Running Hot (Hell Ryders MC Book 2)

by J. L. Sheppard

  Crossing his arms over his broad chest, he had the gall to chuckle. “You want me to have a key.”

  Yeah, she did, but not the point. “Why didn’t you ask me?”

  Wiping the smile off his face, his brows shot up. “’Cause it doesn’t matter.”

  “Yes, it matters. It’s my decision who has a key to my apartment, and you took that decision away from me.”

  His gaze hardened, jaw twitched. Some of his anger leaked into his voice. “No, it doesn’t ’cause you let me take the spare anyway, a spare I’ve used a hundred fuckin’ times. It doesn’t matter ’cause you want me to have a key. And you can play this bullshit now saying and acting like it’s a big deal, but deep down, you…” He leaned into her. “…love that I have a key. ’Cause I have a key, I can come back tonight after my run and sleep beside you.”

  Uncrossing his arms, he snaked one around her waist and hauled her against him. “And baby girl, you know you love sleeping next to me. I know that ’cause while you’re sleeping, you pull me closer, burrow in like you wanna sear yourself into me, and you used to do that when we were just friends, too.”

  It didn’t come as a surprise. She loved sleeping next to him. His body kept her warm all night. She hardly ever woke when Thomas slept beside her.

  Again, he made several valid points. Not a single thing she could deny. “So, is that how this is going to be? You’re going to do things which concern me without asking?”

  Narrowing his gaze, with not so much as a thought, he nodded. “Yeah.”

  She turned or tried to. She couldn’t accomplish it since his arm held her in place. He released her waist. She took her chance and spun. Her gaze flew to the dirty pots she’d used to cook the pasta and meat sauce in the sink.

  He grabbed her wrists and held them at her sides then leaned into her so his lips were by her ear. “You know me better than anyone. You know I do shit without consulting anyone. You know I insist and insist until I get my way. You also know I only do this shit when it’s important. You are important, very important, keeping you safe is what I been doing for a long time ’cause you’re my girl, and I’m gonna continue doing it. I’m not gonna run everything by you. You know all this, and you said you didn’t mind me getting my way.” He released her wrists.

  Another series of valid points. She didn’t mind his borderline controlling behavior. It made her feel taken care of and safe. And it was him, Thomas, the man who’d saved her one too many times, but still, it didn’t change the fact he should’ve told her he made a copy.

  She faced him. “You’re right. I want you to have a key. I love sleeping next to you. I know you, and I don’t mind the way you are, but you should’ve told me you made a copy because not telling me is lying by omission and because you scared the crap out of me using it now. I would’ve been terrified half to death if you’d jumped into bed with me in the middle of the night.”

  He broke out in a huge grin, a victorious kind of grin like he’d just won a gold medal. He tugged her into an embrace. “Baby, you’ve never woken when I carry you to bed. I climbed into bed with you twice, and you didn’t notice till morning, and when you did, I didn’t scare you half to death.”

  This was true. It was also true she often woke in the middle of the night. Still, he was right. She was starting to hate when he was right. He noticed and kissed her long and deep. Maybe to keep her from talking. Maybe he just wanted a kiss. Who cared? She sure didn’t. That kiss led to touching and panting and sweating. Luckily, dinner didn’t burn.

  After they ate, Thomas left for his run. She distracted herself by cleaning house and doing laundry. Since he’d been leaving clothes at her apartment, she ran two loads instead of one, his and hers. After a nice long bath and reading an “I miss you” text from Thomas, she went to bed, alone.

  ****

  Tiffany woke in the middle of the night after feeling the bed depress. “Thomas?”

  He circled an arm around her waist, pulled her close, kissed the top of her head, and whispered, “I’m home, baby girl. Go back to sleep.”

  I’m home, he said like his home was hers.

  She smiled. Then for some reason, in the haze of sleep, she remembered what he’d once told her, that maybe one day he’d tell her why he called her, “baby girl.”

  “Why do you call me that?” She angled her face to his. Even in the darkness of the room, his eyes seemed to shine. “Is it because you still see me as that helpless girl you saved?”

