by Raven Dark
My nails dig into my palms.
“You wouldn’t be calling her a liar, would you, Officer Henderson?”
Now I almost gape at him. He doesn’t move from where he is, but he cocks his head at the cop, and there’s a certain intimidating stiffness in his stance. His defending me should piss me off. The last thing I want is for him to think I need a big strong man to come to my rescue. It should annoy me, but instead, it makes my insides all tingly.
“Not at all,” Henderson says too smoothly. “But Miss Stanton does have a record of getting involved in these kinds of crimes. If she’s caught like this again, it’ll be worse for her. She needs to keep her nose clean. To be honest, I’m not sure the people she’s hanging around with are the ones setting the right examples for her.”
Holy fuck. It’s possible he could have been referring to Clutch; his statement is ambiguous, but I know he’s not. He’s talking about the club. Which means he’s made one of the biggest mistakes anyone can make. If Devil were there, he’d have torn him down.
“Wow.” I lean back again. “You got balls, disrespecting my brother’s—”
Riot sets his hand on my shoulder again. It’s barely a touch, but somehow, it feels like a warning. I should be wanting to shove him off, but instead, my mouth snaps shut. What the hell is he doing to me?
For his part, Riot’s grin widens at the officer, and for an instant, this calm, charming guy looks almost mean. Threatening. I watch with delight as the officer’s frame tenses, as if he’s trying not to step back.
“She’s leaving now. Red, let’s go.”
I don’t need telling twice.
Once we’re outside the station, though, Riot’s whole demeanor changes. Headed down the steps with me, his grip tightens on my arm as if he thinks I’ll run off given the chance. He marches me across the lot. His features are smooth and calm, but his mouth is turned down in a scowl.
“You didn’t have to defend me in there,” I say, feeling suddenly defensive. “And why did you shut me up when I was giving him the what for? He disrespected the club. He—”
“I think you’ve said enough. Get on.” He tosses me one of the helmets on his bike.
I catch the helmet, but I don’t move. Why is he being so surly with me? I hate that it feels as if I’ve disappointed him.
“If you’re taking me back to the clubhouse, I’m not going.”
He steps close enough to me that I can feel the heat of him, intense and electric. “Get on the bike, or I’ll put your ass there.”
The smooth, quiet tone of his voice has a steely dangerous edge that sends excitement all the way to my toes. The sensation only pisses me off more. He shouldn’t have this affect on me.
I meet his eyes—it takes effort, but I do it—allowing a hint of a challenging smile, and I still don’t move from my spot. There’s something about him that makes me want to push his buttons.
That’s the thing, though. I’m not pushing him to be a bitch. I’m not ready to face Devil when I know he’s going to turn this whole incident into something it’s not. I need to make sure I’m calm and know what to say to him. You don’t face a man like Devil without a plan.
An amused light flashes behind the warning in his eyes, at my defiance, I guess. He puts his face close to mine. “Listen, little girl. Just because you’re the President’s sis doesn’t mean I won’t throw you over my shoulder if that’s what it takes.”
“You wouldn’t dare.”
“Wouldn’t I?”
“You can’t. I don’t belong to you. Devil would kill you.”
“Wrong. Devil instructed me to bring you home by whatever means necessary. Don’t make me tell you again.”
Fuck. Why am I not surprised Devil gave this guy permission to rough handle me if I resist? It strikes me that if he knew about our little kiss, he wouldn’t have done that. And why in the name of God is my body shouting at me to needle him until he puts those beautiful big hands on me?
Unwilling to be further humiliated by his dragging me off as if I’m a misbehaving child, I huff and nod curtly, wait for him to swing onto the bike, and then get on behind him.
As soon as I do, I wish I hadn’t. The heat of his body seeps into me, and with nowhere to go and nothing to do but lean into him, his warmth wraps around me like a favorite blanket on a cold winter’s night.
Riot turns his head to the side. “What are you waiting for? I don’t bite.”
