Running Hot (Hell Ryders MC Book 2)

by J. L. Sheppard

  Her eyes shining so bright, she went on. “Just as I was thinking that, you proposed. That night you made love to me in our room for the first time. We fell asleep. I woke in the middle of the night thirsty and headed into the kitchen for water. You found me there. You made love to me again. Do you remember?”

  Did he remember? That whole night was burned in his mind. Every night, afternoon, day with her was and always would be.

  “The good memories far outweigh the one bad one. We can forget this ever happened together. We can make more great memories there with our son and the club. Please…” She shook her head. “I don’t want to sell our home.”

  Damn, he was caving. No, he already caved. He gave her whatever she wanted, not that she ever asked for anything. The epitome of easy-going, they always did what he wanted. Even when he asked her what she wanted to do, she always replied with, “Whatever you want.” He would do this for her because she never asked for anything, but most importantly, because he loved her and would give her whatever she wanted.

  He released the steering wheel to cup her cheek. “Okay, baby girl, you don’t want to, we won’t sell the house.”

  Shaking her head, she whispered, “No.” Her gaze fell from his. She shrugged. “Never mind…if you want to, then we should. It should be a mutual decision. I don’t want to live somewhere that’ll remind you of—”

  “I’m gonna remember it either way, Tiff.”

  Tears spilled from her eyes.

  “Every time, though, I’m gonna remind myself how lucky I am to have gotten to you both in time.” His hand in hers, he rested them over her belly. “I’m gonna remind myself all I have to be thankful for. I’m gonna remember the look in your eyes after…when I got to you. The way you were looking at me like I was a goddamned hero.”

  She smiled. “You are my hero, Thomas.”

  His chest compressed then expanded. All the love he felt for her pulsing through his body.

  He kissed her lips then smiled against them.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Cuss stared at her long after she’d fallen asleep. Still despite his resolve, he couldn’t settle long enough to do the same. He couldn’t forget the image searing his mind, the image that made his body ache right down to his bones. He ached so much he felt it in his soul.

  Releasing a breath, he shifted her until her head rested on the pillow instead of on his chest. He got out of bed and grabbed his phone from the nightstand. As he exited their room shutting the door lightly behind him, he dialed Blaze.

  Blaze greeted him with a question. “How is she?”

  “She’s fine. Fell asleep a bit ago.”

  “The kid?”

  “Good, too.”

  “Good to hear. About to drop Trig off, but suppose since you’re up, you wanna talk.”

  Cuss headed downstairs. “Yeah.”

  “Be there in a few.”

  The line went dead. Cuss turned off the alarm and stepped onto the porch. Soon, he spotted a pair of headlights coming down his drive. Trig and Blaze hopped off moments later and met him on the lawn.

  “It’s been taken care of,” Trig said.

  He knew this, knew he could depend on his brothers, his club for anything, for everything.

  “Handed him over to Chip. He wasn’t too happy. You and Trig know little ‘bout them, except the bad shit they were involved in ’cause you guys joined after we cut ties, but they were never into hurting women. Chip’s been trying to mend fences with us for a while, keeps reaching out to Prez. Chip’s hinted they’re gettin’ outta dirty dealings. Suppose it’s beside the point, but either way this dickwad only fucked their chances. I’m thinking Chip’ll make a lesson outta him.”

  He exhaled and dragged his hand through his hair, not knowing what he expected, not knowing how to feel.

  On one end, turning the sick SOB over to his club was the right thing to do. Cuss had his revenge, beating him far past a certain point. He couldn’t remember how many punches he got in. He’d blacked out, but he did remember the damage he’d done, knew it’d been enough his brothers had been forced to yank him away.

  Cuss was glad for it. Tiffany wouldn’t have wanted him killing, even though the bastard didn’t deserve to live.

  Saying fucked shit to his woman was one thing. Attempting to rape her with his son inside her, no less, was the worst thing that could be done to a woman.

  If Miracle hadn’t seen the SOB head into his house…

  If he’d been a fraction of a second later…

  “Chip’s gonna let us know what they do when it’s done.”

