Smith (The Beckett Boys, #1) - Olivia Chase


I whip the door open and see Aubrey spin around from the center of the room, her gaze a little nervous, her fingers twisting in front of her. A quick glance around and at the bottom of the two stalls shows no one else is in here.

I turn the lock and click it closed behind us. Stalk toward her. “You came here tonight for me, didn’t you,” I say.

She swallows, nods. Releases her fingers and presses her hands to the sides of her jeans.

“I hope you’re ready.”

“For what?” Her words are barely a breath when I grab her by the waist and angle her ass toward the bathroom sink. In a moment I have her jeans unbuttoned. In another, they are unzipped and sliding down her skin. My hands glide along her thighs and I can’t fight the sigh that escapes my mouth. Her skin feels like heaven.

Fuck me so badly, because Aubrey’s thighs are curvy and fleshy and beckoning me to bury my face between them. And that little scrap of black lacy fabric she calls panties aren’t going to keep me away from tasting her cunt.

I rip her jeans down, and she gasps, reaching a hand out to grip my shoulder to steady herself. She lifts her legs and gets out of them, then does it again when I tug down those panties. I scoop them in my hand and bring them to my nose.

Smell her pussy heat.

God help me, my dick pounds hard when I breathe her scent in. Fuck, if she smells this good, she probably tastes like everything I’ve ever dreamed of.

I grab her bare ass and lift her onto the bathroom countertop. She sucks in a sharp breath, her lips parting. I reach up and grip her hair and tug her mouth to mine.

Yes, fuck yes. Her mouth slants over mine and opens easily, without me even having to ask. Her body grows soft, pliant against me. She stays right where I put her, not moving even an inch.

Fuck me. Aubrey is submissive. Every part of her body, of her reactions toward my natural dominance, screams it. How far do I dare to push this?

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SMITH (The Beckett Boys, Book One) by Olivia Chase



The moment I walk into Outlaws, I instantly realize how much I stick out. Worse than a sore thumb. More like a sore limb, or a sore whole body. Silly me, I thought my skinny jeans and slim-fitting T-shirt would be appropriate for a bar, but many of the women in here are wearing tiny, skin-hugging skirts and sexy shirts that make me look like a nun in comparison.

My face burns when several burly, greasy-looking men turn and stare my way, their gazes raking me up and down for a moment before visually dismissing me, but I make myself continue walking through the propped-open front door into the bar.

The floor crunches underneath my ballerina flats. I think it’s peanut shells I’m walking on but I can’t say for sure, and I’m kinda too scared to look at what it is. Instead, I find a space at the end of the beat-up wooden slab of a bar and slide onto the rickety bar stool.

Some kind of rock with a heavy thudding beat throbs through the large room, which is dimly lit. I hear the crack of a pool cue hitting a ball, dozens of people laughing and talking. The air in here smells like beer and warm sweat—there’s no air conditioning, but thankfully there’s a fresh breeze wafting in through the open door.

I suck in a deep breath, pressing my hand to my lower belly, and steady myself. Today, I begin again.

This is my new life. My new hometown. The place where I can leave my shitty past behind and start over. Rock Bridge, Michigan, a town chosen completely at random. A town that includes the seediest bar I’ve ever seen in my life. I didn’t think joints like this existed outside of movies.

I was totally wrong.

I study the beer to see what’s on tap. Most are the usual offerings, but there are a couple of brands I don’t recognize. Maybe local? I should try one out to help me acclimate myself even more to my new town, my new state.

I peek down the length of the bar but don’t see a