He’s telling me to hold onto him. I’m supposed to put my arms around him now.
God, I’m being ridiculous. I’ve ridden on almost every club member’s bike before, and it’s never been an issue to hold onto them, but with Riot, everywhere I could put my hands feels too intimate.
“Just don’t take it as an invitation, Florida.” I jerk my arms around his waist. The feel of hiss rock hard abs under his leather cut makes my hands shake with an absurd adrenaline rush.
And damn, why does he have to smell so good? The leathery, masculine scent of him makes my senses go haywire, and I almost bury my nose into his leather-clad back and inhale.
Riot pulls my arms tighter around him, pressing my hands into his muscled stomach. His fingers caress mine, a lingering touch. I try to pull them back in reflex and his grip tightens. I hear a soft chuckle escape him. He knows he’s getting under my skin, and he likes it.
Bastard.
He starts the bike and the engine roars to life.
Every second that we ride, the heat, the scent of him, the feel of him seeps further into me. Riding with the guys always makes me feel protected and safe. It’s exhilarating. Somehow, riding with this man makes me feel as if I’m in danger in a way that has nothing to do with the ride and everything to do with him. It’s a whole different kind of thrilling.
I try to shut out the thought of him, but that only leaves my mind to circle around to my brother.
I can’t figure out if I’m relieved that Devil didn’t show up at the station, or angry with him for it. On one hand, I don’t have to deal with his ripping me a new one—not right now, anyway. But on the other hand, once again, he’s not here when he should be, and that stings. I feel like one of those kids who’s father never shows up at games or school plays, who always sends someone else to deal with him. I feel…
Abandoned.
Oh, God, get a grip. So much for being made of tough stuff. The club has always been first with him. Always. It’s the burden of his role, and something girls like me are bred to understand from day one.
Still, I find myself pressing into Riot, seeking comfort I know I shouldn’t want from him. He strokes my hand, and then jerks his back. I feel more than hear him give an irritated rumble as it vibrates through his back. There’s a conflict in him, but what is it?
It would be too much to ask that he’s having a hard time resisting me, wouldn’t it? That he’s torn between wanting me and staying away because my relation to Devil puts me off limits. He’s too experienced to want me. That kiss was only him playing with me. He’d thought I was a club girl, so he staked a claim. I don’t want a man like that.
So why is my blood racing?
Half an hour later, Riot pulls over for gas at a small station in the middle of nowhere, still a good half hour from the clubhouse. He cuts the engine and swings off the motorbike, and I take the opportunity to use the bathroom.
When I come back out, he’s muttering to himself and slamming the gas nozzle home.
“Who pissed in your cornflakes, Florida?” I say, grabbing the helmet to put it back on.
He glares at me, opens his mouth, then snaps it shut as he puts the cap back on the bike’s gas tank. “It’s Devil’s business, not mine. You’re his problem.” He swings on, waits for me to do the same, and then starts the bike up.
I should let him stew, but I can’t. His anger is eating at me. It’s like he’s taking it personally or something. Is he just pissed at the mess I got myself into out of protectiveness for Devil, or the club?
No. That’
s not right. It’s like… I don’t know.
A few miles down the road, alongside a thick forest, I tap his leg, the standard signal for a rider to stop. He cuts the engine.
“What is it?” he growls.
“What’s wrong with you?”
Once more, he turns his head to the side. “Excuse me?”
“Why are you being so pissy?”
“I told you, it’s Devil’s business.”
“No, don’t do that. Don’t use my brother as an out. Come on. Out with it.”
His back stiffens. “Get off,” he orders.
“What are you going to do, leave me stranded out here in the middle of nowhere in the snow?”
“Get. Off.”
I huff and climb off, then drop my shoulders, waiting.
Riot slowly swings off the bike. God, he looks good doing that. He moves with the grace of a huge panther, his muscles rippling under the leather of his tight pants and cut until I’m sure it’ll rip. And he has a great ass, wrapped in those tight black, leathery pants.