  He nodded.

  “Glad your girl and kid are okay. Heading out.” Blaze lifted his chin then strode away. Before he reached his SUV, he turned and added, “Don’t worry about what could’ve been, and enjoy your girl.”

  Easier said than done.

  Cuss watched him drive away.

  “I’m gonna tell you the same shit Army told me after Allie was kidnapped.”

  Cuss turned his head and locked gazes with Trig.

  “You love her, you make the effort every second of every day so the shit that went down doesn’t fuck with your head. Know it’s hard, but you have to do it ’cause if you don’t, you’ll ruin what you’ve got with her.”

  Losing Tiff, the girl who only got more beautiful, the girl he’d loved for so long, the girl who thought him a hero—one hell of a motivation.

  ****

  Tiffany woke with a start and sat up, her gaze scanning the left side of their bed. Empty, Thomas was gone. Pulling her legs over the side, her feet hit the cold tile floor. She strode into their bathroom. When she found it empty, she walked out of their room, down the hallway then downstairs. The alarm was off, the door unlocked. She headed for it and opened it. As soon as she did, she caught sight of him sitting on the porch steps wearing only a pair of boxer shorts.

  “Thomas?”

  He turned and met her stare, his sapphire gaze boring into her, eyes faraway, distant. She knew with that one look his thoughts weighed him. It had been that way since it’d happened. She knew it would be. The question lingering, whether she could ever do anything to make him forget.

  Offering him a soft smile, she closed the distance between them, squatted in front of him, and placed her hand on his chest. “It’s past bedtime.”

  He didn’t even force a smile. Instead, he leaned into her and kissed her, deep. His fingers dug into her neck, his hand at her back pressing her chest to him, his tongue darting into her mouth, sudden, daunting, and brutal like he wanted to brand himself into her.

  As suddenly as he began the kiss, he ended it. His hands went to her face. He pressed his forehead against hers and drew away.

  “No…please…”

  She always needed him, but tonight, she needed him to help her erase what happened.

  Wrapping her arm around his waist, trailing the other up his side until she gripped the back of his neck, she pressed her lips to his. “I’ll try to make you forget, I promise.”

  He slid a hand to the back of her neck and squeezed. “You do make me forget, Tiff… You make me forget everything, but you and him.” His hand drifted to her stomach.

  Heart clenching, she released a breath a moment before he claimed her lips, kissing her so differently from any other time he’d ever kissed her. Deep, slow, and sensual, leaving her panting against him.

  He pulled away, led them inside, locked the door, and set the alarm. Then he pressed his lips to hers, moving them into the living room, his mouth kissing down her neck as he did.

  In seconds, he’d removed her nighty and set her on the couch with him kneeling in front of her. Each movement, each action, he took his time, loving her. The desperate need that she came to know as a part of him, gone. He spent what seemed like hours on her, kissing her, caressing every inch, taking her to climax twice. Finally, he buried himself inside, the entire time moving slowly and purposefully. He made love to her holding her gaze.

  Sh
e watched the sheen of perspiration on his chest wanting so badly to lick it off yet unwilling to lose sight of the ravished look in his eyes. She then watched in sheer fascination as she’d done so many times before when his own release overwhelmed him.

  After several moments, he repositioned himself beside her, clutching her against him, chest to chest. “Love you so much can’t picture my life without you, baby girl.”

  She wiped the sweat from his forehead. “I love you, Thomas.”

  ****

  Tiffany stirred. Her throat so dry she could barely swallow. She parted her eyes, still cuddled close to Thomas though he’d since moved them into their room. She angled her head up. With the little light filtering in from the moon outside, she saw he slept. A smile tugged at her lips.

  She glanced at her nightstand. Beside the lamp, no water. She’d forgotten to get herself a glass. Actually, she always did. Thomas remembered, but he must’ve forgotten. Considering everything that happened, she couldn’t blame him.

