by Nicole Snow
I couldn't let it. Not with this woman behind me, shaking like a leaf, gone so quiet she must've been praying for her life.
Didn't have a clue if we'd hit the border or not, passing into Tennessee. Just then, I didn't much care. My eyes scanned for neon signs, seeking a truck stop, a motel, anything that'd keep us safe while we waited out the storm.
Several more long, rainy miles passed before I saw it.
ROOMS AVAILABLE! The sign blinked through the blurry waterfall pouring down on us like a dream. Just a crooked old sign lit neon pink.
I didn't think twice while I swerved in, ramming my bike into one of the empty spaces. Hannah's nerves were too fried to get up when I told her to.
“Let's go, babe. Let me help.” She didn't fight me when I reached for her hands, pulled her off the seat, and into my arms.
Practically carried her inside while we moved into the dingy little front office. There was nobody at the register, so we stood there waiting. My arms were still around her, and I swore when I realized it.
“Shit. I'm sorry, I saw the storms coming when I checked the weather this afternoon. Thought we could beat 'em. Also didn't think hell itself was opening up and dumping the whole fuckin' sea on us.”
Another lightning bolt stabbed through the sky above the parking lot, drowning every other sound in savage thunder. My grip on her softened, sliding down toward her hips, palming that little nook near her belt line, where some man was gonna be lucky to put a kid one day.
“We'll wait this out, darlin'. Won't hit the road 'til it stops and the weather report on my phone says the coast is clear. You okay?” I asked.
“Not if you think I'm getting back on that bike tonight!” She spun, jerking away from me, her back going flat against the wall. She sighed, pushing her wet bangs out of her face, big blue eyes softening. “Look, I'm sorry, Dusty. I really am. It's been a long trip. I'm tired, burned out, and it looks like there's no chance I'll get home anytime before four in the morning.”
Seeing her freak the fuck out didn't even bother me. I stepped up slowly, a smile on my lips, letting my eyes roam her throat and her face.
This time, I took her softly in my arms. Reached out, cupped her chin, and softly pushed my fingertips into her skin.
“Ain't a problem. We can get ourselves a room here tonight, and wait for mornin'. It's just a short hop home from here. An hour, maybe an hour and a half. None of the boys are gonna miss my ass for a few more hours.”
Nodding softly, she pulled away from me, and stepped up to the counter, ringing the bell. A small, older man stepped out of the little room behind the desk a few seconds later.
We made our arrangements quick. One room for us to share, the best he had in this run down pit stop, deserted thanks to the storm. Going for two would've been risking roaches or bed bugs, but Hannah asked about it, telling me she'd pay for everything.
I leaned in, whispering my worries in her ear. Bugs seemed to set her on edge, so she agreed to one. Took every fiber in my bones not to get up in arms about that. But I gave her a pass to soothe things over, watching as she slipped the man her card to run.
I gave the lazy little fuck behind the counter a dirty look. Too many off-the-books shit motels like this had fucked over my club. Not so long ago, we had more dirty bars, motels, trucker spas, and whorehouses in the mountains. Same place Skinny Boy had rescued his old lady, Meg, from.
“It's straight down the hall, sir. Last door on your right,” the owner said. Hannah grabbed her bag and walked off before she heard the last part. “Only one bed, I'm afraid. Our spare cots are busted right now, so I can't offer any help.”
“Forget it. We'll live,” I told him, before I took off, heading for the room with the keys in my hand.
Yeah, we'll live. Assuming laying next to the hottest little ass I've wanted in years doesn't make me have a stroke tonight.
I didn't say shit to Hannah, stepping past her to unlock the door. Let her find out our dilemma once she opened it, turned on the light, and we stepped into the tiny room.
It was cleaner than I'd expected. I made the rounds, looking for any signs of screwed up locks on the windows that could make it easy for anyone to get in, or bugs waiting behind the headboard.
Nothing. Small favors went a long way tonight.
“Well...this is just great, isn't it?” she said quietly, looking at me as I flopped down on the mattress. “You're going to take the whole thing yourself?”
