I wasn’t kidding about Creed not making an appearance. He always stayed in the backroom of wherever the signing was being held, patiently waiting for his wife to do her thing, no doubt staring at his watch until the programmed time was up, then he would whistle out to me, my five-minute warning to wrap things up. One thing I learned about Creed Stephens in the two years I had been working for Memphis, the man was obsessed with his wife, in particular her safety.
Rushing to the small lunchroom, thankful to be out of the spotlight, I planted a smile on my face. The smile I learned many years ago so my grandparents would stop worrying about me. Stop watching every move I made … just in case their poor granddaughter lost the plot again.
“Big crowd out there, boss,” I enthused, then winced when I heard just how forced my excitement sounded. I had to admit these signings weren’t my most favoured duties as a personal assistant. Memphis hired me to be her eyes, my duties included organising events when she had a new book coming out, but I also worked as a personal carer for Memphis. When Creed couldn’t be with her, then I was. When she was at her bookshop, then I was too. I got time off, more than some people might expect, thanks to Creed’s need to be with his wife as much as possible.
Memphis confided in me that since her husband gave up his officer’s patch, their life was one big holiday. Taking trips, cruises, spending all day together, but just recently, Creed took on another project down in Geelong. It was super hush-hush, but Memphis seemed to think it was precisely what her husband needed. However, it also meant he would be spending a little time away from her. That was where my excitement came into play. For a while there, I had worried that my job might be lost due to Creed seeing to most of Memphis’s needs leaving me with not much to do. Then, six months ago, Memphis handed me the keys to her book shop and gave me an added title on my resume.
Book store manager.
Now, I was busier than ever, and I fucking loved it. Especially now, since a week ago when my world turned upside down and shit went completely sideways. Work was always the best way to keep my mind busy, to stop the banter inside my head.
How could you be so stupid, Oaklee? The man was drunk as a skunk and you jumped his bones like a dog in heat.
I could feel the heat from his touch on my skin still five days later. Five days of nothing from Cole, not at the compound, nor at the book store to pick up his mother. As the saying goes, no appearance your worship.
For five days.
Since I’d ridden him reverse cowgirl, and come all over his massive cock, then the next morning stole back to my own room at the compound to have a quick shower only to face Cole in the kitchen and see no recognition in his dark gaze. He didn’t remember me, not having sex all night long, nor holding me in his arms while he slept.
None of it.
Thank god I was on the pill because safe sex didn’t even get a look in before Cole pulled me down on his lap and—
“Umm, Oaklee, are you okay?” Creed’s deep voice startled me out of my Pornhub-worthy dream.
“Huh?” I croaked, feeling the heat on my face, I looked up to see a deep, dark scowl on Creed’s face. His dark onyx eyes seeing more than I was comfortable with.
Oh lord, the same eyes as his sexy, hot, broody, annoying, sensual deep-talking son. Who also had no memory of our night together.
Heat blossomed in other places than my face, and the urge to rub my thighs together became an internal battle just as a low growl from Creed joined his scowl and narrowed glare.
Busted!
Scrambling to remember what Creed asked me before I got lost in my sexual haze, I rushed around the lunch table to where Memphis was sitting calmly, eating a caramel slice while waiting for her two hours of signing to begin.
“I am okie dokie, not a problem with me whatsoever,” I rambled, keeping my back to Creed so the human lie detector could not call me on my bullshit. “Boss, it is time to shine and give those ladies out there some Willow Rose time.” Rambling was turning into manic delirium, and if that piece of caramel slice wasn’t in Memphis’s fingers, I might just gobble it up myself. My stomach and mind battled which one hated the sight of the gooey treat more and which one wanted it more.
I wasn’t that girl any longer though, that thirteen-year-old that went to war with food every second of every day—years of counselling, some stints in eating disorder clinics and the support of my grandparents helped me overcome the battle that nearly killed me. Now, I was finally free from the death grip anorexia had on me, gainfully employed in a job I loved more than I thought possible, and had a circle of good friends.
