Cocky Secrets (Cocker Brothers #29)

86. Sofia Sol

EIGHTY-SIX

Sofia Sol

B arely a sliver of moonlight traces our naked bodies, entwined in a bed of overgrown grass that nobody here has time to mow. A knotted oak tree hides us all the way in the farthest reach of our enormous backyard behind the dilapidated plantation we Ciphers call home.

Our home. All of us.

Including the sweaty young hunk on top of me. We’re not supposed to be locked like this.

And for good reason.

So they say.

Sex is a line we’re forbidden to cross with each other. It’s not like he and I are genetically related.

We aren’t.

Yuck. That would be wrong.

But we might as well be.

From my earliest memories he’s been in my life.

They all have been, those voices we can hear in the distance while Melodi cooks jambalaya for The Ciphers as they drink from ice-cold beer cans, celebrating…and not noticing our absence. The laughter is riotous.

After we make it home safely from a dangerous job like today’s, it’s party time. But their guffaws and back-slapping and bets would halt if they knew what Atlas and I were doing.

My father would lose his shit.

My mother might be worse. Might. Probably.

I swear she was put on this planet to ride my ass.

And his dad — my dad’s best friend — has a biker name after the most fearless creature in the Guinness Book of World Records.

With those three at odds, if they found out we fucked, bloody fists would be inevitable.

We’ve obeyed their strict rule about no sex, for years. Out of respect to the structure. We all live in the same house and they raised us together. Them, the couples. The heroes defending the innocent. And the parents. The elders rule the Ciphers, as they should…I guess. Hard for me to submit to any kind of authority, and I’m not alone in that. But they have earned our respect for life. If people knew what we did to help those who truly need it, we’d have the respect of the most of the planet.

However we all have that authority-resisting character flaw—it’s why we’re so happy here. We’re a bunch of law-breaking bastards and bitches.

Motorcycle clubs are families of a wilder sort that no “normie” can understand. We’d die for each other. Some of us have.

We’re just not normal.

Never will be.

Never want to be.

So how fair is it that us kids — now that we’re all grown up — are made to stay platonic? We train together every day, fighting in the ring, kick boxing, working with weapons, getting sweaty. It’s hard not to find sweat droplets sliding down hard muscles and ripe curves…attractive.

Enter temptation.

Enter succumbing to desire.

I quickly peek back at the sound of my father’s laughter. “He’s not coming out here, is he?!!”

Atlas stops moving and cranes his neck. “Nah, they’re all in the kitchen still.”

“Martinez, don’t you dare come inside me!”

He gives the most amazing wince. “I’ve got this.” His lips curl, dark eyes flashing with lust and heat. “Steady,” he groans to himself, “Steady now.” His inner animal is a lot more disciplined than mine.

I banked on it.

His father taught his two sons well, how to control themselves. I’ve seen it on the missions, and now I’ve had my first taste of it in sex. I wouldn’t have chanced this if I couldn’t bank on that control.

No way would I let me and Atlas cause our first war among The Ciphers by leaving a baby in my belly.

Because I’d keep it.

And then where would we be?

Stuck.

No, thanks.

“You’re so beautiful Sofia Sol, you know that?”

“Shut up! I don’t want to hear that shit right now.” I smack his bicep, grip it. “Don’t bring up sentimental bullshit and ruin it.”

As the throbbing wanes ever-so-slightly, I shove him off of me. Atlas reacts with shock.

Yeah, well, I’m not easy to spend time with. I’ll tell you my opinion even if you don’t want it. My standards are high but unpredictable. Some things matter very much to me while other things that might to another woman, don’t. But you never know which until I make it really fucking clear.

I’ve been called a bitch, a whore, a cunt, insane, dangerous, fucking crazy, out of my damn mind, and once…a sociopath. That’s the only one I argued with because it was so far from the truth that it pissed me off. Sociopaths don’t feel anything. They don’t experience other people’s pain. They’re the serial killers of the world whether they’re actually taking lives, or just emotionally and spiritually killing people for the sick fun of it.

I’m not a sociopath in even one cell of my being. I feel more than I want to, and I fight for those who can’t fight for themselves.

We all do here.

You’re not a Cipher if you don’t give a shit.

“Sofia!” my mother, Luna Cocker, shouts from the house. “Dinner!”

Um…I’ve just eaten, thanks, Mom.