Tonight, when we had our usual middle of the night encounter, I was going to give her an extra present I hadn’t wanted to give her in front of everyone else this morning. That present wasn’t my dick, despite how much I wanted it to be, but a particular picture that had first drawn her into the world of art.
Annabelle and my mom had taken her to the mall and for something to eat. To say I was counting down the hours would be an understatement. I was as nervous as shit about giving her the present. When I did that, she’d know for certain that her crush on me was reciprocated. Eavesdropping on her conversations with Annabelle did have some benefits.
When Mom came back at around eight p.m., alone, my stomach lurched.
“Where the hell are the girls?” I asked, endless possibilities screaming through my head.
“They’re in Mulligan’s having a good time,” she said, smiling. “I told Jimmy they have my consent to drink, but I’m far too old to be staying out much later. He’ll keep an eye on them. They’ll be fine.”
“You left them alone in Mulligan’s?” I said, almost shouting. “Are you freaking kidding me?”
Mom frowned. All the happiness she’d had moments ago vanished. I felt like such a bastard. Seeing her smile these days was a rare thing.
“Is there something wrong with that? I thought Mulligan’s was safe.”
I scrubbed my hands over my face. The burning desire to punch something, to relieve some sort of pent-up frustration had me teetering on the edge of insanity. I’d told Dad we needed to keep Mom in the loop with everything that concerned The Hellhounds MC, but as usual, I was wrong, and he was right to keep it quiet. The less Mom knew the better, apparently.
Clearly fucking not.
The Hellhounds were our arch enemies. The history between both MCs went back decades, each and every encounter bloody and riddled with death. Mom and Annabelle had almost been included in the death toll years back. Mulligan’s bordered their territory. To say I was panicking would be an understatement.
“No, Mom. There’s nothing wrong with it. Sorry—I guess I just kinda freaked out at them being left alone somewhere for the first time. It’s a bit odd.”
Her freckled face relaxed into a warm smile. “It’s okay, Drake, to admit you’re worried. It’s a good thing. If it makes you feel better, go pick them up. Save them a fortune on a cab, anyway.”
I didn’t need telling twice. I grabbed the keys to my ’67 Impala and burned rubber getting out of there. By the time I got to Mulligan’s, it was nearing nine o’ clock. I didn’t even bother looking for a parking space, instead pulling straight across the back of three trucks. Everyone around here knew who owned the car and wouldn’t dare complain anyway.
My foot had barely touched the loose dirt before I heard that distinctive giggle I adored. The hum of voices caught my attention; especially when I heard at least three males. I couldn’t help the red rag that danced in front of my eyes. All I’d wanted to do from the moment I woke was give her the damn present I’d bought, and maybe, just maybe, gift her a kiss too.
Now, my mom had left her and my sister, of all people, in a crowded, seedy bar, alone, with alcohol and God knows how many undesirables. Not only would Paige be drunk, making any kind of move for me a total bust, but she’d probably be way too sleepy to wake from her nightmares and come downstairs.
I stalked toward the laughter and chatter, clenching and unclenching my fists. Whoever those fucking guys were better hope they were at least ten feet away from my two girls or blood would be spilled. Period.
Rounding the corner of the old building, I saw Paige and Annabelle sat on top of one of the outside tables with a group of five guys around them. Three of them were a little closer than I liked. They were side on to me, so had no idea I was there, watching, waiting. Despite the harrowing past of my sister, I knew she could easily handle herself if needed. Growing up with an MC family hadn’t left her naïve and defenceless, especially after her ordeals.
Paige, however, was a different story. She still had a beautiful innocence to her that beamed with sunshine. She may be studying to be a tattoo artist, but that didn’t mean she was a kickass chick. Her quiet, elegant mannerisms would never allow her to even think of hurting a fly, let alone anything else.
The girls had reached an age where their thoughtless summer clothes of hot pants and camisole tops only served them up as prey rather than young kids. Seeing Paige leaning back on her hands, swinging her long legs over the edge of the table, my guts twisted into knots. Nobody should see those gorgeous legs but me.