The only black cloud hovering over me was in the form of my two-year crush.
Cole Stephens.
Before my idiotic move five days ago, that was all Cole had been for me.
A crush.
Now, that was multiplied by a thousand and all because I was in the wrong place at the right time. Who would have thought walking innocently down a hallway would put me in Cole’s bed? And a world of hurt and humiliation.
Damn, I could still feel the burn in my thighs and calves and still had the bruises on my hips, if not a little faint now, from Cole’s long, strong fingers holding me down on him. My back still tingled from his wet kisses he pressed there, his voice so deep when he called me his Temptress. We went at it all night, he licked and sucked every part of my body, left it covered in whisker burn and love bites. I left a few of them on him myself, and his poor back had to be covered in crescent, moon-shaped marks from my nails. God knows I clawed wantonly at his back, begging him to go deeper, not to stop fucking me.
Ahhhhh, Oaklee, what the hell had you been thinking? I chastised myself silently. When Cole came stumbling down that hall, I should have sidestepped him, gone another way, or ignored him. But did I? Nope, instead I asked if he was okay. Then when he replied with fuck no, I should have gone in search of the guys in his team, rather than asking him if there was something I could do to help.
My help came in not quite the form I anticipated, rather it left me with a mixed bag of emotions. Emotions I was yet to get a handle on obviously.
Of course, I didn’t expect him to answer the way he did. In my defence, when the object of your dreams says he needs to forget, needs just a moment in time where the demons piss off, the offer I made him I truly didn’t think for a second was one he would take.
Did I really say what I said to him? Did the words—how about me, Cole? Why not get lost in me for a while?—really come out of my mouth?
Yep! They did. Cole looked down at me, his black eyes disturbed, and looking back now, I don’t think he was even seeing me. Not Oaklee, his mum’s assistant, there was something disturbing and troubling in the depths of those onyx orbs, something I knew nothing about. Then he did something that changed me forever. Cole Stephens pushed his huge muscular body into mine, his intense and guarded face so close to mine, and I memorised every laugh line, every nick every inch of stubble covering his strong jaw.
“Make me forget, Temptress. Make me feel something other than loss and destruction.”
The way he’d spoken, the sad and almost desperate quality to his voice, called to me like a beacon. The fixer inside me wanted to do exactly that, show him more than what he was hiding behind those black eyes.
The nickname he gave me made no sense at the time, just like when I called him Rambo. I had no clue where that came from; I mean, I have seen the movies, enjoyed them, and found Sly quite a hunk, but using the name in bed? Weird and so not me.
Thinking back, I did kind of temp Cole that night. His pain from losing his mate was evident when he and the others returned to the compound. Memphis told me that Deke had been killed in action, but had not gone into further detail. The Club kept business close to their chests, not that I expected to be told any more than that.
I watched him like I always did, from the shadows and far away unnoticed by him, drinking at the bar getting drunk. He sat alone most of the time, only joining in when one
of his mates forced him to, not speaking or adding his best memories of Deke. I don’t know how long I stood in my hiding spot staring at Cole, reading his facial ticks, trying to figure out what they meant—memorising his body language, studying to see if he had any tells. Anything to get more insight into the man I was completely obsessed with.
My thoughts of wondering if he was ever going to talk to me got blown straight out of the water when he lifted me and pushed me against the wall and devoured my lips. If I was being honest, our only words at the time were ones laced with dirty desires. He never mentioned me by name, only the endearment he gave me. A feeling of foreboding trickled down my spine, thinking about that. Cole knew it had been me in his arms all night, right? We made love all night, reaching for each other after only minutes of rest in-between bouts.
Oh god, the man’s mouth brought me to orgasm so many times, and I let him. I let him, in the darkness of his room, take me to sexual heights I never dreamed existed. Granted at nearly twenty-three, I had not had a tonne of experience with men, mostly due to my own issues, but I wasn’t a virgin. Orgasm was in my vocabulary, and I enjoyed having them, and I most definitely enjoyed Cole giving them to me.