  He hesitated. The arm around her waist glided up her back then forward, his hand coming to a rest on her cheek. He slid his fingers over the side of her face. “You’re right ‘bout one thing. I still see you as a girl, and that’s okay ’cause every time I look at you, I’m not a man. I’m sixteen looking at the most beautiful girl in school. You aren’t a girl anymore, and I’m not a boy, but you gotta understand, to me, no matter how many years go by, no matter how much more beautiful you get, you’ll always be that girl, my girl.”

  She couldn’t help herself then. Wrapping her arms around his neck, pressing her body against his, she kissed him deep.

  An hour later, they fell asleep sated, chest to chest, her head resting on his arm, his other arm around her waist, holding her close.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Thomas wiped his grease-stained hands on the white towel he kept in his back pocket then drew his fingers through his overgrown hair. He needed a cut last week, but last week, shit went down. After, he made Tiff his, officially, so for the past week, he spent all his time with her. He’d also gone to work at the garage and been on one run instead of the usual two to three. Because all he wanted to do was spend time with Tiff, he arranged to have two of his brothers cover for him on his Monday and Tuesday runs. Last night, he left her for the first time. She welcomed him back at three with open arms.

  It seemed too good to be true. Him and her, them, together, sometimes he thought he was dreaming. Honest, if he was, he didn’t want to wake up. He wanted to dream forever.

  Every morning he woke and every night when he lay in bed, he thought about when it would come—the inevitable moment Tiffany realized just how different they were.

  Bound to happen. So certain it would, he was holding his breath, living for the moment, knowing any minute all the greatness he had the last six days could end.

  “Yo, Cuss!”

  His gaze shot toward his right. Dash and Blaze stood just outside the door leading inside the office. He wasn’t far since he’d been working in the first bay, closest to the office.

  He neared and lifted his chin in greeting. “What up?”

  “The Camaro, when is it gonna be done?”

  “Just finished it.”

  Blaze took a puff of his cigarette. “Yeah?”

  He nodded. “Yep. Fina-fuckin’-lly.”

  “You mind doin’ an oil change real quick?” Dash rubbed his hand over the stubble on his jaw. “Got other business.”

  Turning, he glanced at the clock on the other side of the shop, past bays two, three, four, and five. A quarter after four, it’d be forty-five minutes until his girl got out of work, more than enough time for an oil change. Looking back at him, he nodded. “Not a problem.”

  Dash lifted his chin. “Thanks, owe you. It’s the Caddy Escalade back there.”

  He nodded then got to work. Half an hour later lying under the Escalade, someone kicked his leg. Glancing down, he slid from underneath the SUV and sat up.

  Blaze smirked. “Got this. Go.”

  “Naw, brother. Almost done.”

  Blaze lifted his chin, nodding behind Cuss toward the metal garage doors. “I’m thinking you’re gonna wanna deal with that instead.”

  Cuss stood and turned. His jaw dropped.

  Tiffany stood at the entrance of the third bay, wearing a navy pleated skirt, black blouse, and five inch heels.

  Shit. She looked gorgeous, so hot, blood rushed to his dick.

  Beautiful, always, she always turned him on, but that ou
tfit made her look hot in a school girl kind of way. What was it about pleated skirts? Shit. It hit him then. Just like the first day she strode in with a blown tire.

  She scanned the garage. When her gaze met his, she broke out in a shaky smile.

  Why? He didn’t know.

  Glancing around the garage, he spotted several of the customers staring her way, devouring her with their eyes. Not his brothers, his brothers knew better than that.

  If only he could do what he really wanted—rip their eyes out of their sockets. Only then, they’d know she wasn’t anyone’s eye candy but his.

  Damn. He needed to get it together, needed to get that a beautiful woman like her would get attention, and a classy girl like her didn’t need him getting in someone’s face for looking at her.

  Wiping his hands on the rag tucked in the back pocket of his jeans, he clenched his jaw, shooting daggers in their direction as he closed the distance between him and her.

  Her smile fading, she whispered, “H-hi. I’m sorry…I should’ve called. It’s just I wanted to surprise you.”

  WTF? Why did she think she couldn’t surprise him?

