Impatient, Dare almost dragged me out of the shop to his bike. I secured my helmet but he still double-checked it before he bussed my lips with a kiss. I climbed on the back of his bike and held tight—I loved touching him with or without clothes.
The ride to Ardmore invigorated me, erasing all the weariness from too little sleep and a long day at work.
We parked in front of an Italian place, Rizzo’s. I stored my helmet with Dare’s before we walked inside. Dare caught my hand in his and gave me a lopsided smile. “I might be doing this backward, but we should hit all the stops, don’t you think?”
I frowned at him, totally confused.
“Taking you on a date, now?” He snorted.
“Well at least you know I’m a sure thing,” I teased.
The host sat us in a booth. I scooted in, expecting Dare to sit across from me, but he pushed me over and sat next to me, so close our thighs touched.
“What’s good? Have you been here?” I opened my menu looking at all the possibilities.
“My first time. Bear says it’s good.”
I decided on chicken parmesan and closed my menu, while Dare never opened his. A young college-aged girl hurried to our table. “Hi, would you like to order or drinks first?” She lingered on Dare, but then he was that sexy—the kind of sexy to get strangers staring.
“I’d like chicken parmesan with salad and bread, sweet tea.” I rattled off my order, already anticipating the cheesy chicken recipe.
The server’s blond ponytail bobbed when she nodded before turning back to Dare.
“Make it two, and add a Triple Crown on the rocks.” He handed her the menus.
I frowned at him. “I didn’t know you liked chicken parm.”
“Red, I like you, now tell me, why haven’t you pestered me to take you out before now?”
I shrugged. “I’m easy.”
His hand squeezed my thigh but he didn’t smile. “Nope, not it.”
“Fine. I don’t think about asking, for anything.” I paused. “I guess I’m not used to asking for things. I always go with the flow.”
“That’s not true either.” His wicked grin heated me up, especially between my thighs. “You aren’t shy about asking, or telling for that matter, when we’re in bed.”
I flushed hot and stared across the restaurant, more a bistro style I think. The butcher paper tablecloths and wire-rimmed chairs were cute. The booths were deep burgundy with high backs, which gave us privacy, I guess, or the illusion of privacy. It wasn’t a large place, but it felt homey and I wondered if the Rizzo family ran the restaurant.
“I’m sorry,” I squeaked, not sure what I was supposed to say.
“Red.” Dare spoke with a sharp impatience. I glanced over. “I’m sayin’ speak up all the time, not just when we’re in bed. Don’t wait for me to think of it.”
“Why did you?” I asked, regretting the words as quickly as I said them.
“Because I hurt your feelings today.”
I bit my lip and looked away. Everything did play over my face, so much for hiding what I thought.
“You did good work, I’m just not into sales and shit—people should come because they want the art.”
“Yeah?” I felt better already. “You know I wouldn’t go around you, the computer—”
“Just more of my pissy mood. I figured out I’d hurt you when I was back there inking that chick’s tit and replaying our conversation.”
“What?” I laughed.
“Yeah.” He gave me the strangest look. “And then I got it—while I don’t give a shit about the sale, that’s not to say your promotion piece was shit. You have a good eye.”
The satisfaction from earlier quadrupled with Dare’s approval. “Thanks.”
“Oh, speaking of art, tomorrow I’m doing your dragon.” His hand cupped between my legs. “No way I can ink you again with anyone in the shop, because I’m going to need to fuck you before we’re done.” The rough way he said it turned me on.
“Really?”
“Yeah, the first time was a close thing, but now that we’re together, that’s a requirement.”
The server carried a huge tray with a stand. She set it all down, bringing our salad with the chicken, and she’d clearly heard what Dare said, but I didn’t really care. He didn’t seem pissed either. She was bright red as she served the salad and the dinners.
He stared down at his plate with a frown, and I would swear he’d never even seen chicken parmesan before, let alone eaten it. So why did he order it? All the same, he dug into it like he hadn’t eaten in days. By the time we finished dinner, he’d worked me up until I only had one train of thought, getting him home to bed. Once the server handed him the bill, we were more than ready to go. I was ready to find a dark corner and jump him, to be honest. He glanced at the bill, about forty dollars, and dropped sixty—more than a generous tip. We left the restaurant in a hurry for my place.
Chapter Twenty-One: Lila
The next afternoon, Dare assembled his inks in back while I paced nervously. I wasn’t anxious about the art or even the pain, but whether I’d make it through the hours of work without tackling and fucking him. He hadn’t started and already my body hummed with desire despite the very satisfying orgasm I’d experienced less than an hour ago.
The squeaky noise of the cart coming down the hall meant it was time to start. Dare, freshly shaved, stood tall in a Harley tee and faded jeans, almost identical to the first time I’d seen him.
“You ready?” His gaze smoldered when he looked at me.
I wasn’t the only one worked up.
“Strip naked and climb on my table. Willing for whatever I want,” he commanded, and the fire crackling in him shot through me.
“You got it.” I shucked out of my shorts and tank.
His gaze raked me and sensual approval showed in his expression.