A deep rumbling growl from Creed brought me back to where my mind should be. Looking over at him, I saw in his black eyes that he knew. How I had no idea, but he did, I would bet my life on that.
“Creed, why are you growling?” Memphis huffed, pulling herself to her feet with the grace Memphis always exuded. “I swear my husband growls more than he speaks,” she complained to me, but her voice was soft as it always was when she talked about her man.
“Something to do with you about to go out into a room full of women dying to get their hands on a personally signed copy of your new book,” I hastily explained, still looking at Creed with a pleading expression. Whether he knew or not, I didn’t want to be the topic of conversation. I’d had that for years with group therapy, one on one sessions, interventions; you name it—I experienced it. I did not like to be seen, hence why I crept around the compound like a crazed stalker, thankful for the plants and abundance of hallways to steal away. Two months ago, Memphis asked me to take one of the rooms at the compound. With Creed leaving to do whatever in Queenscliff, it made sense to have me closer to her. Cole and Dane were gone, Chase too, and Zander was so busy with the Club and his little family, Memphis needed me with her. Willow, her daughter, was at uni and enjoying the social life that came with it. I was more than happy to move out of my grandparent’s home and stay at the compound while Memphis needed me.
Leading Memphis to Creed, I stood back and looked down at my shoes while they both said a temporary goodbye to each other. Not able to make out Creed’s deep rumbled words to his wife, but going by her giggles and moans, I got the impression he wasn’t talking to her about his son or me.
That familiar cold wave of doubt threatened to take over, and I quickly tucked my hand in my hoodie jacket pocket and searched for the thin piece of plastic I carried with me everywhere. The edges were starting to smoothen from hard to more rounded from years of holding it between my fingers and rubbing it. Sometimes I would do it only once a day, or sometimes when a memory triggered me, I never let it go.
To me, the cheap, generic hospital wrist band was what a sober coin was to an alcoholic. It was my prize, my last admission to the last eating clinic. From the age of thirteen to twenty, I had been in and out of clinics and institutions, but this band heralded my final visit. For close to three years, my battle with eating disorders has been somewhat behind me. My weight’s at an acceptable level; yes, I was still slight, but weighing forty-six kilograms was a damn sight better than my lowest at thirty-six kilos. Back then, I had been nothing but a bag of bones, living on water, lettuce, laxatives, and thyroid medication I swiped from my Nan.
And exercise. Lots and lots of exercise.
“Okay, Miss Oaklee, let’s jump in the deep end of the romance fans,” Memphis announced, halting the dangerous turn my mind was about to take. Thinking back on those dark nights when I would climb out my bedroom window to run after my grandparents retired to their rooms for the night did not belong here today.
“Let’s go then,” I shouted out overly brightly, but still I refused to look at Creed because I knew if I did, he would see right through me to my truth.
As soon as this day was over, I decided I needed a night out with my bestie, Thayer. If anyone can help me make sense of this latest mess I had landed myself in, it was her. Thayer was bold and brash and the complete opposite of me; she took no shit and dealt out plenty.
Yep, a night at the Bar and Grill with Thayer will make everything better.
CHAPTER FIVE
COLE
“You know Cole, when you said we should go for a ride, I thought we would be stopping to look at things along the way,” my sister, Willow, grumbled as she hobbled off my bike on shaky legs. Hiding my grin, I reached out and grabbed her arm to steady her while she got her land legs back again.
“You said you didn’t have time for a trip to the Gold Coast, so the Great Ocean Road was the next big thing,” I answered her, knowing that Willow was going to yell at me.
“Cole! I have ridden that road a billion times with one member of the Club or another, it was hardly the mini holiday I was expecting.” Her screech came back as expected.
“Hence why we didn’t stop to sightsee, only for fuel.”
Willow dropped her head, her long, blonde hair so much like our mum’s covering her face from me.
“Please, God, give me the strength not to strangle the men in my family, starting with this one,” her growled prayer, making me smirk.