  The way he saw it, he had two options—explain why she could and should surprise him whenever she wanted or kiss her until they both forgot what she said.

  Cuss snaked an arm around her waist, dragged her to him until he felt her tits and stomach against him. Cupping the back of her head, he claimed her lips, kissing her deep and thoroughly. He’d been working for eight hours, was sweaty and filthy, but this didn’t stop her from circling her arms around his waist, didn’t stop her body from softening against his, didn’t stop her fingernails from biting into his lower back.

  He chose option two. But thinking of it then, option two was a bad idea. It turned him on in a bad way, too close to taking her right there. He couldn’t do that. Surrounded by too many people, no way in hell, did he want anyone seeing any piece of her.

  Before he did something he’d regret, he tore his lips from hers, the hand at the back of her head falling to her waist. Her green gaze met his. Feeling her rapid breaths against him, he smiled. “Don’t you ever apologize for coming to me,” he whispered against her mouth. “You wear that outfit for me?”

  She nodded softly. “Yes.”

  Yes. Sweetest response ever. It made his control slip. Shaft throbbing against her, he decided he’d reward her, giving them what they both wanted. He unwrapped one of his arms from her waist and placed it under her butt. In one swift movement, he hefted her up against him, her legs closed, bent at the knee. When her hands went to his chest, he kissed her again.

  As he began strolling away, she drew her lips from his. “Thomas, where—”

  He silenced her by releasing her waist to cup the back of her neck and push her mouth against his. Striding inside the compound, down the hall past the living room, she circled her arms around his neck. He let his hand slide down her back, under her shirt then up to unclasp her bra. She moaned ever so softly against his lips.

  Reaching the stairs, he drew away from her mouth to climb, taking two at a time. At the top, he kissed her again. His hand drifted to her front, grasping her nipple between his thumb and index finger. She arched her back and gasped. He opened his bedroom door, strode in, and closed it with his foot. Then he yanked her legs apart and wrapped them around his waist, pushing her against the wall. He ripped her blouse open, the buttons breaking away. Her breasts came to view. In one swift movement, he freed his cock, pulled her thong aside then buried himself deep.

  She screamed a scream that sounded pained.

  He stilled, gasping for breath, and met her gaze. “Shit.”

  “I’m fine,” she whispered.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “I’m fine. Please…More.” Tiff ground her hips against his, the sensation making him groan. She cupped his cheeks and whispered his name then kissed him, and he was gone.

  For the first time, he took her hard and fast and against the wall, the whole time staring into her eyes. It felt like fucking—fast, hard, and desperate, but it wasn’t. Because the whole time, he stared into her eyes, because he knew his shone with emotion, and because it wasn’t about desperately needing release but about desperately needing her.

  When he saw her eyes glaze over, her moans becoming more insistent, he knew she was close. He let go, spilling inside her.

  She screamed his name. The sound resonated around him and echoed inside him.

  As the strength of his release faded, he fought to catch his breath then averted his gaze, if only to gather his thoughts.

  He lost complete control. Greasy and sweaty, he made out with her in the garage in front of several brothers, in front of customers. Like a mindless caveman, he carried her out, undressing her en route to his room then he took her hard and fast against the wall. She wouldn’t know what any of it meant to him, but she’d think he’d treated her no better than a tap.

  “Shit.” He leaned his forehead against hers and met her gaze. “I’m sorry. Fuck am I sorry, baby girl. You’ll never know. It’s just I…” love you, can’t live without you. “…missed you.”

  She blinked. Her brows furrowed. “Sorry for?”

  He swallowed. “For taking you like that.”

  She smiled. “Don’t you ever apologize for making me come.”

  He smirked then grew serious. Still buried deep, he gripped the back of her neck and held her to him. “No matter how hard or fast I give it to you, it means something, Tiff. It isn’t fucking, and it isn’t just sex. It’s more, much more.”

  Her lips parted, gaze scanning his face for endless moments, giving him that look that said it all. Finally, she whispered, “For me, too.”

  Never had he expected her to say that. Honest to God, he didn’t think she realized it. He couldn’t help but grin and wonder if she felt that completeness he did whenever they were together, too.