I lifted my head, mischief beading in my eyes. “Nope. We're sharing the bed, darlin'.”
“Sharing?!” Damn if her cheeks didn't go rosy red when she turned her head. “You know that isn't going to work. We can't forget what happened at the wedding...”
“I remember just fine, Hannah. Told you, I ain't doing shit to you, if you don't beg. I'm the one in control, remember? You're not getting so much as another kiss 'til you're good and ready. So, you can come on over, take off those wet clothes, and get some shut eye.”
For a second, she stood there like a statue. Staring me down, one hand perched on her hip, wondering if she can trust me not to tear off her clothes the instant she laid down next to me.
Truth be told, it wouldn't be easy keeping these hands, this mouth, and this cock to myself. Thankfully, age had its advantages, like helping a man save the fire and brimstone for the times when he finally sunk into a pussy craving every inch of him.
Blue balls had nothing on my word.
I swore on everything I had I wouldn't fuck this chick 'til she was good and ready. Yes, ready.
Ready to whimper.
Ready to moan.
Ready to scream my name when I frigged her clit so hard she squirted all over my balls.
“Darlin', the sheets are getting cold. I know you need the sleep. If you're still pondering the ifs, ands, and buts in your sweet head, you can stop. Here's some collateral so you know I'm going by my word.”
I sat up and stretched. She watched me stand, throwing off my cut, working on my belt. I stripped to my boxers, only thing I still had on that wasn't soaked, pulling out my knife and gun before I let my jeans hit the floor.
“Here,” I growled, stepping up to her, holding out my weapons. “You can hang onto these for the night, if they'll make you feel better. If you think my word ain't good enough, you're welcome to stick a bullet or a blade wherever you think it'll hurt the most the minute I put a finger on you.”
She grabbed the weapons weakly, shaking her head. “Dusty...fine. You're a good man, and you've been around long enough for me to know that, without any doubt. I trust you. That's not the problem.”
“No?” I said, cocking my head. “Then what the fuck is?”
We locked eyes. Must've stared into each other's souls for a solid minute, her not saying shit, but her eyes giving me enough hints.
She wouldn't tell me outright. I watched as she broke the gaze first, shuffling to the other side of the bed, laying my gun and knife down on the nightstand next to her. I listened to wet, slippery clothes coming off skin.
Damn if my cock didn't throb each time I heard something hit the floor. I hated having to make that fuckin' promise not to touch her, knowing I'd catch seven kinds of hell if I ever broke my word, inside and out.
No, I knew what was eating her. She wanted it as bad as I did, but for some reason, the girl was too afraid to admit it.
“You can turn around now,” she said.
I did, and saw her in bed, the sheet bundled tightly around her. A second later, I crashed down next to her, ready to focus all my attention on shutting up the lust churning in my veins.
“I don't mean to lead you on, Dust. You know as well as I do what could happen if we get too friendly, go too far...wouldn't be good for either one of us, much less your club.” She spoke softly in the darkness, almost a whisper, like she was afraid to finally hammer down the truth.
She swallowed, but something hard and bitter caught in her throat. “Please don't hate me. I really do appreciate the
ride home, and stopping here tonight, just for me. After Huck, I think you're the best man I know wearing that patch, though all of you are pretty great. I –“
“Darlin' – hush.” Reaching across the bed, I put my finger gently against her lips. “We've got nothing else to talk about 'til mornin'. You just get your beauty sleep, and I'll stroke myself off for being the biggest, baddest looking guardian angel you ever met.”
That got a laugh outta her. Fuck, her sounds were so sweet, so innocent, so good they touched my heart for a micro-second instead of just that hard-on I pushed into the mattress, trying to stamp it out.
“Goodnight, Dusty,” she said.
“'Night, babe. I've got an alarm set to wake us up by eleven to check out.”
A little while later, I laid there wide awake in the darkness, listening to her softly breathing in her sleep.
