Free The Sweet Under His Skin by Portia Gray

with the guys made him realize what a tragedy the loss of innocence could be. One day he's listening to a kid give his take on motorcycle philosophy, and the next day he's doubling up on a whore with Flynn during a quick pit-stop at a roadhouse on the side of some nondescript highway. It wasn't that he was getting old on this shit at thirty-three-years-old. It was that he was getting old enough to see how stupid it could all be.
    He scrubbed his hands across his face then got to his feet. He yanked the condom off, tossed it, washed his hands in the bathroom, then dressed again. No more pussy tonight, but maybe enough tequila to knock him right the fuck out.
    It wasn't hard to be a hero to a nine-year-old living in that neighborhood. But that didn't mean Quentin wasn't scared shitless at what that kid had said while clutching his hand in that kitchen.
    I don't have any friends from school. Quentin's my only friend.
    Sure. Quentin, you're welcome to join us.
    At her words he'd been a fucking teenager again. It was all he could do to fight down a grin and leave. The invite for supper that very night? Nearly killed him to say no.
    Out in the clubhouse he scanned the room, headed for the bar, and demanded tequila. The prospect put the bottle and a shot glass on the beaten and shined up wood. Quentin ignored the glass, tossed the cap at the prospect and carried the bottle with him over to the sofa where Mandy held court, legs and arms crossed, watching the evening's proceedings and debauchery.
    Quentin plopped next to her, sprawling out to lean into her shoulder, legs out straight in front of him, ankles crossed over each other. He took a deep pull on the tequila, relishing that harsh burn. That knocked the sweet right out of him.
    "I give, Quentin," Mandy said wryly.
    "What?"
    "What's up with you?"
    He made a face. "What’re you talking about?'
    She smiled slowly but didn't push. "Still got your wallet, babe?"
    He had to laugh, a short bark that he honestly meant. "Very funny."
    "Flynn tells me you punched a guy out last week."
    He made another face as the second swig of tequila went down. "That's all he has time for or what? Gossiping with the women?" Flynn had seen his hands the next day, knew he'd clocked someone good and it wasn't club business. Fucking mouth on that guy .
    "What was that for?"
    He shook his head. "Not important, Mandy."
    "We didn't tell Bishop," Mandy assured him. "So you're gonna tell me what that was about and I'll have your back, honey."
    Quentin sighed, squeezing his eyes shut and pinching the bridge of his nose. "It really didn't matter."
    "Tell me or I tell Bishop about your non-commissioned fisticuffs."
    Mandy was only nice for so long before resorting to blackmail. "My neighbor cleaned the guy's house. He got handsy. She said no, he hit her. At least twice. Her cheek was bruised, her lip was split."
    Mandy put her arm behind him on the sofa, angling towards him and running her hand through his hair. "Is this neighbor the one Flynn said is‘ so fucking hot, she can make a man comejust from one look ’?"
    "For fuck's sake."
    "Easy, Quentin. I'm just looking out for you. I watch out for my boys, you know that."
    "I know," he admitted, leaning into her more, letting his eyes close.
    "She's a civvie, right?"
    "Yeah. A lot."
    Mandy chuckled, the movement of shaking her head rocking him a bit. "You never do anything the easy way, do you?"
    Quentin grinned up at her over his shoulder. "I'm not doing anything, Mandy. Don't worry."
    "You're beating up strangers for her," Mandy pointed out.
    "She's got a nephew she takes care of. He's decided I'm…cool, I don't know. He wants to hang out with me. Help me with my bike." He shrugged. "That's it."
    "How old's this little prospect?"
    "Eight. Smart kid, Mandy. He's already five times smarter than me. But I'm able to teach him things. And that kinda…makes me proud. That I know something this eight-year-old doesn't. Bikes."
    She kept playing with his hair and he