by Laura Kaye
“You know what? You’re right.” He grasped her by the shoulders and manhandled her into the bathroom.
Laughing, Alexa worked to keep from tripping in the high wedges. “What are we doing?”
“Getting what you wouldn’t give me yesterday morning,” he said, pushing her in front of one of the sinks in the long vanity. Confused, Alexa could hardly keep up with the rush of his movements. And then he was flipping up her skirt and tugging at her panties and pushing her upper body down with a palm planted in the center of her back.
She braced her hands on the marble. “Grant—”
“Been thinking about this,” he gritted out. “I need it, Alexa. Just like this. Give it to me.”
The blunt head of his erection pushed against her core, driving into her. Or trying to. She wasn’t ready and her body wasn’t opening for him. He pushed harder. As hot as his urgency and need were, the friction was uncomfortable and his words were confusing.
Grant smacked her ass, once, twice, and the sound reverberated within the room. “Let me in, goddamnit.” He surged forward, penetrating her.
On a whimper, she pulled away, or tried to, but she couldn’t move much with the way he had her pinned against the sink. If he’d just give her body a chance to respond. “Grant, wait—”
“Be still,” he said roughly, his hand pushing her down harder. He withdrew, and she heard him spit. And then he was right back inside her again. “Don’t make this harder than it has to be.” Her fingers clenched and unclenched against the smooth surface of the counter, and she let out a moan at the burning friction. Her thoughts were a confusing, conflicting whirl, her heart raced in what felt a lot like fight or flight, and she almost perceived the moment as if she were watching what was happening rather than experiencing it.
What was happening?
Finally, her body provided the slickness that eased the way, but the soreness didn’t fade. “There it is,” he groaned, palm still holding her down.
He tugged hard at the tie of her dress around her neck, the falling material exposing her breasts, and then his hand fisted in her hair, forcing her head back and her gaze to the mirror. “I put you together. I can mess you up, too,” he said, meeting the reflection of her gaze. A cold sweat broke out across her body, making her dress cling. “So fucking hot.” He slapped her ass again. Hard. The sting made her cry out.
But otherwise, Alexa was . . . frozen. She couldn’t talk. Despite the emotions blowing up inside her, she couldn’t cry. She couldn’t even make sense of what they were doing, exactly. It had started out kinda hot, but it was also . . . scary. She liked rough sex and she loved a man who took command in the bedroom, but why was that the only way they ever came together anymore? And why did this feel like something else?
Like . . . punishment.
Like control.
Like he was showing her who had it. And that she didn’t.
Except that was ridiculous, wasn’t it? She liked it rough. She liked hair pulling and spanking and being restrained and having it hard and fast. Exactly what this was, and what they’d done many times. And Grant was her fiancé. They were getting married. She loved him.
Hand tight in her hair, he drove into her again and again, his expression harsh, his pace fast and frenzied, her hips and thighs knocking into the front of the counter each time. She could already tell that she’d be bruised. And sore. Despite the fact that she was wet, arousal wasn’t a part of this for her. Shouldn’t it have been?
Finally, Grant finished with a groan, his grip almost painfully tight on her hip. Panting, he held himself inside her for a long moment. Then he bent over, pressing her into the hard counter, and kissed her shoulder. “Dinner’s in a half hour, so you have time to get cleaned up,” he said. He pulled out, causing her to wince, and then he stepped to the toilet.
“Okay,” Alexa whispered. She grabbed tissues from the fancy silver dispenser on the counter to clean herself up, avoiding her own gaze in the mirror as she did.
Because she wasn’t sure what she’d see in her eyes, or how her expression might reflect the queasiness taking root in the pit of her stomach.
“Alexa?” Grant asked from behind her. She whirled, startled. “Everything all right?”
“Yeah,” she said, clutching the counter behind her to hide her shaking hands. “Just catching my breath.” And trying not to lose my mind.
He gave her a wolfish grin. “Okay,” he said, and then he walked out into the sitting room.
Alexa stared at the empty place where he’d been standing. Pull it together, Al. You’re fine. Everything’s fine.
