thoughts sprout instantly with the view. Memories of the star tattoos across her hips flash in my mind. “Angie, I realize that we have to work out everything you said earlier, but I can’t think past your pussy this very second.”

“What’s your full name?” she asks, not acknowledging the raging boner for her.

“Colton Worden.”

“Nice to meet you, Colt. Angela Sarrico. Never call me Angela, it’s Angie.” She hands me a towel and I get up to wrap it around my waist. With the other towel in her hand, she dries my back then hands it to me. “My parents called me Angela, and we decided to end any ties after they called my baby names. I have a messed-up family life. My parents were the type to act hopelessly in love at parties then fuck their lovers right after. They had a messy divorce and never gave a shit about me. My last phone conversation was the end of years wishing things would change.”

Her voice has a hint of sadness. I would guess it has more to do with not having a family over actually losing her parents. I can understand it, some family by blood isn’t your family at all. It can also be the truth the other way around. “Are you Hispanic?” I ask while I dry my chest and hair. Her skin is a beautiful, flawless olive color.

She eyes me from over her shoulder on the way to my bed. “No. Italian and raised Catholic. By the way you say momma, your parents, I’m going to guess, Christian?” She pulls the covers over her lap and pulls my side down. “Jump in, we need sleep and there’s only one bed in this place, and I’ll be damned if I take your couch.”

“That would be right.” I settle into the bed. “My mom has never missed church since I was little. Dad is a good man but doesn’t go often.”

“There are two types of intimacy—real and lust. When it’s real, it’s not so hot. Goodnight, Colt. For the record, we all need friends and someone we can trust.” She flips the light off to the lamp and pulls the blankets the rest of the way up.

“Night, Miss Angela Sarrico. Thank you for your help.” Angie may be a lot of things. The few interactions we’ve had, I like what I see. Even our stories could be mirrored and chock-full of bad luck. We both avoid real intimacy and the betrayal that usually follows it. I think we could be friends, and for the both of us, it’s what is best while I navigate how to detonate her bomb from earlier.

I’m shocked she’s lying here in my bed and helping me out when I was a dick to her on her worst day. I finally fucking get why she was so pissed earlier. She didn’t want to fuck. Angie needed a friend and for me not to treat her like a job. She’s reminded me of what a friend does, and I owe her. I’ll find a way to pay her back for what she has done. One thing is for sure, Angie has me second-guessing my choices again and thinking about the man I am, or who I want to be. It doesn’t take long for the pain pills to pull me under while I think about her and where we’ve been.

12

Cowboy

Throughout the night, she took care of me. Not what I was expecting at all. Angie woke me up by running a soft touch over my skin. She made sure I had my pain meds on time. She would prop up my arm with a pillow so my shoulder wouldn’t ache, and I was comfortable. When I was wrestling with the sheets and my back ached, Angie rubbed the muscles until I calmed down. Never has a woman taken care of me like this. It would have been much worse if I didn’t have her here.

Now, her legs are tangled with mine. The soft silky skin of her thigh runs across mine, and her face is up against my arm, using it like a body pillow. Her arms are wrapped around mine, and my hand rests between her thighs, next to her heat. Fuck . . .

I don’t ever do sleepovers, but this is extenuating circumstances. She must be half asleep too because she rasps, “You okay, Colt?”

No, I’m far from it. My head is spinning, and I need my brothers to talk this through. But I don’t want to tell any of them what’s going on. I’m alone in a sinking ship. My destination feels an awful lot like a one-way ticket to an unplanned location. “I’m good, Ange. I just need to use the bathroom.” I need to get the fuck out of this bed before my dick manipulates my thinking any more than it has.

“Okay.” She rolls out and ambles around to my side. In my dresser, she finds a pair of boxers and tosses them to the bed. “You need to stretch out this morning. Your muscles are going to be hella sore today. I’ll go make us coffee.”

After I use the bathroom, she’s on her