  Slowly, she began to extricate herself from his side. Nearly done, he tensed, shot up in bed then wrapped one arm around her waist, the other grasped her thigh.

  “Tiff?”

  Damn. She hated she’d woken him. “Go back to sleep. I—”

  “You need water. I forgot to bring it.”

  “It’s okay. I’ll get—”

  “No.” He buried his face in the crook of her neck. “I got it.”

  Before she could argue, he hopped out of bed and disappeared through the door. A moment later, he returned with a glass of water and handed it to her.

  “Thank you.” She took a sip.

  He climbed in bed and kissed her forehead then lay close beside her. Taking several sips, she placed the glass on the nightstand. He ran his hand over her lower back. She shifted, facing him, rested her head against his shoulder, and placed her hand on his chest. He planted his over hers. Moments later, his breaths evened out. He fell asleep easily. With that, she realized he hadn’t lied.

  She made him forget.

  Epilogue

  “Baby girl?”

  Tiffany turned from her position on the small step stool ladder in the closet and called out, “Upstairs.”

  He appeared at the threshold leading into the room, wearing a pair of jeans, his cut, and a black tee showing off his chiseled chest and arms. As she took him in, she smiled.

  His sapphire gaze shot from her face to her feet then went feral. “What the fuck?”

  Damn. She let herself get caught. Carefully, she stepped off the stool and closed the distance between them. Placing her hands on his chest with her very pregnant belly between them, she got on the tips of her toes and leaned into him for a kiss. At more than six-feet tall, he towered over her. If he didn’t lean down, she wouldn’t get one. He looked like he’d refuse though he’d never refused before. She tried to pull away. His arm snaked around her back, holding her to him. He leaned down giving her a brief open-mouthed kiss. She smiled against his lips.

  He drew away. “Still pissed, Tiff. You know you shouldn’t be climbing anything. Told you I’d fix the closet when I got home. Told you not to try to do it yourself. Told you to wait for me. Told you this shit fifty times, and you didn’t listen.”

  True. Nothing she could deny. Tiffany knew if she disregarded him, she’d only infuriate him. She just couldn’t help herself. Thirty weeks pregnant and “nesting,” the baby’s room was nowhere near done.

  The old ladies and Tina hosted a baby shower for her last week. They, along with the rest of the club, gifted her tons of clothes, necessities, and she had to get it in order. Thomas insisted he wanted to help, insisted they had time. They did have some, except the next ten weeks would slip by.

  Besides, Thomas was being overly cautious, overprotective, and unreasonable. Just because she was pregnant didn’t mean she should be in bed or lounging around all day. He even suggested she take a leave of absence from work. Unless he wanted her to go stir crazy, she couldn’t do that. In her third trimester, her belly had slowed her down a bit, but the doctor and the books she read said exercise and staying active were good for the baby, barring complications, of course, which thank God thus far, they hadn’t had.

  Instead of saying any of this though, knowing he wouldn’t agree, she whispered, “We missed you.”

  He sighed heavily then ran his hand up her spine to the back of her neck, placing the other over the swell of her stomach. “You loving how you got me wrapped around your finger right ‘bout now, huh?”

  She smirked. “I don’t—”

  He leaned in, lips grazing hers, before he said, “You do, and that’s okay ’cause I love it, too.”

  Damn, how she loved when he did that, when he said things that made her heart flutter. He always had, even when they’d just been friends, though she hated it then. Still, he did it, often, and for no reason at all.

  “Your dad called. Said they wanted to come over. Said they’d bring dinner.”

  Much to her surprise, her parents had come around. She knew they weren’t pleased she married Thomas without telling them, but they hadn’t said a word about it, probably because she had no reason to tell them. Both her parents had since made an effort to include Thomas. Her father, in particular, had come a long way. She was thrilled. She loved her parents and wanted them to be a part of their lives. Thomas, because he was Thomas and despite the wedge her parents attempted to draw between them, welcomed them.

  “So they’re coming over?”

  “Yeah.”

  She slanted her head. “Do you know what they’re bringing?”

  “That pasta you like.”