Except that feeling of dread she’d been flirting with for the past couple of weeks was stronger than it had ever been before.
CHAPTER 10
The biker rolled into the big parking lot in front of the Raven Riders’ clubhouse and brought his Harley to a stop. Maverick gave a wave and waited as their newest prospective member hung his helmet on his handlebars and dismounted.
“Maverick, thanks again for sponsoring me, man,” Mike Renner said. Stocky, with reddish-brown hair and a close-shaved beard, the guy was a few years younger than Maverick’s thirty-four and had been a club Hang Around for almost a year. Mav had met him about three years before when he’d bought a custom bike from him, which was when Mike had first become interested in the club.
“Glad to have you,” Maverick said, shaking Mike’s hand. “Do me proud.”
Mike grinned. “I will.”
Nodding toward the front steps of the big two-story clubhouse, Maverick led Mike inside. “The induction ceremony is pretty low-key. Some words from the prez, advice from some of the patched members, and then you get your cut.” Maverick winked at the other man. “And then the hazing—I mean, the fun, begins.”
Laughing, Mike nodded as they stepped into the big front lounge that had once served as the lobby and reception area to the inn when it had been the center of a mountain resort decades before. On the wall by the mess hall hung all the members’ photos, including Jeb’s. Above the old registration desk, foot-high words carved into the wood spelled out the club’s motto, Ride. Fight. Defend.
Tempting smells that had Mav’s stomach growling came through the mess hall door—proof that Bunny, Haven, and Cora were putting together a fantastic, celebratory Sunday dinner—but Maverick led Mike in the other direction, toward the big rec room where about thirty Ravens were waiting.
A round of applause and cheers erupted as Maverick and Mike walked into the big rectangular room and made their way toward Dare, standing in front of the bar.
“Dare,” Maverick said when the ruckus died down, “I’m proud to sponsor Mike Renner for prospective membership into the Raven Riders Motorcycle Club.” After the insanity of Friday night’s raid on the Iron Cross, it felt really fucking good to have something positive for the club to focus on.
Dare reached behind him and grabbed a denim cutoff jacket with black leather patches sewn on here and there. “Mike, are you interested in becoming a member of the Raven Riders?”
“Yes, I am.” Wearing a black button-down shirt and jeans, he stood solemnly with his hands clasped in front of him.
“Are you committed to learning about the club, supporting its activities, being a brother in actions, not just name, protecting the club and its business, and putting your loyalty to the Ravens above all else?” Dare asked, nailing the younger man with his dark stare. The words sucked Maverick back into his own induction ceremony at the age of eighteen. He could still remember the pride he’d felt at standing next to Dare as Doc asked them these same questions and they became brand-new prospects together.
Mike nodded, his expression serious. “I am.” An approving murmur rolled through the group.
“The Raven Riders is more than just a club. It’s a brotherhood of men who share similar interests, interests that include standing up for those who can’t stand up for themselves. It’s a family of choice, made up of the brothers and their kin—a family that pro
tects and takes care of its own. We ride, we fight, and we defend as one. If you want to be a part of the Raven Riders, declare your intentions and accept your prospective status by putting on this cut.” Dare held up the jacket for all to see. Unlike the cuts of the fully patched members, a prospect’s cut lacked the Raven Riders’ patches and name and location rockers, or badges, on the back. Instead, both the back and the chest simply read, Prospect. The full patches had to be earned. “Wearing it proclaims your loyalty and membership until such time as we deem you fit for fully patched status.”
Mike stepped forward, and Dare slid the cut onto his bulky frame. Maverick grinned as welcoming cheers broke out all around.
The prospect came to Maverick first. “Thanks, Maverick. Really proud to be here.”
“We’re glad to have you,” Mav said, glad to have something to celebrate, something that let them all focus on the future. One by one, everyone shook Mike’s hand and personally welcomed him, and grabbed one of the beers Blake had served up on the bar.
“Words of wisdom for our new brother?” Dare called out.
