by Paula Cox
“Natasha,” he said. It sounded like the beginning of a conversation; his voice was full of a confused wonder.
“Not yet,” Natasha replied, her eyes half closed, basking in the incredible intensity of their connection. “Let’s not talk just yet.”
They lay together under the overpass, and she rolled beside him, moving to place her head on his chest. Without hesitation, he wrapped his arm around her, and together they lay in silence, contemplating what they had just done, and what it could possibly mean.
Chapter 12
They lay together for what felt like hours, staring at the hard concrete of the overpass, basking in the glow of their now shared connection. Natasha’s heart was still racing, and she almost felt weak, but being in his arms was enough to make her feel safe. She had never done something like that before, throw herself at a guy she had barely met, and yet it felt so incredibly right in that moment. He was next to her now, breathing slowly, as though finally calm, and she propped herself up on one arm to watch his face.
He looked so peaceful at rest, and she wondered if he looked like this all the time. She knew that she should feel scandalized at the fact that she had just had sex with him under an overpass, but as she watched the deep rise and fall of his chest, she realized that she didn’t care.
Griffin cracked one eye open and smiled in a slow and sleepy way, which made desire once again dawn in Natasha’s lower belly. Noticing her scrutiny, he reached up and pulled her down, drawing her close to his chest. It was a little more than lust Natasha felt as they lay together, his face buried in her hair, his arms wrapped around her so tightly, but all Natasha could really feel about it was nervous.
“I suppose this is the time where you say something like, ‘Oh, I’ve never done this before,’” Natasha said, staring at the concrete above their heads and giving a bit of a smile. Griffin lowered his head to kiss her shoulder, his lips still curved into an amused grin.
“Well, it’s not every day I meet a girl who can ride like she was born on a bike.”
Natasha laughed. “Thank you, my father taught me.”
Immediately, her insides froze up. What did I just do? she thought.
Griffin lifted his head a little bit to get a better look at her face, his eyes narrowed in confusion at her admission and the way her muscles had frozen in panic once she realized what she had said.
Griffin studied her face and noted the panic, and as strange as it was, something began dawning on him that he must have simply been too blind to see before. Natasha’s eyes plead with him not to say it, not to say what they both knew was the truth, but the more hopeful she was about his silence the closer he came to understanding.
Griffin could feel his stomach drop in his chest, his mind already thinking back to the conversation he had originally with Damon, asking about Emanuel’s family. Damon had been vague, but someone could have shown up. He remembered the picture of a blonde little girl that Emanuel had, he looked at Natasha, who looked back at him, her amber eyes nervous.
“Everything okay?’ she asked, although she knew that it wasn’t, especially not if he figured it out.
“You’re Emanuel’s daughter, aren’t you?”
When he saw her face fall, he knew that it was the truth. Natasha folded one of her arms across her bare breasts, searching for her discarded shirt. She grabbed the soft, dark fabric and slipped it on over her head. In spite of everything that happened, she still felt incredibly exposed under Griffin’s searching gaze.
Natasha was silent for a long time, her mouth working around her own response, fully aware that once she finally owned up to it, everything was going to have to change. Griffin gave her the time to think, but at the same time, he desperately wanted her to say something, anything, that would confirm what he already knew.
He didn’t want it to be true, not because of the implications that came with the fact that he had slept with his former mentor’s daughter, but the fact that if she did say it, if she finally said it, everything would have to be different.
“Yes,” she said. Her voice was so quiet that he could barely hear her under the patter of the rain. She lowered her head, the still wet and clumped together strands of blonde hair falling over her face. Griffin reached over and brushed them out of the way so that he could see her better. After a moment, she looked up at him again, and he could feel the weight of everything shift into far more dangerous, and yet something far more exciting.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
She laughed a little bit. “I wasn’t sure who knew; I’m sure that people knew he had a family, but I also knew that his family, well, his real family, was with the Disciples.”
The quality of the light was beginning to change, slouching off towards sunset in that strange way that happens when there is no sun to see. Griffin could hear the rain beginning to let up, and he was thankful for that. As exposed as they were, he knew that it was better to get her back to her hotel for the night, which was much safer than the overpass could ever hope to be. He couldn’t ignore the sadness in her words—although he couldn’t understand it.
“Of course we’re family,” he told her gently. “But most of us still keep the family we have.”
“Did you?” she asked, her words slightly more forceful, putting all the weight of her years of abandonment behind them. Griffin drew back a little, knowing that he was operating a particularly dangerous minefield.
“I didn’t have a family,” he replied. “But you still do.”