Couldn't shake the truth she said because it was the same thing I knew deep down inside. Hannah Davis was too damned good for any man in this club.
I knew it, she knew it, and so did her big brother. If she ever crossed a line she shouldn't, or anybody else did, my Enforcer would be ready to jerk their spine outta their skin, even if that person outranked him.
Exactly what he ought to do as her big brother. No, fuck, I had to keep it in my pants with her. Didn't need the drama or the trouble with war on the horizon in a few more months.
Wouldn't be long 'til I came back through these parts, my club at my back, riding against the wind and into the bloodbath ahead. We'd take out the Deads, win ourselves a trade route with Blackjack's Grizzlies or Throttle's Devils, or we'd all die trying.
The club's problems were a nice distraction from fucking the beauty sprawled out next to me. I focused on them harder when she rolled in her sleep, moving toward me. Shit, now her half-naked skin pressed against mine, with nothing but a sheet between us.
I'd been tortured a few times on runs that went bad, and they weren't half as rough as this. Had to think of anything that wasn't Hannah's fuck-worthy ass wedged dangerously close to my dick, and I had to do it fast.
Sometime before sunup, I heard my old man's voice. Early always came to me in my dreams, day or night, whenever I didn't shut his evil ass down with Doctor Jack or Jim.
I can't believe this shit. You always were an indecisive fuckin' pussy, Danny.
Sleeping with this fine bitch – just fuckin' sleeping with her – proves I was right. Hard to believe I left my club in the hands of a boy who don't even know how to use his dick like a man.
Rage coursed through me. Wanted to walk up to the corner where I saw his shadow talking to me, grab him by the throat, and spit in his big, bearded face.
Next time I looked over, he was gone. The fuck always disappeared before I could tell him how wrong he was, or how I was sick and tired of hearing his twisted shit.
I didn't run this club into the ground, old man.
I didn't get brothers killed for nothin'.
I didn't shit on Ma and leave her heart in a million pieces just for strange pussy.
All those truth bombs and more lodged in my throat.
Worst of all, I knew it wasn't really Early, coming up from his grave to taunt me like a ghost. It was my own brain, pulling make believe demons out of nowhere, mining them in my subconscious.
Deep down, some evil, screwed up part of my soul fought the rest of it, trying to tell me I wasn't good enough to bring my boys everything they deserved.
Good fuckin' luck.
I'd keep fighting, damn it. And one of these days, I'd spread the legs of the angel laying next to me, when she wanted it so bad I'd feel her little teeth digging into my skin.
She belonged on my cock, one way or another. I belonged in her, teaching her sweet young ass the dirty, addicting things a woman oughta know at least once in her life.
Wanted it. Needed it. Imagined it, right down to how her face would look when I took what was mine.
Opening her up, tasting her, fucking her with everything I had. Wasn't a question of if, but when.
Whenever that day came, I had a feeling it'd be the same day this club smiled on me for leading it to glory, bringing every brother a woman, a bottle of whiskey, and enough peace to enjoy it.
5
The Good Fight (Hannah)
It was early morning, and I fought the good fight.
Despite my worries, Dust was a total gentleman the whole night through. At some point, his arm strayed over to my side. I woke up with it wrapped around my waist, the tattoos inked in his skin shining beneath the sun.
Why didn't I push it away, or wriggle out of his grasp? Deep down, I already knew.
He made me crave his lips again, even when I just laid there and looked at them, studying the rough contours and tiny scars in his strong face.
He made me wet like nobody else ever had. Sure, I had a weakness for men with loud bikes and ferocious tattoos. Went with the territory in the dirty, dangerous place I'd grown up in, especially after Firefly found his place among their ranks.
Dusty made me think about taking my V-card and burning it in the worst way, and that wasn't going to change. Not when we finally got up and went about our day, or when I inevitably thought about him again the next time I wandered through my phone's contacts.
My nerves tingled in the best ways. Lust, fear, adrenaline, and disbelief all clashed in my blood, raging louder than the tremendous storms that swept over us last night, landing us in the same bed.
