He couldn’t believe he was saying that at first. She was a nurse, the type who ran with cops and paramedics, someone who’d never really understand him, even as nice as she was. Still, she was the first person he’d met who seemed to care about him, someone that he found so refreshing as an alternative to all the old lady wannabes at the clubhouse. Maybe he could keep her separate from his life as a Blacktop Sinner.
That might be a lie because being a Sinner was his full identity, but he wasn’t sure.
All he knew was that he couldn’t leave her here without at least giving it a shot.
“I can’t.”
“I’m discharged, not your patient anymore, so don’t even try to use that as an excuse.”
She groused and threw her hands up in the air. “It’s not…I don’t want to love someone who risks their life so much.”
“Life’s all about risk, and you either take them or sit on the sidelines. I’m not into sidelines.” Reaching down, he cupped her cheek. “I want you to take a chance on me. You just think I’m tough or some wild man, but I’m more than that, I promise that, Tess. Just hand me your phone,”
Biting her lower lip, she handed him her cell. “You can add your number. I won’t guarantee I’ll pick up. When I have some sleep, better judgment is going to win out.”
He finished entering in his own cell and grinned. “I’ll be calling. Glad I left that back at my home.” A lie. All cells were kept at the clubhouse. They didn’t want a risk of losing them; too many numbers were incriminating. The only one of them who’d taken a disposable to runs like that was Spike. Always in secret, always in stealth. “But I’ll call you; you can bet on that,” Derek finished by leaning down and kissing her cheek.
It was beyond gratifying to see her go fire hydrant red as he pulled back. Oh, she was going to play reserved, maybe even believe she was in her heart of hearts, but he knew better. Tess was a woman with spirit, who clearly was spoiling for more adventure than nursing had offered her. He wasn’t about to throw her in to life with the Blacktop Sinners, but she could be his oasis, and he could be her source of fun for a little while.
As he strolled out and sat in his cab, even he was grinning like some goofy loon. It wasn’t until he checked his bags outside the impound lot that he realized he’d left his damn knife behind and that Spike was going to kill him.
Chapter Seven
“Make love to me.”
The words were out of her mouth, just naked and raw before her and before Derek. She’d never been that direct before. Tess had had lovers, and she’d had sex, of course. Still, she’d never felt the urge to take control like this before, to demand of her lover. There was something about Derek that burned into her veins, that made it feel like a river of lava escaped from Vesuvius itself was rocketing through her blood stream.
Derek didn’t need to wait. Those mischievous yet encouraging brown eyes, as deep and rich as melted chocolate, were boring into hers. He was standing before her, the moonlight filtering through the window, and her mouth was watering at the sight, at the way the light played across the planes of his abdomen, highlighting every ridge and valley, even the dip of his perfectly sculpted hip bones. His erection bobbed freely in the light, and she licked her lips at the sight of his cock, erect and ready for her. It was as long as she’d have guessed from his height and as thick as any she’d ever seen.
Wetness flooded from her core, and she leaned up against her headboard. “I need you so much, Derek.”
“Blondie, you only had to ask,” he called, his voice a low rumble that made her clit throb with need and anticipation.
Striding across the expanse of her bedroom, he slid into bed and angled himself over her. His cock bobbed against her hips, and she shivered under his ministrations. He began to kiss her neck, his tongue lapping at the small dip in her collarbone. Goosebumps erupted over her skin, and she shivered beneath him. He continued to kiss her, adding small love bites to her clavicle, to the thin skin there. Then he felt his dick sliding over and tickling her slit.
She gasped and dug her nails into her back.
“God, yes!”
Then her damn alarm went off.
“Are you kidding?” She asked, throwing herself out of the bed and heading straight for the shower. There was no way she was going to be able to deal with being this frustrated all day. That wasn’t an option.
Rushing into the shower, she pulled the door shut and let the heat of the water pour over her. Grabbing her watermelon-scented bath scrub, she reached between her legs with her left hand and grazed her other hand over her right nipple. Closing her eyes, she imagined those large, broad hands of Derek’s cupping her breast. In her mind’s eye, she knew that he’d be able to hold her tit in one hand, to fully cup it. Her smaller hand wasn’t good enough, but she tried, twisting the rounded bud of her nipple in her grasp.
Her other hand parted her wet and eager folds. For a bit, she traced her fingers over the lips of her labia, feeling the sensation spike and ebb through her nerves. It was like pulses of electricity, like a live wire running through her. Venturing higher, she slid in her middle finger and then pressed her thumb against her clit. Keeping her eyes slammed shut, she started to rub against her bundle of nerves, to work that clit with all the skill her hand had to offer. As she did it, she imagined it was Derek’s hands plumbing her, that it was his thick fingers deep inside of her. The feeling crescendoed through her, spiraling up from her pussy and leaving her knees buckling beneath her.
She came then, screaming his name so loud she was scared her neighbor in the duplex would notice.