  He didn’t know, still didn’t know how deep her feelings ran, but she hadn’t lied. She felt something and knew they were more than fantastic sex.

  For now, it was more than enough.

  ****

  Rubbing his palms on his jeans, Cuss dropped Tiff’s duffle bag on the bed and headed into the bathroom. Steam filed out.

  “Baby, got the bag from your car,” he spoke loud, so she’d hear him over the sound of the running water.

  She poked her head from behind the curtain. “Thanks.”

  He sprayed on some cologne and strode into his closet to pick out a shirt to wear. Grabbing a navy blue one and his cut, he walked back into his room. Tiffany, towel wrapped around herself, stood by the edge of the bed, hands in her designer duffle bag, rummaging.

  “Thought we could go get dinner then catch a movie.”

  She removed the band holding up her hair. It spilled around her. Focused on her hair, he didn’t notice the look of confusion muddling her face until she spoke.

  “Why?”

  He knew it could happen. She knew about Friday nights at the compound. He hadn’t told her, but she was friends with Mia, Lynn, Allie, and Tina. Women talked, so they’d mention it. But the last thing he wanted was Tiff at the compound on a Friday night because Friday nights at the compound got out of hand. The brothers created a ruckus, drinking, shooting pool, smoking weed, fucking taps, freely wandering wearing practically nothing. Not Tiff’s scene.

  Trying not to show his discomfort, he shrugged. “It’s Friday, date night.”

  “Yeah, it’s also the day the club and old ladies hang out here. Don’t you want to spend time with the club?”

  He shrugged. “Naw, rather be with you.” Not a lie. He made the choice a while back, hardly ever showed Fridays.

  Chuckling, she pulled out a pair of jeans from her bag and dropped them on the bed. “I didn’t say I was going anywhere.”

  “I’d like to be alone with you.”

  She straightened and quirked a brow. “We won’t be alone at dinner or a movie.”

  Looking away, he d
ragged a hand through his hair, trying to think of a way to explain.

  “Oh…”

  Through his peripheral vision, he caught sight of her sitting on the bed.

  “I get it. You don’t want me here.”

  No, he didn’t. He wanted her far away from club shit. It was for the best—for her best, for his best, and for their best, but damn, he hated she sounded upset.

  “You don’t want anyone to know about us?”

  He strode her way, kneeled in front of her, and enclosed her hands in his. “That ain’t it, Tiff. You know everyone knows ‘bout us. You know before we were an ‘us,’ everyone knew you were mine. Nothing’s changed except now you know you’re mine.”

  She nodded. “Then what is it?”

  He hesitated because he didn’t want to admit it, but since she asked, he had no choice. He wouldn’t lie. “The brothers get rowdy, drink, smoke, fight. They’ll even fuck in plain sight, one, two even three taps, and sometimes, at the same time. You’ll know who the taps are ’cause they’ll be walking around wearing close to nothing shaking their asses in our faces.”

  Cupping her cheek, he trailed his hand to her neck, gripping it. “It ain’t your scene, baby. You know it. I know it.”

  She swallowed and nodded. “What you mean is you don’t think I can handle it. I’m not good enough—”

  His fingers, at her neck, tightened. Not hard, not to hurt her, but to get her attention. He leaned into her, pressing his forehead against hers. “No, Tiff, we’re not good enough for you.”

  Her eyes widened. She drew back slightly and slanted her face away. He allowed her to do this, releasing his grip on the back of her neck. She then took a deep breath and met his stare again. “I hate it when you say that. Do you honestly believe money makes people worth more?”

  No, he didn’t think that. What he did think was that she was too classy, too sweet, too kind for that scene. “I—”

  “Money doesn’t mean anything, Thomas. Most of the men I’ve dated had money and not one of them compares to you.”

  Shit. She just… Had she just… He couldn’t even think straight. Her words shot right through him and struck his heart, leaving a beautiful ache in the center of his chest. She proved with a single sentence why he fell for her, why he could’ve never avoided loving her to that excruciating degree that made his chest feel like it’d been compressed.