It wouldn't take much to give away everything now, if I wanted.
My instinct was raw, hungry, urging me over and over to pull the covers down, climb on top of him, and start to lick every sweet inch of his gorgeous skin.
Obviously, I had bigger problems to deal with once he brought me home. I'd need a whole new build for my app to cover everything, including the bastards telling me I'd die if I didn't cover their asses, too.
Thinking about what Dusty thought in his dreams each time he groaned should've been the least of my worries. But the biggest, baddest, most beautiful problem I'd ever seen was sprawled out next to me, his hand pulling at my hip a little more each time his face twitched in his sleep.
If only I could've given into him for a single second. Just reached out, touched him, slid one hand down the delicious stubble covering his cheek. Maybe it would've wrecked my worries for the rest of the day, cast Dom and his devils into the dark and dirty part of my head where they belonged.
My fingers stiffened. Slowly, my hand came up, moving toward Dust's face.
One little stroke, I told myself, just enough to feel his skin. I was nearly to his cheek when his eyelids opened, so suddenly I gasped.
Two bright, fearless grey eyes stared into mine, beaming with total control. If he was surprised, he didn't show it.
“I-I'm sorry,” I stammered. “I was trying to get the change you threw on your nightstand. Just wanted to get a drink from the vending machine, maybe see if they had a little coffee. I would've paid you back, obviously.”
The boy had talent.
How the hell did he tie my tongue in knots and make my heart beat a hundred miles an hour over nothing? Damn.
Those steel grey eyes piercing into my soul narrowed, and the ghost of a smile tugged at his lips. “Looked more like you were thirsty for somethin' else, darlin'. You want some of that, be my guest any time. Funny, I always thought you'd at least say good mornin' first before moving straight to fuckin'.”
“That's not what I was after,” I lied, turning around in the sheets and pulling them tight, dragging myself out of his grip. “I told you already, I was thirsty.”
“Mm-hmm,” he said, rolling on his back, barely suppressing a smug smile. “Soda machine's down the hall. You take whatever you need off my nightstand, or below my belt line. Your choice, Hannah.”
I stood, keeping the sheet around me. It wasn't like he was blind to my body, seeing how I'd stripped down to my bra and panties. Still, I'd lose it if he had a second look with that expre
ssion on his face.
“Actually, I think I need a shower. Why don't you go find us something to help wake ourselves up? I could really use a snack, too. Haven't eaten since the crappy salad they served on the plane last night.”
“Whatever you say, babe. I'll take care of all your needs.”
God! Is there anything he won't say that isn't loaded with innuendo?
I seriously had to stop and wonder how much was Dusty screwing with me, and how much was in my head, making it worse.
My nose wrinkled, unsure whether I was more annoyed with him or myself for getting wetter the longer he stared at me, the more he teased.
I couldn't even fire back. Sauntering past him, I held my sheet tighter, grabbing my little suitcase for a fresh change of clothes.
The long, cool shower helped. I took my time, hoping to God he'd be dressed and looking normal by the time I stepped out.
We'd started the day on a bad note. I wasn't going to deal with his biker bastard flirting the whole way back to Knoxville, even if it was only a short stretch home.
A couple hours on his bike might be an eternity with this kind of tension hanging in the balance.
No, we had to go on. Which meant touching his stupidly huge, hard, arrogant body, feeling him bristle with joy whenever my hands moved a little too low on his abs for their own good.
I hated this ridiculous dance, wilder than the pheromones that must've swirled around us every time we shared the same room. Hated it straight down to my core, which ached like a fiend for Dusty's hands, his lips, his savage, sexy threats smoldering in my ear.
Hated it.
Hated myself.
Hated him and his defiantly gorgeous looks, his testosterone incarnate, his ability to put every woman under a spell that made her want to drop panties and slide down on his stereotypically huge cock.
By the time I stepped out of the shower, dried myself off, and changed my clothes, I pressed my ear against the door, listening intently for him outside. The TV was on low, a morning weather report or something droning in the background.