“The more you contribute, the easier it’ll be to become a full member,” Bear said. Words of agreement rang out.
“Don’t be a fuckup,” Phoenix said with a grin. He raised his beer in a salute and gave the man a wink. Guys raised their beers all around to that one, and Mike took it in good humor, laughing and nodding.
A man of few words, Caine shifted on his boots. His ice-blue eyes zeroed in on Mike. “Never discuss club business with anyone. Keeping your mouth shut is always the wise choice if you’re not sure.”
Doc rose out of his chair, no doubt the hip and knee he’d had replaced a few years before bothering him as they often did late in the day. He ran his hand over the white hair of his beard as he looked at Mike. “As Dare said, this is a family. So start by getting to know everyone. Learn their names, and the names of their wives and kids. Figure out who can use a helping hand, and offer it. If a brother breaks down at two in the morning, go help, no questions asked.”
“Amen,” someone said. Others echoed the sentiment.
“Always have your brothers’ backs,” Jagger said. “No matter what.”
Maverick nodded, agreeing down deep. The loyalty and brotherhood he’d found in this club were just two of the reasons he’d built his life around it. He hadn’t had a good relationship with his father, which just proved that you could create a family just as well as be born into one. No doubt many of the guys felt the same way because there were a lot of loners, outcasts, and men estranged from their families for all kinds of reasons standing in this room.
Mav turned to Mike. “Whenever you’re wearing that cut, you’re not just representing yourself. You’re representing the club. And me. And every man in this room. Never forget that.”
Mike nodded, taking it all in.
Dare raised his beer. “To brotherhood, club, and family.”
“Brotherhood. Club. Family,” everyone called out, following the toast. Maverick took a long pull off his beer and clapped Mike on the back. “Welcome to the Ravens.”
The man smiled and nodded, and soon got pulled into a conversation with a couple other brothers. Music turned on. Laughter rang out. On the other side of the room, someone racked up the balls on one of the pool tables.
“The club needs this,” Dare said, coming to stand beside Maverick. Was his face pale, or was Mav just imagining it? The guy hadn’t seemed himself since Friday night’s fight. “New blood. Especially with everything that’s gone on.”
“Yeah,” Maverick said, eyeballing his cousin. “Fresh enthusiasm never hurts. Especially after the other night.”
“Amen to that,” Dare said. “At least it appears we put the Baltimore issue to bed once and for all. Nick emailed news from Chen this morning. They’ve confirmed that most of the Iron Cross are either in custody, dead, or scattered.”
Mav sighed as a weight lifted off his shoulders. Having that threat gone? Knowing those who’d hurt his mother wouldn’t be able to do it again? Yeah, he couldn’t help but feel good about that. “Glad that’s behind us.”
Jagger joined them, his fingers tapping out a beat against the back of an iPad he held.
Maverick clasped hands with the guy. “What’s up, Jag?”
He raked longish brown hair back from his face. “The carnival’s what’s up. And I’m nailing down volunteers for shit while everyone’s here.”
“Damn, Jagger. You work fast,” Maverick said. The guy always went above and beyond for the club, which was why their operations at the racetrack were such a success, recent catastrophe notwithstanding. “What do you need?”
“Eh, it’s not all me. I’ve had help,” he said, tapping on the tablet. “Okay, I have tickets, parking, and meeting the race car drivers almost covered. But I need setup and tear-down and dunking booth victims.” Jagger smirked.
“Count me out for that shit,” Dare said, and then he rushed to add, “Wound. Very serious wound. Can’t get it wet. Doctor’s orders.”
Maverick threw him a look. “Doctor also said to keep your stubborn ass off your ride. Expect me to push on that next time.” Dare flipped him off, clearly pleased that he had a reason not to get wet. Shaking his head, Mav said, “Count me in for the damn dunking booth. And put both of us down for setting up.” Dare gave a nod.
“Done,” Jagger said, then he threw Dare a mischievous grin. “Oh, by the way, D.”
“Yeah?”
“Haven volunteered for the dunking booth.”