When she was done, Tess still enjoyed an extra-long shower, using the second, portable head to rinse herself well. Hopping out of the shower, she lowered her head and pressed it against the cool tile.
God, what was happening to her?
She’d never ever let herself fantasize about a patient, and even with his brazen stunt, Derek was far from the first one she’d seen naked.
He was, however, by far the most attractive, the most toe-curlingly gorgeous.
***
“So,” Lizzy said, sitting across from her at the table at the Java Hut. “You need to spill, and you clearly need to spill now.”
She frowned. “There’s nothing to talk about.”
“Oh please, you worked thirty hours and took someone else’s shift just so you could keep a look out on Mr. Tall, Dark, and Yes Please.”
She sighed and glared back at her friend. Lizzy meant well, but she could come on so strong. Tess wasn’t sure she could channel that kind of confidence or embrace the strength her friend had, at least not where men were concerned. Her last boyfriend had been five years ago, and he’d tried to stay with her, to weather the tragedy, but after a year of her melancholy and morning, he’d left her too.
Sometimes it felt too scary, that if you loved someone, family or lover, that it was too easy for them to be snatched away from you. It was also hard to be the happy go lucky person she’d been before, to remember what it was like to be that carefree and relaxed.
“We shouldn’t date patients.”
“Oh don’t pretend that we don’t bend those rules, especially after they’ve been discharged. That’s how I met Carmelo, that hot construction worker!”
“I know, but I just…”
“You don’t have to do more than have a date. I know you’ve had a one night stand or two since David, back when---”
“Believe me, I know when,” she said, thinking back to Jason’s loss. Unbidden, she placed her hand on the St. Christopher’s chain at her throat. Sometimes, as much as she loved and missed her brother, the chain felt like a damn albatross around her neck. “It’s just, what would we even have in common? He’s clearly the biker type, lives for danger, and I’m miss study-a-holic.”
“You’re a tough, smart nurse, and guys have fetishes for the Nurse Ratched type, believe me.”
“Ugh, I so don’t need to know more about Ricardo’s preferences.”
“Oh, not him. He’s a bit too beta male for that, but a big guy like Derek, all surly biker dude? He totally needs a tough by-the-book woman to bring him to heel. Besides, he’s hot, you’re fairly smoking.”
“Hey!”
“You know you’re a catch, but don’t think I’m not the better one,” she said, winking at her.
“I know, but I don’t even…” She floundered, setting her phone on the table. “Just because he gave me his number doesn’t mean that anything is ever going to come of it.”
“He what? Is that in your phone?”
“Um, maybe,” she said reaching for it but cursing when Lizzy outreached her.
“I’ve got this handled, chica,” she chirped, pressing a button and already Tess could hear the speed dial ringing.
“God, no, you can’t!” she said, lunging for her friend.
The Latina jumped up and rushed to the other side of the coffee shop. Tess hurried after her, but it didn’t matter, by the time she was over there, Lizzy was shoving the phone back to her.
“He didn’t answer, but I left a voice mail with your number and told him he’d be loco not to ask you out and I quote, ‘rock your world.’”
“Man, why would you do that to me?” She asked, shoving her phone in her pocket again.
“Because I worry about you. You need to have fun STAT, Tess, and I know you keep thinking about Jason and how you lost him. I know this is such a hard time of year for you because of your brother and the accident, but he’d never want you to become a nun for him. You have to know that.”
“I do,” she said, starting back to their table and slumping down at her seat. “Believe me I do, but that doesn’t matter. I can’t change how sacred I get. Besides, now he just has a weird message on his voicemail. He’ll never call.”
Lizzy sat down and sipped her iced coffee. A bit of the whipped cream covered her upper lip and she licked it back off. Casual as always. “I bet he will, and if I’m betting correctly, then you need to do yourself a favor and say yes because, chica, some chances only come so often.”
She didn’t have a pithy reply to that one.
Chapter Eight
“You’re all skin and bones,” her mother said, shaking her head but enveloping her in a hug.
Tess giggled and leaned into her mother’s embrace. “I’m plenty curvy. Last I checked I was bordering on an eight. I might have a long torso and legs relatively speaking, but I’m still 5’3, being willowy is definitely something I have to work out.”
Her mom chuckled herself and pinched an ample hip. “I should probably be more into that. The most workout I get around here is gardening and walking the dog. I think turning into foodies in retirement might have put a bit of meat on our bones.”
“But you look good!” She objected, coming into the house and smiling at the table before her. Her mom had gone all out. There were candelabras set, a huge ham, and every dish she could think of from green bean casserole to tons of mashed potatoes. On the side board was a caramel fudge cake and at least three types of pie.
“You don’t have to do all of this.” Tess shook her head and walked around the expanse of the dining room. “Seriously, you went all out. That’s…it’s too much. It’s just a family dinner.”