Riot turns to me and crosses his arms in a way that’s remarkably like Devil as he leans against the bike. “What the fuck were you thinking, girl?”
The roughness in his tone takes me aback. “Wait.” I roll my head back. “Do you think I helped Clutch steal that car?”
“Did you?”
“Okay.” I push my hands though my hair. “So that’s it. First, you thought I was a club whore, and now you think I’m a petty criminal. A bit judgy aren’t you, new guy?”
He straightens, and somehow he makes the move look dangerous, predatory. “All right, first of all, what was I supposed to think? What else was a gorgeous young thing like you doing in a clubhouse, behind the fucking bar, serving drinks? You’re too young to be someone’s old lady, so what else could you have been doing there?”
He’s right, but I’m not about to tell him that. I shrug. “Oh, I don’t know, maybe, getting a beer for a friend.”
“Don’t get snide with me. You shouldn’t have been behind that bar at your age.”
I scrunch my brows at the confusing level of disapproval in his tone. How in the hell does he even think he can talk to me this way? I’m not a club girl. He should be afraid I’ll tell Devil on him. I love that he’s not.
“Why the hell do you care? And you didn’t seem to have an issue with it when you thought you could fuck me.”
“And as to the car thing,” he adds as if I hadn’t spoken, “you were caught in a stolen car with a known car thief, and this isn’t the first time.”
“So?”
He rumbles deep in his throat, and it sounds like a pissed off tiger. “I swear, if you were mine, I’d put you over my knee for what you did today.”
I stare. The words bolt through every ounce of my blood. My pussy throbs at the thought of his huge palm coming down on my ass.
“Did you steal that car?” he growls.
“What if I did? The guys in the club have done a lot worse.” It’s a stupid thing to say, but the double standard gets on my nerves.
“Answer me!” he snaps.
The force in that shakes me to the core. “No! Why the hell do you care so much?”
Okay, this is so not about the club, or about protecting the Prez’s interest.
“Are you involved with him?”
I do a double take. “What?”
“The guy you were with.” Riot closes in until he towers over me, his usually calm expression suddenly hard. His eyes burn like hazel fire. “Are you fucking him?”
“Why are you…” I trail off and my eyes widen.
Oh, my.
I don’t need to ask. I can see it in his eyes. There’s a hunger in his gaze, the kind that screams possession. My heart hammers. He’s into me.
His smile is slow and lazy when he sees I’ve caught on. “I must have a death wish.” Riot’s voice is suddenly soft and husky. He cups my jaw with his hand. It’s not the kind of hold a guy uses on a club girl.
I swallow.
“You’d better not be involved with that thief, girl.”
Ohhhh boy.
I swallow hard, excited by the warning in his tone.
I can’t help myself. I never make it easy for them. “And if I am?”
His fingers tighten on my jaw. “Don’t play with me, sweet thing.”
That’s the first time he’s called me that since he figured out I was Devil’s sister. The sound of it turns my bones to putty.
Jesus, I can’t be getting involved with this guy. First, there’s Devil, but there’s also my leaving in a month. I can feel my path, my well-chosen path to the life I want, trying to split in two even as I stare up at him. Everything in me screams to belong to him and only him.
“No,” I say softly. “I’m not involved with him, Riot.” Damn, the words feel like an offering. A choice made then and there. A promise.
His eyes close and his shoulders relax, as if my words have calmed a raging beast in him. His fingers brush my mouth as if my lips are sacred to him.
I lick my lips, taking a half a step back. “Wait…”
He stills, and it feels as if I’ve halted time.
“What about Devil? He’d kill you.”
“You let me handle him, all right?” His voice is a deep, husky rasp. I swear I can hear so much in those words. He’ll take care of things. Of me.
Oh, God, I wanna die. No one has ever been brave enough to risk my brother’s anger to get close to me. Respect catapults through me, and something else. A bittersweet sadness.