“Lay down with your head in the cradle. Don’t wiggle, no matter what I do.” The teasing challenge in his voice lit me up.
Once I was settled in place, his hand caressed the curve of my ass and I fought not to move. But during the routine prep work I zoned out like I normally did.
“Starting the outline.” The iron buzzed behind his words.
I didn’t move. My man marked me in the most personal, perfect way. Pain flared as the needle bit me and left ink behind. I floated away from the pain and bobbed in a sea, kind of like a trance. Distant from my body, my thoughts and feelings floated with me.
“You okay?” Dare’s voice made me surface from the haze.
“Yeah, great.” My throat was dry, making my words hoarse.
“Take a break, drink some water.” He patted my ass. “The outline’s done, I’ll be adding color and detail now.”
I sat up and stretched, meeting his gaze, but he didn’t focus on me. The art in his mind captivated him. I slipped off the table, letting my fingers brush his abs when I moved past him to the fridge. I drank a long pull from my water. Glancing at the clock, I was surprised an hour had passed already.
“You ready?”
I’d give a lot to be able to read his mind right now, so I’d know what he experienced when the art took over. “Yeah.”
The buzz of the iron lulled me back to the trance. This one focused on my biker as scenes with him floated through my mind—at the party, on his bike, the way he demanded numbers, our date, the way we combusted in bed. Then what he said. It still bothered me the way he’d put himself down when I’d lost it at his place. I’m not sure why it bugged me, other than the fact he appeared so confident. Why was he worthless? Bad for me? And why was he so serious?
His words came back to me: Don’t do reports. He hated paperwork. Hated travel. Hated texting.
An idea started forming in my mind but I d
ismissed it, even if everything fit. I’d never seen Dare with a book or magazine for that matter, but then that could be half of America. The chicken parmesan made up my mind, in the end. The casual order and the strange expression, such minor details, convinced me the most courageous man I knew was illiterate.
He couldn’t read.
I tested my new theory from different directions. It fit. The pain of the gun mixed with my pain for him.
How would I feel if I couldn’t read? Stupid. Worthless. Afraid. Alone.
My alpha man faced every damn challenge with a fearlessness that impressed me and frightened me at times. Yet if I was right, then those tests were nothing compared to navigating our world unable to read.
I had enough baggage for a small village, so I was the last person to judge someone else. I loved him, and whether he could read didn’t change it. Dare strode through life with a confidence I’d never have, and I wouldn’t steal even an ounce of it by mentioning something he’d hidden deep. Something that had to have scarred him, even if he navigated fine now.
Reading had saved me when I was a teen. I escaped into other people’s lives to forget about my misery.
How had Dare escaped?
Many of us were headed for jail until the Brotherhood changed our path, was what Jericho had said. What was Dare’s path before the Brotherhood?
The buzz of the gun stopped and my shoulder burned more now that I wasn’t distracted by my thoughts.
“Go over and look at this,” he said.
I stood in front of a large mirror on the wall. He held a smaller mirror behind me while I studied the artwork. Beautiful. Full of orange, red and yellow, the fire flickered and smoldered on my skin. The dragon, fierce and confident, danced in the fire. Without a doubt this dragon was the predator, devouring the fire.
“How did you? You did exactly...I love it.” I turned and hugged him tight. He’d captured my rebirth in all its fiery celebration. I’d witnessed his artistic talent, but now I understood more. He read me and drew what he saw inside me on my skin—a testament to this time in my life.
“Yeah?” He ducked his head.
I tucked the hair behind his ear. “You saw me, and you captured it here for me. Thank you.” I kissed him, trying to say all I’d left unsaid.
I love you. Never leave me. I’ll always be yours.
“Beautiful.”
“Yeah, you are.” He smirked at me. “Let me finish this, so I can start something else.”
The cold ointment made me shiver as he finished sanitizing and bandaging my new tattoo. My shoulder burned but his kisses down my spine distracted me. Heat spread through me when his tongue danced up my spine.
Licks and kisses caressed my back. I longed to press my clit into the side of the table until I came apart. His mouth skimmed my ass cheek and bit down.
He worked his way up my body. “Dare,” I groaned, moving my ass back into his groin.
“On the table, baby.” His voice sounded like velvet, smooth and luxurious.
I complied, spreading my legs and arching my back.
He stroked my hip. “Never needed you so much. My art on you. My cock inside you.”
“Yes, please.” I stared up at him, showing him the emotion burning inside me.
He was undressed in minutes. “Yeah, I’m going to possess you, mark you in a way you’ll never doubt it. You. Are. Mine.”
I shuddered at the possessive words because I wanted to be his more than I wanted to breathe. He spent the next hour claiming me inch by inch inside and out. By the time we came together, I’d lost myself with no idea where I started or he ended.
I sucked in air, unable to speak or move with my heartbeat echoing in my ears.
“You amaze me.” He hauled me up to him, turning me to his chest.
I nuzzled into his chest, wanting to be as close as possible.
“You don’t hold back. When I think we’ve pushed it to the limit, there’s more with you.” He smoothed my hair. “You reach me in places I thought gone.”
“Why? Are you so good to me?”