“You and Sarah rarely get over here to Asheville, and your father and I wanted to do what we could for the family. He even repainted all the woodwork trim. You know him; he’s always finding a new project around the house.”
“He definitely is.”
“I’m what?” Her dad called, coming in from the backyard. “I better hear the words ‘debonair’ and ‘handsome’ to go with everything else.”
She grinned back at her father. He hunched over a bit now, after he’d had a knee replacement surgery and his hair was white, even that of his Santa-like beard. He wasn’t quite the strapping man she remembered back when she was eight, but he still had a warm smile. At a time like this, it was comforting to be home, to be in a place that smelled of cinnamon and charcoal that allowed her to close her eyes and be innocent again.
“So, Dad, looking good. Is Sarah here yet?”
“She’s finishing up upstairs.”
Tess frowned and quirked her head at her parents. Sarah’s bedroom had been in the basement since her older sister had declared herself grown. The second floor were the quarters for her and Jason and then the top was her parents. If Sarah was upstairs, then that meant she was in Jason’s room. She’d always done her mourning up there, sitting at his desk or on his bed, saying a few quiet words.
Offering her parents a tight smile, she headed up the stairs. It was expected after all, even if after five years it still killed her to walk into an abandoned room like this. Somehow, it was easier to think of Jason as alive and vibrant---as untrue as it was---when one didn’t enter into the mausoleum commemorating him. Everything was how her brother had left it back when he’d left home for college: the trophies from Varsity baseball, the tattered pictures of old girlfriends folded one too many times, and the posters of his favorite film, Jurassic Park. To be fair, all three films’ posters were there, and he’d even started studying paleontology in school because of it. Hell he’d only been done with his first year when he’d gotten into the motorcycle crash, hadn’t even gotten a chance to have a taste of his dream. On his desk was still a cheesy “dig out your own” dinosaur fossil kit that she’d bought for him for his birthday from The Discovery Channel store. She’d been abusing the label of “eight and up” for him, but his eyes had lit up when he opened it.
It was only half-finished on the desk.
He’d been working on it that summer he’d suffered his accident.
Sighing, Tess slid into the door’s threshold but didn’t dare cross the border into the room. It was something she’d never been able to bring herself to do. It was too final. If she sat on a bed, he’d never make again (not that he’d done that often), then it was too real. Even if she’d been there in the emergency room the night he’d died, there was some aspect of his death that wasn’t yet real to her, something that Tess wouldn’t allow herself to process. If only she’d gotten through to him earlier. She’d seen two dozen motorcycle accidents as a nurse before he’d even bought his death trap. She could have saved him, if only she’d been more convincing.
“Hey, so Mom and Dad are almost done preparing dinner,” she said, offering a pained smile to Sarah.
Her sister was taller than she. Actually, Jason had been the same way. Everyone always joked that, though lithe, she was the surprise recessive gene bearer of the family, that hidden shorty in a family of giant. Sarah wasn’t just tall but also had fiery red hair from their mother. It was perhaps too easy to fall into that old saw about redheads and tempers, but it was something that still applied to her sister. Maybe it was why in the five years since Jason’s death, they’d drifted. Sarah kept trying to confront Tess’s lack of mourning, as if yelling at her to move on would actually be the same as her actually getting over it.
That was a stupid, thoughtless expression.
How could anyone get over decades of family? Hell, did someone with a missing limb really “get over” missing a hand or a foot? Doubtful. Jason had been no less important to her daily life than that. Anyway, as dynamic opposites, she and Sarah tended to disagree on everything. It took everything they had to keep the smiles and small talk between them for the anniversary, and they put their parents’ peace of mind over their own differing world views.
Still, it didn’t make finding the right words any easier, even when their hackles were down.
Sarah smiled back and pushed a red curl back from her forehead. “That’s good. Do you want to sit for a second? I find…it’s probably stupid to you, but it feels like communing almost, like I can feel him.”
Tess nodded but didn’t say anything. Her mother felt that way about going to the cemetery, and her father said he sometimes felt that peace---that elusive mistress that Tess couldn’t find---when he went fishing
at their favorite mountain stream; it had been the big thing for “the boys” to do together when the girls were shopping.
She just didn’t understand how acceptance was supposed to fix anything.
“I’m good. I just was supposed to get you to be ready for the cook out.”
Sarah’s eyes narrowed, but she said nothing directly about Jason again. “Great, so do you think Dad drowned everything in garlic again?”
“When doesn’t he?” Tess countered, glad for her sister linking her arm through her own and pressing nothing further for today.
We’ll battle it out another time; we always do…
**
Tess was halfway through a pint of Ben and Jerry’s New York Super Fudge Chunk and about two-thirds through watching Thelma and Louise, when her cell rang. Rolling her eyes, grateful at least all the parts with Brad Pitt’s abs were over, she picked up the cell.
Corrupted: A Motorcycle Club Romance (Blacktop Sinners MC) Page 4