“What’s wrong, Low? Is the old man giving you a hard time?” I asked, but already knew the answer. Dad shadowed Willow much the same as he did our mum; having four sons and only one daughter meant Creed Stephens got a little protective and a whole lot alpha when it came to his baby girl.
“Cole, this is not funny!” Willow whined, adding a stomp of her foot. “Daddy is there every time I look over my shoulder! I can’t do anything or talk to anyone without Dad growling somewhere in the background.”
Sitting on my bike while Willow paced back and forth in the parking lot, her booted feet kicking gravel every few steps.
“I can’t handle it, Cole. When Chase was home, it was at least bearable, but he is in Alaska fishing or whatever, so Dad has just me to focus on now. I want to have a boyfriend, Cole, someone who isn’t afraid of my biker dad and his Club. I want to have sex!” she screamed out in frustration. “At this rate, I am going to be a virgin for the rest of my life!”
Ripping my hands from the handlebars, I promptly stuck my fingers in my ears and hummed loudly.
I did not just hear that; I did not hear those words come from my pure and innocent sister.
This was not a conversation I thought I would be having after a long nine-hour ride. A beer, maybe some of the Bar and Grill’s famous pulled pork and gravy roll, then home to bed for a night of dreaming of Oaklee and those sexy fucking moans she made when I was deep inside her pussy.
Fuck! The whole ride, I managed to push my night with Oaklee out of my mind, one of the reasons I coaxed Willow to go with me—so I could have something that needed my mind on the ball rather than alone and getting lost in my head. Plus, my dick needed a break from thickening painfully in my pants. He spent months and months not giving a shit about women, then all of a sudden, the cocksucker demands I get back into the hottest, smoothest and slickest pussy he has ever known.
Why the fuck did it have to be her? Sweet, gorgeous Oaklee. Much younger than me, Oaklee. Sexy, sensual, and adventurous in bed, Oaklee.
“Cole, are you listening to me?” Willow growled, punching me in the arm, putting an end to my chanting Oaklee’s name in my mind. Now, if only I could get my dick to listen too.
Shifting discreetly on the bike seat, I gave my attention to my sister.
“Low, I don’t see how you can avoid Dad
or our uncles getting in your life, babe. They love you, Low, all their overprotective bullshit comes from a good place, you know that, right?”
“Yeah, I do, Cole, I love them all just as fiercely,” Willow agreed, “but Shiloh didn’t get it as hard as me when she was my age from the stories I have been told. She and Zander were carrying on then.”
“Yeah, behind everyone’s back,” I reminded her, “they didn’t tell Deck and Charlotte or Booth, and look how that turned out for them. Zan felt less than important to Shy, and he drove himself insane every time she took off her engagement ring to hide it from the Club.”
Willow’s face fell and we both remembered how hard those days were for our oldest brother to deal with back then. His love for his woman, her love for him, coupled with the loyalty to the Club, made for some interesting times. All us kids knew about Zander and the princess of the Souls, helping them sneak off to be together, drawing the adult’s attention so they could be a couple even for a short amount of time. Those days were definitely hectic, and there were days when I wanted to nut punch Zander for involving us, but mostly we didn’t mind because it was for family. And there was nothing more important in the Souls world than family.
A crazy idea started to form in my brain as I listened to Willow plot out a way to get away from the watchful eyes of the original five. The longer I thought about it, the more it made sense. It was a doable plan, no mess, no fuss, no complications.
Just sex.
With Oaklee, only Oaklee.
Swinging my leg over the bike, I hung my helmet and Willow’s on the handlebars.
“You’re not listening to me again, Cole,” Willow harrumphed, sounding more like the teen girl she was when I left for the army than the woman she was turning into way too fast.
“I am, and I don’t think you have a hope in hell of getting Dad to allow you to leave and live down at Queenscliff at the new Club,” I told her, laughing when her mouth opened in shock.
Cole: The Wounded Sons Page 5