One of the guys was stood to Paige’s right, his beady brown eyes lit up with glee. He moved closer to her and rested his hand against her ass. Paige jumped at the unexpected touch.
I wanted to pound his fat face in already, but I was also curious how she would react to his attention. Saving my sister and a friend was one thing but saving my sister and the woman who could potentially be mine was quite another. I wasn’t prepared to go that extra step if she welcomed his attention.
She looked at him and wriggled forwards, away from his hand. He didn’t get the hint. When he touched her again, she pushed his arm away from behind her. Every muscle in me pulsed with adrenaline. Motherfuckers were about to get a shock.
The guy lifted his hands in a surrender sign, but he didn’t back off. Seconds later he made another move, this time stroking his chubby little fingers down her arm. Paige recoiled from his touch and jumped down from the table.
He grabbed her wrist and pulled her toward him, egged on by cheers from his drunk buddies. That was it for me. She wasn’t interested. Whether she wanted me or not was irrelevant; her feelings toward him had been made perfectly clear and the douchebag wasn’t computing.
I stalked toward them and shouted, “Leave her the fuck alone. Now!”
The bellow shocked even me, but it worked. When the guys registered who had yelled at them, they scampered like rats. All my pent-up rage boiled in my veins, but I had no face to bust it out on now the cowards had run off. I was vibrating with fury and I couldn’t help but let it show.
“You two, in the car. NOW.”
Annabelle rolled her eyes and tutted at me. “You have to ruin all the fun, don’t you? Fuckin’ spoilsport.”
She stomped past me, bumping my shoulder. I couldn’t help myself. I caught her forearm and yanked her back to me. “You want a fuckin’ repeat of twelve years ago, huh? Or you wantin’ Paige to have her own experience of it too?”
Hate flashed through her dark eyes. As only my delightful sister could, she spat in my face and stamped on my foot in the hope I’d release her. I kept hold of her for a few seconds longer, just to make a point. I’d touched a raw, frayed nerve, but I didn’t care. She should have seen Paige’s predicament herself.
Paige didn’t even make eye contact with me as she scurried after Annabelle. I wanted to ask her if she was okay, but I was still furious and pissed as hell that my plans for later on seemed to be going to shit.
Chapter Two
Paige
I felt awful. Not only because the world was spinning, I couldn’t see straight, and my stomach was churning, but because Drake had to come and fetch me and Annabelle from Mulligan’s bar. The guy who’d touched me had certainly not been invited to do so, and when I heard Drake’s deep voice booming across the yard, I felt relieved, but also like I’d been caught doing something I shouldn’t have been.
The ride home was silent. A couple of times I dared to steal a glance at Drake and caught him staring back at me in the rearview mirror. The dark eyes I’d come to associate with warmth and laughter were now cold and hard. Shame burst inside me. I’d honestly felt like we’d built a bond over the past few months, and with me turning eighteen today, I’d hoped and endlessly fantasised of Drake declaring his undying love for me.
However, the flat, glassy stare I’d just been given quickly erased those stupid hopes and dreams, leaving me feeling foolish, childish, and stupid. I wanted nothing more than
to dive under my covers and hide in shame.
When he pulled up at home, Annabelle and I jumped out of the car before he’d even switched the engine off. We headed indoors and straight to our bedroom. Neither of us even spoke to one another; probably because we were both feeling a little worse for wear. I couldn’t even be bothered to take off my clothes and jumped in my bed fully clothed. The whirling sensation of falling when I closed my eyes lured me into a deep sleep, hopefully deep enough to excuse me from the awkward debate of whether to head downstairs or not during the night if I woke.
I woke gasping for breath and shivering violently. I sat up in bed, and as I always did, glanced at the clock. 1:22 a.m. Like clockwork. Peeling myself from the sheets, I picked up the towel I hid under my bed and started dabbing my cold, wet skin.