Natasha snorted, not really wanting to hear the post-coital promises that she knew would never be kept, and she rooted around for her underwear and slipped them back on, not willing to put on her damp jeans just yet. Griffin dressed too, more out of practicality than want. If someone were to ambush him at this very moment, he knew that it would be smarter to be prepared instead of literally naked.
“Yeah, right,” she replied.
“No, you don’t understand,” Griffin replied. “You’re in this now; you’re part of the Disciples whether you like it or not. Do you really think that the Los Diablos are going to care that you don’t want anything to do with us? You’re Emanuel’s daughter, and they just killed Emanuel, and now it looks like they’re after you, too.”
Natasha flinched at the mention of Emanuel’s death. So it had been murder, she thought. She knew that it was more likely than anything else, especially after the events of the past day, but the idea of having it confirmed just made her feel sad all over again. What had Emanuel done to get in the crosshairs? Did it matter? Natasha herself hadn’t done a thing, and yet they were after her, too. The entire thing was too overwhelming; she rubbed at her eyes in exhaustion.
“I’m not like any of you,” she said forcefully. “I’m not part of this; my father had a job and that was it. Now he’s gone, and I have to move on.”
“I’m sorry, babe, but you’re not going to be able to move on,” Griffin said. He stood and moved to look at the weather, hoping that no one would come soon. “You’re a part of us now, and you need to understand that.”
Natasha finally put her jeans back on, the wet cloth sliding over her legs in the most unpleasant manner possible. She still felt tender from the urgency of the sex they had, and she relished the feeling before stepping back into reality.
“And what would that mean?” she asked, her voice quiet and calm.
“What do you mean?”
“If I’m part of this, one hundred percent, what does that mean?”
Griffin looked at her, as though he couldn’t comprehend what she meant. “It means that you’re in the Disciples; you ride with us; you ride with me.”
Natasha grimaced in the cold brought on by the rapidly setting sun, and Griffin judged the rain as it fell lighter and lighter. They would be able to move on soon, but Griffin didn’t know if he should move on before he got her answer.
“Let me think about it,” she replied.
“There isn’t much to think about,” he shot back
. “You’re in this or you’re dead. They’re ruthless.”
She nodded her head, knowing that full well. Griffin wheeled his bike over and handed her the helmet. She didn’t want to put it on; she wanted to feel the wind through her hair, the feeling of freedom all over again. However, she also just wanted to go back to the room and take a very long hot shower.
At this point, she wouldn’t have even minded if Griffin joined her.
They got back on the bike, and Griffin revved the engine, bringing them back into the rapidly darkening night. Natasha closed her eyes and rested against Griffin’s chest, feeling the closeness of him, remembering the time they had shared underneath the overpass. In spite of everything else, she knew that the look on his face as she rode him was going to be one that stuck with her for a long time.
Chapter 13
After pulling into the parking lot of the hotel, Griffin and Natasha lingered around each other as though they were both waiting for something. Natasha decided to break the tension once again and leaned over to press her lips to his. His arms wrapped around her, and she melted once again, his tongue parting her lips and deepening the kiss further. She pressed against him, as though never wanting him to leave, their breath becoming short and heavy, their desire threatening to overtake them one more time.
“I need to go and get some things from my place. You stay here, okay?”
She didn’t want him to go, and she wasn’t sure if it was because of her fear about the people who wanted to kill her, or if it was because she simply did not want to see him leave. He kissed her again, trying to keep it short in order to get moving, and she watched him with a sinking feeling, as he walked towards his bike.
Once alone, she locked the door as many times as it could allow, glancing outside to see if anyone was there before closing the blinds and pretending that the room was empty.
She took a shower for a long time, rinsing the gravel and dirt from the overpass out of her hair and off of her body; however, she was surprised to find that she was sad to do so. She could see the beginnings of small bruises freckling her hips in the mirror and smiled a little bit. She loved her trophies, and these were particularly well earned.
Natasha couldn’t stop thinking about Griffin…but what did that really mean? Griffin absolutely wanted her to be all in when it came to the club, when it came to him, but was she ready for that?
She remembered when she was young, the arguments her parents would have over the danger of him working the game. She would hide on the stairs and watch her mother cry, asking him where he was going, asking him why they had to keep a gun in the house at all times. Her mother had left her father and taken Natasha along with her when Natasha was twelve, and she did not doubt for a single moment that it was because of the club.
Of course, her mother was dead for over two years now. The Disciples had destroyed her family, and now with her father gone, she didn’t even have the remnants to pick up.