  She smiled then twirled her finger on his chest.

  His gaze snapped to the movement for a brief moment. When he met her gaze again, he broke out in a huge grin. “After, was thinking we could make a fire outside…”

  He spent the last two months making small improvements to their home. First thing, he installed a surveillance system. Next, he hung a swing on the front porch and bought the most expensive fire pit he could find.

  The changes and improvements hadn’t gone unnoticed by her. She noticed too that the improvements he’d made, with the exception of the surveillance system, she’d mentioned in passing, and he’d gone out of his way to do—for her.

  A couple of weeks ago, she’d been thinking aloud when she said she was considering buying a shoe rack for her closet. In the master, they had two closets, his and hers. Hers was bigger, huge, in fact. She had a lot of shoes and thought a shoe rack would be a great way to organize and display them. She just as easily forgot about it. The next day, he came home with a large box. She assumed it was a piece of furniture but hadn’t asked. As she made dinner, he assembled it in her closet. Later that night, she realized what he’d done. And it was a huge shoe rack, four-feet in width, six in height. Needless to say, it was big enough to display all her shoes.

  The following week, they’d been watching TV together when a commercial flashed across the screen, a man on a hammock at a beach drinking a beer. She made a comment about how relaxing hammocks were. Two days later, they laid in their own hammock.

  He’d always been thoughtful, but as of late, he’d been more so. She thought it had something to do with her being attacked. This worried her. She didn’t want him thinking about it or stewing over what could’ve happened. Maybe it was unreasonable, but she wanted him to forget it. And so, she’d asked.

  He’d replied quickly, easily, and simply. “I’m doing what I’ve been doing ’cause I promised you I’d do everything I could to make you happy. ’Cause I wanna make you happy.”

  “Tiff?”

  Her name on his lips drew her away from her thoughts. She smiled. “Sounds good, but tomorrow night, just you and me.”

  He grinned. A devilish look in his eyes, when he said, “Won’t hear me complaining about that, baby girl.”

  ****

  Ten hours of labor and Tiffany still looked beautiful. All Cuss could do
was stare, stare at his girl with their son in her arms.

  She went into labor early that morning. He would be a liar if he said he hadn’t been scared out of his mind. A million things could’ve gone wrong. Luckily nothing had, and they welcomed a healthy, baby boy weighing eight pounds and six ounces. They named him, Mason Charles Layne.

  Cuss, at her bedside, held her throughout the labor. When the time came, he cut the umbilical cord. Then the doctor handed him his son. Carefully, he held him. Looking straight into his puffy face and eyes, a rush of raw emotion flooded him. He promised to be the best father he could be, promised he’d teach, love, and protect his son just as fiercely as he protected his mother. He didn’t know how long he stood there, staring at his beautiful boy. It wasn’t until he heard her voice that he realized he’d been at it a while.

  “Thomas… Is he okay?”

  He snapped his head up and met Tiffany’s beautifully flushed face. She’d carried him for nine months but hadn’t held him yet. She’d let him take his time. He loved that, loved everything about her.

  He grinned. “Yeah…” Walking the short distance to her, he handed her their son.

  Her face brightened, that smile that lit up her whole face, blinding. “He’s beautiful.”

  Settling beside her, he slung his arm around them both. “Yeah.”

  She angled her head to meet his face. “Like you.”

  He leaned into her, pressed his lips against hers then drew away only slightly to disagree. “No, baby girl, like you.”

  She shook her head. “Don’t you see it? He looks just like you.”

  He smirked. “That disappointing?”

  Her voice soft when she whispered, “I’m thrilled. A baby like you to spoil.”

  He smiled wide. Gaze snapping to his son, he ran his finger against the soft skin on his cheek. He did that for a long while and watched them both, thinking his life couldn’t possibly get better.

  ****

  The soft cries of her newborn woke Tiffany instantly. She jolted up in bed, swinging her feet over the side. Before she planted them on the tile floor, Thomas’s arm snaked around her waist. He hauled her toward him until her back hit his chest.