Most of the time I couldn’t remember the nightmares, which really wasn’t a bad thing. With my quilt now soaked, my bed sheets dripping, and me freezing cold, I had the debate of going downstairs for a blanket.
If I’d thought about it, I would have brought one up with me, but then that would have promptly severed any potential chance of mine and Drake’s nightly meeting. I knew I was being nothing more than a silly girl with a crush on an older man where it concerned him, but I couldn’t help it; the guy was dangerously handsome.
Still not feeling quite sober, I decided against going downstairs. I picked my clothes from my body, somehow warmer without anything on. Opposite our bedroom door was the airing cupboard which housed all the clean bed sheets. I could change my sheet and flip the quilt over for tonight.
Without even thinking about being naked, because of the time of morning mainly, I opened our door and crept out onto the landing. It was literally five or six steps in a straight line, open the door, grab a sheet, and run back in.
Except with my first step came an unusual noise.
A sharp inhale of breath.
I darted back inside the bedroom and hid behind the door. Shivering, I stood there, waiting for whoever it was to pass so I could get my warm, dry sheets and go back to sleep.
“Paige, it’s me.”
Even in a whisper, the deep huskiness of his voice sent a shudder down my spine. I peered around the door, taking care to block my body with it. In the soft glow of the bathroom light, which Annabelle always insisted be left on at nights, Drake looked back at me, an almost pained expression on his face.
“Here,” he whispered.
He held out the baby blue blanket I usually found myself snuggled inside most nights. I reached for it and snatched it from him like a starved dog. The blissful relief that cloaked me the instant I wrapped it around me was even better than eating chocolate.
No longer indecently exposed, I stepped out from behind the door and onto the landing. “Thank you,” I whispered, giving him a sheepish look.
“You’re welcome.”
An awkward silence fell between us, and the longer it went on, the tauter the atmosphere became as if it were an elastic band being stretched to breaking point. I didn’t know what to say or do. Did I turn around and go back to bed? Did I go downstairs? What was he even doing up here with the blanket anyway—was he waiting for me to appear?
In the midst of all my ponderings, the devilish biker I’d come to lust after more and more each day held his hand out to me—such a simple gesture, yet laden with heavy, unspoken words. My mouth ran dry. My heart crashed against my ribs in frantic leaps of joy.
“I…want to talk to you,” he said, his dark eyes full of pleading.
A bolt of excitement laced panic rushed through my chest. What did he want to talk about? Why? Still, as I knew I would, I nodded and placed my hand in his. Feeling like E.T. covered from head to toe in the blanket, it didn’t take a genius to figure out my first step down the stairs resulted in me nearly falling all the way to the bottom.
Drake caught me and with one smooth move, scooped me up in his arms and carried me downstairs. Apart from being naked on this occasion, being this close to him wasn’t anything new to me. After all, I’d spent months cuddled up against his chest, inhaling the spicy mix of his aftershave, gas, sweat, and grease. But for some reason, being held to him like this carried with it a deeper meaning, an apprehension of what it could potentially signify.
My stomach churned with nerves. I allowed my silly fantasies to return, flooding me with familiar hopes and dreams. Perhaps I was a little drunker than I thought still.
When we reached the couch, he sat down, keeping me pinned to him. He looked at me, and in that moment, with pictures from the TV flickering around the darkened room, my heart exploded with an anxious happiness.
He licked his lips and said, “I’m sorry about earlier…when I picked you up. I just…the thought of what those guys could do, what I knew they wanted to do…it made me a little wild.”
My heart skipped a beat. Heated tingles warmed my muscles. “It’s okay, I understand. Like you said, Annabelle doesn’t need a repeat of her childhood.”
“No, she doesn’t, but it wasn’t just about Annabelle…it never has been.”
Words failed me. What was I supposed to say that?
We stayed still, both of us, just looking at one another as the weight of his words settled into some kind of foundation around us. An eternity seemed to stretch by, but in doing so, our faces inched closer and closer together, until finally, we were nose to nose.