And yet there was Griffin…or was there? She knew how things worked; she remembered seeing pictures as a little girl of a much younger version of her mother perched on the back of a motorcycle, her arms wrapped around her father’s waist and a big smile on her face. Before Natasha had been born, her mother had been her father’s “old lady”—completely and one hundred percent his in every single way. That was the way things worked in gangs such as this; wives and girlfriends were allowed to ride with them, but they would never be considered more than property.
If she was all in, what would this make her? Would she be giving herself over completely to Griffin in all forms, being nothing but his in the context of the club? Sure, that would provide her with the full protection of the Disciples, but it would also change her life completely.
She tilted her head back to wash the shampoo from her hair, but her mind stayed on the task at hand. College was nearly over for her, and yet she hadn’t fully considered exactly what she would do. She had considered social services for a time, marrying some accountant who would be nice, give her children, and the sense of family she had always wanted. That had been her plan.
Now, over the matter of two days, her entire life was gone. Now she might be killed. Now she had to decide whether or not she wanted to trust this incredibly sexy, incredibly dangerous, incredibly good in bed man with the rest of her life.
Yes, the sex was incredible, but was it life-changing?
What did the Los Diablos want with her anyway? What did they see? Natasha was—in fact—the only daughter of the old president of the Disciples, but that didn’t mean much of anything. Considering the fact that she had kept out of the club’s politics for her entire life, she couldn’t imagine being enough of a threat to require death.
Just what had her father been into, if death was even on the menu?
Turning the water off, she stepped out of the shower and dried herself off, wrapping the towel around her body and walking back into the bedroom. Griffin was sitting on her bed, and as he saw her towel clad body, he leaned back on his elbows and appreciated the view.
“Hello,” he said.
“How did you get in here?”
He held up a small plastic card. “I took the extra key.”
“Right.”
“So what do you say?” Griffin asked, his smoldering eyes burning a hole in her towel. She felt her entire body go hot and cold at the same time under his gaze.
“About what?” she tried to keep her voice cool.
“About everything. The Disciples. Being in one hundred percent. What do you say?”
She didn’t know what to say, but she also didn’t think that was going to be an acceptable answer. Instead she dropped the towel to the floor, standing before him completely naked. His eyes widened a fraction in aroused surprise, and she crawled onto the bed and made her way towards him.
“I think that I don’t want to talk right now…,” she purred.
Griffin smiled as the two of them kissed, and Natasha allowed herself to forget once again, lost in the tangle of his arms and the sound of his heartbeat.
Chapter 14
It was just barely past nightfall, and yet the two lovers were already in bed. This time Natasha had not meant to do it, but for the past two days it seemed as though it was the only thing she was doing. Every time he would leave, she would swear that she would take the time to think about everything and really commit to making a decision, but soon enough, Griffin would return with a six-pack of beer, or a sack of tacos, and they would end up falling into bed over and over again. She liked to think that it was because her life was in danger, perhaps that was the best aphrodisiac.
What a whirlwind the past few days had been, only last week Natasha Morrison was a normal college student, only a few credits away from graduating. Now, after learning about the tragic and untimely death of her father Emanuel, who just so happened to be the president of the Lost Disciples Motorcycle Club, she didn’t know if her life would ever be normal again. Growing up, she did not really know what her father had done, or what being in the Disciples entailed, but now that he had been murdered by their rival club, the Los Diablos, she was starting to have an idea. Natasha had been devastated to hear about the loss of her father, but she thought she would have been able to move on, that is until someone attacked her at her own father’s funeral.
She was lucky enough to meet Griffin, the brooding and sexy vice president of her father’s club. At first, he had been infuriating, and she tried to fight her attraction to him as hard as she could—mostly because she did not want to see the look of satisfaction on his face if she gave in. Unfortunately, as the hours passed and as he was charged with her protection, she realized that she could not fight it anymore. They had consummated a terrible lust right underneath an overpass on the highway. It had probably been one of the most erotic moments of Natasha’s life, and although they had kept it up, Natasha still blushed thinking about the very first time. It was hard not to, given the circumstances.
Of course, sleeping with
Griffin came with so much more baggage than she had originally anticipated. She clearly had not been thinking when she first slept with him, but what about the second time? The third time? She could not seem to stay away from him, and with good reason. He had piercing, blue eyes and dark hair, and his entire body rippled with taut muscles. She had been stricken by him from the moment they locked eyes at her father’s funeral, but he was a Disciple just like her father had been, and to make matters worse, he wanted her to become a Disciple, as well.
Then there was the fact that it seemed as though the Los Diablos desperately wanted her dead. That also put a damper on things. Yet, there was something about the danger of it all that turned out to be a great aphrodisiac, and it seemed as though she could not stop jumping into bed with him at any given opportunity. He was like an addiction.
