Cole: The Wounded Sons, Leah Sharelle [the reading list .TXT] 📗

“Doing a mate’s sister is one thing, but a dead mate’s sister is a whole other kettle of fish.”

Bastian snorted, “Deke wouldn’t have worried about it, I don’t reckon, but the fact that Kodah is behaving like it’s wrong is what has me concerned. Sneaking around doesn’t do any good, just ask Squirt and your brother.”

Bastian’s unintentional double meaning wasn’t lost on me, and automatically my mind drifted to Oaklee. Back at the Bar and Grill, I had already made up my mind to explore the connection between her and me. Unfortunately, that decision came with complications—they can be overcome, but not without doing exactly what Ammo was accusing Kodah of doing with Monroe. Keeping it from Monroe’s or his family was one thing; keeping it from the team was something else entirely.

Pursuing a relationship of any kind with Oaklee was going to happen, but I have every intention of telling my captain and team. We don’t keep things from each other that could possibly affect our ability to perform our jobs.

Deke did, and look how that turned out.

“Got something on your mind, Ghost?” Bastian enquired quietly, his voice low and thoughtful. The bastard, somehow well aware that our conversation had a personal meaning to me.

“Yeah, mate, but when Kodah gets back, only want to cop an inquisition once.” With that, I pounded a hand on Ammo’s back, receiving no response or effect from the block of muscle that was Bastian Johnston, and took off for my room, wanting to get a good sleep before my day with Oaklee tomorrow. Or at least try and sleep.

The sound of fingers clicking in front of my face jolted me back to the moment where I should have stayed, instead of getting lost and thinking about shit I shouldn’t be.

“Hey, you still with me, Rambo?” Oaklee asked worriedly, her pretty lips between her teeth getting a munching on.

Stay focused, Stephens! I chastised myself, hating the look of concern on Oaklee’s sweet face. Pushing away my worry about pursuing Oaklee for a minute, I dug deep for a smile, which surprisingly wasn’t as hard as I thought. Just sitting next to Oaklee made me happy.

“Have you even seen those movies?” I asked her. “You know Sly and I look nothin’ alike, right?”

“Of course I have seen them. It’s got nothing to do with his looks compared to yours; for me, it’s all about the grunting and growling that is similar. I swear I never knew grunts, growls and chin lifts could be classed as communicating until I came to work for your mum,” Oaklee laughed, and I easily joined in with her.

“I have heard that a time or two from some of the other women coming into the Club, Peyton and Addy took a while to get used to it. Mum said the Flock sometimes reminisced about their early days with our fathers, trying to figure out what each chin lift meant,” I chuckled, understanding how it would be confusing for an outsider; to me, it was just life as a part of the Wounded Souls.

“Speaking about Mum, how are you liking your job? Mum said you are in charge of the bookstore now.” Easing back more comfortably into the couch, we’d moved from outside to Oaklee’s little bungalow not long ago once the crew left.

“Oh my god, I am loving it!” Oaklee gushed full of excitement. “Books are so much easier to get along with than humans. Thayer likes to tease me that I need to remember romance novels are fiction, not real.”

“Nothing wrong with escapin’ from life from time to time, at least that’s what Mum says.”

“Your mum is an inspiration to so many people; it must have been an experience and a half growing up with her.”

Laughing, I nodded. “You could say that. We kids learnt from a very early age the skills Mum has used since she went blind at seventeen. Having a mother who is blind had its challenges, but as we got older, it became easier to adjust, especially with Dad and the whole Club behind us helping. It didn’t take long before it was second nature to count steps, and one reason I was so good at reconnaissance and attention to detail.”

“It’s the small things I have learned from being with Memphis that have been really beneficial in life, like putting my chair under the table properly, taking note of where I put things, and generally being aware. I had never come across a vision-impaired person until her.”

“Blind, baby, Mum calls it simple old being blind. She isn’t concerned with using the more acceptable terms for her condition; to Mum, she lost her sight, and that’s that. Being politically correct at the compound is a stretch at times,” I admitted ruefully. Not that the Club members were rude or inconsiderate, and the men had nothing but respect for women; instantly, I wanted Oaklee to know that.

“I don’t mean that in a derogatory way, the men respect women and the kids, actually every single one of them would put their lives on the line to protect their family and loved ones, I just meant—”

“Cole, I get it, really,” Oaklee hushed me, her hand landing on my thigh and squeezed me through my jeans, “I have been there a year now, and trust me, I feel nothing but respect when I am there.”

I heard her words, even understood them, but my mind was reeling at a memory caused by her hand on me. A vision of Oaklee sitting on my dick backwards suddenly raced through my head, her long hair like a waterfall down her slender back, resting on my thighs, her hands behind her holding her up as she gripped my thighs as hard as she was riding me.

“Fuck.” The low and pained growl rumbled from my lips.

“What?” Oaklee asked, looking down at her hand, confused, then back up at me. “You don’t want me to touch you?” She