He flicked his eyes to my lips and then back up to mine as if seeking some kind of permission. With short, shallow breaths, I was struggling to process anything as oxygen seemed the least important thing right now.
Then, like a kiss from an angel, his lips touched mine. Such a tender, sweeping brush over my mouth that I fell into a golden pool of delight. I closed my eyes, hoping for more, and I was not disappointed. He moved a hand from beneath me and brought it to my face, gently holding my cheek in his palm.
All too quickly, his lips were gone but hovered teasingly close.
“Happy birthday, Paige,” he whispered. “I’ve been waiting all damn day for this.”
Heat ravaged my cheeks. “Thanks…”
He kissed me again, but this time with a little more certainty, almost like he was claiming me. When he opened his mouth, I mirrored him, nervous of the depths this was going to. But just as he had done for the past few months with his hands, he stroked me with his tongue in such a slow, soothing rhythm, I could do nothing but succumb.
Chapter Three
I have no idea how long we kissed for, but when we finally stopped, I was breathless, full of tingles, and feeling things in places no one but me had ever affected. Was this really happening? Had Drake Francis really just kissed me and said he’d been waiting to do so?
A shiver ran through me. Drake held me tighter to his chest and rubbed his hands up and down my arms.
“Are you still cold? Do you want another blanket?”
I nodded. “Please.”
He lifted me from his lap and gently placed me down next to him. He placed a kiss on my forehead before he disappeared into the dining room and then into his bedroom beyond. I’d never been in his room and to say I was curious would be putting it mildly. Annabelle seemed to think he was some kind of nymphomaniac who went after anything with a vagina, so I was curious to see if his walls were lined with blonde bombshells, fake boobs, and seductive poses.
Less than a minute later he returned, power walking his way back to me. He unfolded a gigantic fleece blanket that had a picture of running horses sewn into its brown and white colours. He lifted it up and hung it around his broad shoulders. When he sat back down, he held his arm out and waited for me to snuggle into his body before he wrapped me up. Then came the familiar buzz of the electric reclining seat tilting us backward.
The sound of rustling paper caught my attention as he fiddled with something down the side of the couch. He lifted an A3 sized object onto his lap and smiled at me. It was wrapped in pink and silver paper, with glitter stuck to the silver. Sparkly bits were fa
lling from it, speck by speck because his hands were shaking.
“I…I got you a birthday present.” He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. “A real present.”
When everyone had showered me with gifts this morning, I’d been gutted to open Drake’s and see he’d followed the same quirky, fun theme the rest of them had. Along with Annabelle’s mug that said, ‘Best friends are like fat thighs…they stick together,’ and Drake’s embarrassing game of ‘willy hoopla,’ it was fair to say I’d spent most of the morning with a bright red face and trying to quash any disappointment with regards to Drake.
Now he was presenting me with something else, my heart jumped into my throat. Somehow, the meaning of this was so much more than what our kisses had been.
I looked at him open-mouthed. “What’s this?”
“Open it,” he said, pushing it to me. “I…I hope you like it.”
A matching gift tag was taped to the middle. I turned it over to read ‘Dearest Paige, in a world of monsters, let me be your honourable beast.’ With my own hands now trembling, I carefully peeled the paper off to reveal a beautiful antique gold picture frame. When I tore the paper further down and saw the saucer-sized white moon staring back at me, I gasped.
“Drake…” His name left my lips barely a whisper, but I knew he heard me when he kissed the side of my head.
“Do you like it? Is it okay?”
I unwrapped the rest of it to discover that he’d not only remembered what I told him about my favourite piece of artwork, but that he’d tracked the artist down to create this one-off, signed piece. I couldn’t help the tears welling up in happiness. I’d never had such an amazing, thoughtful gift.
“Oh my gosh. Drake…I…thank you so much. I love it.”
Craving Forbidden (Craving Series Book 8) Page 18