As Dare’s expression visibly darkened, Jagger winked at Maverick and took off. Dare mumbled something under his breath about good hearts and wearing a parka that made Mav laugh.
Dare scrubbed at his face and released an agitated sigh. “You heading out?”
To Alexa’s hung unspoken in the air between them. Maverick tipped the bottle to his mouth and took a long draw. “Nah. Here with all you ugly motherfuckers is where I want to be for right now.” Seeing her yesterday had been fantastic, but it had left him feeling hollower than he wanted to admit. And he wasn’t leaving Dare when the guy looked like hell.
With a wry grin, Dare clapped him on the back. “Good. Then let’s find a place to plant our asses, because my goddamned side is killing me.”
The admission caught Maverick by surprise. “You—”
“Fine. Just overdid it. Which makes me sound like a fucking geriatric,” Dare groused as they cut through the crowd to one of the big groupings of leather couches.
“A geriatric dating a twenty-two-year-old hottie. Not bad,” Maverick said with a wink.
Dare glared at him. “Shut the fuck up.” He dropped into the corner of one of the couches on a grimace.
Maverick looked at him, and the realization hit that Dare wasn’t joking around like he had been. “Shit, D. You know I didn’t mean anything by that.” He sat facing Dare. “You gotta know I respect the hell out of Haven. As long as I live, I will never be able to forget seeing her save your life and protect your body with hers. Damn. I’m sorry.”
Waving him off, Dare shook his head. “Forget about it.”
“You’re really serious about her.” Maverick knew he was, but he hadn’t realized just how serious. Clearly. Dare just eyeballed him. “How serious? Talk to me, man.”
Dare nailed him with an assessing stare, then gave a little shrug with his uninjured shoulder that belied the significance of what came out of his mouth. “Forever serious.”
The words impacted Maverick square in the chest. “Have you asked her—”
“No,” Dare said, glancing around to see if anyone might be listening in. But the music and other conversations gave them cover in the midst of the chaos. “I’m in no rush. Neither is she. But when the time is right . . .” He shrugged again.
“Fuckin’ A,” Maverick said, managing a smile. “I’m damn happy for you. For both of you.” He meant it, especially since not two weeks ago, Dare had convinced himself that he’d have to send Ha
ven away—to keep both her and the club safe. Now, nothing stood in their way. Just as it should be.
Which just cast a big, ol’ glaring spotlight on all the things Maverick didn’t have, didn’t it? Probably made him an asshole to spend one second of time feeling regret in this moment when his best friend admitted to having found everything he ever wanted. Maverick knew it did. But he couldn’t help it.
“Thanks,” Dare said. “But do me a favor and keep your trap shut about it. I don’t want anyone teasing and making Haven feel uncomfortable. Or whatever.” Mav nodded. “And besides, we got word on Friday that Haven may be due some inheritance from her father’s estate, assuming it gets released by the Feds. So we got things to work through.”
“Ain’t that some shit,” Maverick said. “What’s she thinking?”
“She was stunned at first. Then said she wanted nothing to do with anything that’d been his. But then she asked me if the Ravens could use the money to help our protectees.” Pride and affection came over Dare’s expression.
“And then she was willing to consider it?” Mav asked. It was just like Haven. He still remembered watching her tend to Alexa’s wounds the day she came here. He’d already liked Haven then, but that was the day she earned his undying loyalty.
“Yup,” Dare said. “Cora told her she should use it to open her own bakery business, which I think is fucking brilliant, but Haven said she’d rather use it to help other people like herself. We’ll see. Either way, it’s up in the air for now.”
“You got a good one, D. For real.” Maverick took another pull from his beer.
“The best.” On a sigh, he relaxed back into the leather.
“Hey, speaking of Cora, where has she been?” Maverick asked. “I haven’t seen her around lately.” Cora Campbell was Haven’s best friend from back home in Georgia. The pair of them had run away together from some bad situations and landed with the Raven Riders last month. From what Maverick understood, Cora had played a big role in helping Haven escape from her father, and she was also sarcastic and funny as hell. What Maverick knew of her, he liked.