“You, Red, deserve only the best.”
I absorbed the emotion of the moment. This was as close to I love you as Dare would ever come.
* * *
The next week Dare surprised me with a trip to the lake—another club tradition, but it was hands-down the most relaxed I’d ever seen him. During the week at the lake, we came to some kind of peace, or understanding. I finally started to understand the club life and he’d embraced the fact that my sobriety didn’t change anything. But the most surprising part, Bear and I had become non-enemies, maybe even on the road to friendship.
After the lake, the intimacy of our relationship spiraled deeper. We talked all the time, on the phone, in person and in my bed. I no longer felt like I was on a runaway ride destined for the catastrophic crash.
Halloween passed and November blew colder winds while I wrapped myself tight into his world. We even progressed to the point he kept a couple changes of clothes at my place, and the bathroom stuff. Last week he’d called it home, and I’d almost come unglued.
Tonight I’d gone to dinner with Rachel and Andi while Dare and a bunch of guys played poker. He’d told me not to expect him, so after dinner I hit the bed early and fell into a deep sleep.
My phone rang and rang. I grabbed for it and hit the answer button.
“Red,” Dare slurred into the phone. “Too fucked up to work tomoday. Cancel...”
“Dare?” I wasn’t sure he hadn’t hung up. “You okay?”
“Feelin’ no pain but tomoh sucks,” he mumbled.
“Sleep it off. See you tomorrow.” I laughed at his gibberish and hung up.
I didn’t even know he got hangovers since I’d never seen him acknowledge one, if he’d had them. By ten the next morning, I had caught up my books, canceled Dare’s two appointments and paced my place in restless indecision. I didn’t want to open, I wanted to go see Dare hungover. Part of it was just morbid curiosity, but more I wanted to make sure he was good, taking care of himself. I knew a lot about hangovers, and hangover remedies, from my dad and loser boyfriends.
I called Zayn and he agreed to open the shop and warned me to stay away from Jericho—apparently his hangovers were epic.
Bikes littered the club parking lot, probably for Thursday morning breakfast. Wanting to avoid the crowd, I walked around to the back door.
“What are you doing here?” a voice called from behind me.
Bear sat in the blue porch swing that hung on the rusted swing set frame.
“What are you doing swinging? Missing your childhood?” Sarcasm mixed with scathing comments was Bear’s language of choice. Once I’d started dishing it back at him at the lake, we’d formed our semi-relationship.
“He’s in no condition to fuck. Not even you.” He laughed. “Come make a movie with me until he wakes up.”
“You aren’t my type, despite that sexy package.” I laughed too. “And in case you’re deaf, I’m not into sex for money. Some of us have standards.”
He grinned and scooted over. “Come here.”
I didn’t move for a minute, deciding on the wisdom of sitting so close to him. He was lethal with his mouth.
“I’ll be back after I see Dare.” I hurried into the hall and the room where we’d always ended up—I figured that was where he’d be. The room stunk of stale whiskey and sweat, but Dare slept fully clothed half across the bed, his phone on the floor where he’d probably dropped it after calling me.
I headed to his bathroom to rummage for supplies. I found Tylenol, ibuprofen and vitamin C. I considered heading out to the main area to rummage for what I needed but instead I called MJ. She told me I’d find industrial-sized bottles of vitamin B under the bar.
Heading up
front, I grabbed the bottle of vitamins, five or six bottles of water and a few bananas. I dumped it all in a sack from the kitchen before I headed back through the club room to Dare.
Bikers called out all kinds of jokes, mostly offers for their services since my guy was out of commission. I laughed and kept going, not wanting to get into any conversations while my guy was down. Better safe than punched again.
I turned on the lamp and he groaned, but I don’t think he woke up.
“Hey, babe, need you to wake up.” I spoke in a low voice.
“Don’t yell.” He moaned. “Fucking head is killing me, and my stomach thinks it can climb out of me.”
“I have a secret cure.”
He opened one eye.
I handed him four pills to swallow before giving him the opened bottle of water. He swallowed and I gave him four more. At the third set of four he frowned but took them as well.
He started to set the water down.
“Drink it all and go back to sleep.”
He grunted and drained the bottle before he moved to the center of the bed. I ran my hand over his forehead and through his hair until he was asleep again. Taking one of the full bottles with me, I headed out to Bear, deciding he was safer than the other bikers.
“So is this how you become a saint?” He cocked that one eyebrow at me.
“Nope, it’s by sitting with mean assholes like you.” I elbowed him.
He chuckled. “Told you he couldn’t get it up.”
“I gave him some vitamins and painkillers so he’ll wake up feeling better.”
With a tilt to his head, he studied me a long time. “Why do you do this shit? Cook here, give him hangover cures, do every damn thing he wants—you know he’s just gonna crush you in the end.”
I didn’t know that, or not for sure.
“Do you think I’m dreaming of white picket fences and happily ever after?” I snapped. Really I should leave before he hurt me more, but I needed to hear this.
“Yeah. And he doesn’t have it in him, no matter what he feels, if he feels.” This wasn’t said like the rest, but with sincerity. I think he was even trying to warn me.
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