I finally meet a guy who has what it takes to be with me, and I can’t have him except for a brief time. I should be pushing him away. I should be running as far from him as I can, before he derails my life…
I nod very slowly. “But I’m leaving at the end of the month, you know.”
“I know. Badger told me.”
“So you understand that…”
“Yes.” The warm, understanding sound of his voice wraps around me. It drives home his perfection like a stake through the heart. It also does something that is utterly ridiculous—forges a connection between us that sets me on fire.
Riot closes in a little more until his hard, warm chest is pressed against mine. His eyes drink in my face as if it’s all his. “Sweet thing, I’m going to give you the best night you’ve ever had.”
Before I can respond, as if he means to prove his words, Riot tilts my face up and his mouth descends on mine.
4
One Night
The kiss is mind-blowing.
Riot doesn’t just kiss me. The man devours my mouth as if it’s all his.
His strong fingers tangle in my hair, tugging my head back and angling my head the way he wants while his lips bruise mine. His tongue flicks in and tangles with mine, searing everything it touches with each stroke. My pulse speeds up as his other hand cups my back, making me feel incredibly feminine, small and helpless in a thrilling way no man ever has. Then his palm slides up my back and over my shoulders, his fingers turning my muscles to jelly before they cup my nape.
His calloused hands are freezing on my skin, but the chill soothes the heat hammering through me. My heart pounds in my ears. I groan into his mouth, devouring the kiss.
I’m not a shy girl, even in bed. I never have been. When you live with a guy like my brother and grow up around an army of pushy, loudmouthed men who don’t give a fuck what anyone thinks and have zero filters, you can’t be timid.
My fingers tangle in Riot’s hair. He lets out a moan of approval, presses me harder against him, and deepens the kiss.
Everything about Riot and the way he kisses reminds me of why I love the MC life, and why I love the idea of the men who live it. Riot was made for this life. He takes what he wants, he kisses like an outlaw, and he holds me as if he means to rule me the way a biker rules the road.
It’s strange, but it’s the very thing I’ve always been drawn to about biker men that makes it clear I have to leave the
only life I’ve ever known. I can’t let myself be ruled, can’t let myself become nothing more than an extension of a man and his ride. There are women who want that, and that’s great for them, but as I told Devil, I want more. I need more.
But for this moment, I want to let myself be Riot’s. I want to forget there is anything else but him.
Us.
When he finally lifts his head, I almost sway.
“That’s some kiss, Florida.”
“I’m just getting started.” He traces my mouth with his thumb. “I could fuck you right here, sweet thing.”
I widen my eyes. “Right here, in the middle of the street?”
“On my bike.” But instead of turning me around and putting me on his ride, he pushes both of his palms under my leather coat. He squeezes and kneads my muscles, making me shiver in pleasure.
“What are you waiting for then?” I murmur.
A smirk plays with his mouth, surprise registering in his eyes. “You don’t hold back, do you?”
“Nope.”
“Well, slow your roll. I’m not fucking you here. You deserve better than a cheap, quick bang out here in the butt-fucking cold.”
“What are you gonna do? You can’t take me back to the clubhouse with Devil there.”
His smile widens, and for one horrible, terrifying, thrilling moment, I think he’s going to. Then he shakes his head. “I think we’d better not push this at him right now when he’s got so much shit to handle.”
“Agreed.” I can’t figure out if I’m relieved or a little disappointed. Maybe both.
He pats my ass. “I got this. Trust me?”
“Mm.” I nod.
“Good girl.”
We ride for about an hour, way out of Whiskey, but in the opposite direction of the clubhouse. I don’t know where he’s taking me, and I don’t care. Maybe it’s stupid, but the idea that he’s taking me away, away from Devil, from Whiskey and from anyone who would get in the way, is incredibly exciting. I’ve wrapped my arms around Riot, letting myself just be with him.
