“Don’t you worry about him.”
“I don’t give a crap about him. He can rot for all I care, but I’m worried whatever he’s doing is going to roll back onto you.”
“I can look after myself, Piper.”
This I don’t doubt. My mother is a survivalist. I want to push it, tell her I’m not going to do the photo shoots, the dinners, but honestly, I’m a little worried about her and this situation. Those events are the only real links I have into their lives outside of special occasions. As much as I hate to do them, I can’t lose those connections, not if Mum’s in trouble. She drives me nuts, but she is my mother, and now I’m starting to question everything. Have I missed tell-tale signs over the years? Has Grant been hurting her and I just haven’t noticed? Does she put up with it because she doesn’t want to lose her standing in society? Position is everything to Farrah Hollander-Ellis. She would put up with being abused if it meant keeping the big house and the fancy lifestyle, but I won’t let my mum be a punching bag for my stepfather.
“Tell Grant I’ll be there at the events he sent me.” I’ll be there if it keeps her safe, and if it keeps me on the inside.
Mum smiles. “Of course, darling. He’ll be pleased to hear that.”
“I’m sure he will.” My voice is tight, but if she notices, she doesn’t say.
“Now,” she rubs her hands together, “can I get you a cup of tea?”
And just like that, normality resumes—apart from the blooming red mark on her face. “No, I’m fine. I can’t stay long.”
Chapter Thirteen
By the time I get back to Kingsley, my head is pounding and my thoughts are a jumbled mess. I don’t know what to do to help Mum, not that she seems to want my help. Clearly, she thinks there is nothing wrong with my stepfather taking his hand to her. I feel like I’ve stepped into an alternative dimension. The Farrah Hollander-Ellis I know and grew up with would never allow anyone to touch her like that, yet she barely blinked at Grant hitting her. She took it like it was nothing. I’m angry on her behalf, but I’m angry that she’s not angry.
When I returned to the loft and told Cami what happened, she wasn’t surprised. In fact, she said more or less what I accused Mum of—anything to keep up appearances. I swear, though, if Grant touches her again, I’ll break his fingers. I don’t care if Mum thinks it’s normal and fine. I don’t. I don’t tell Cami that Grant grabbed me. Mainly because she would end up in a jail cell for punching his lights out, but my arm hurts. It’s definitely going to bruise.
I hate saying goodbye to my best friend, but it should only be for a short time now. As soon as Josh has cleared this infection, I’m coming home. I need to get back to my real life. I can’t continue to live in this fantasy bubble I’ve created in Kingsley. Ironically, the criminal biker club bubble is the one I’d rather stay in than my actual life.
I get back to Kingsley early enough that I could head to the clubhouse and drop in on the party, but I’m so tired and drained that I just head straight for the sofa. I order in pizza, eat a quarter and leave the rest boxed up in the kitchen. Then I take myself to bed.
I’ve been lying there less than twenty minutes, unable to quiet my brain when a repeated booming breaks through the silence of the flat, splinting through my thoughts.
What the—
The front door, I realise belatedly.
I glance at the clock, it’s just after midnight. Panic squeezes my belly. Who would be knocking on my door at this time of the night? Tossing back the covers, I slip out of bed and reach for my dressing gown as another bang sounds on the door—this one more frantic.
Moving out of the bedroom while raking my fingers through my hair in an attempt to tame it, I pad silently but quickly through the darkened flat to the front door, clutching my phone in my hand, the light from the screen illuminating my path. I should call someone, but my go-to is Jem and he’s currently ignoring me.
Maybe it’s just a random drunk, nothing sinister.
Carefully, I leave my phone on the side table near the door, pointing up so I have some light and creep to the peep hole. As stealthily as I can, I put an eye to it, and in the hazy darkness on the other side, I catch a glimpse of messy blond hair.
Jem.
What the bloody hell is he doing here?
I quickly tug it open as he raises his fist, presumably to hammer again on the door.
“Are you trying to wake up half the block?” I sound terser than I intended, but him pounding on the front door like an irate caveman is ridiculous.
He lowers his hand as his gaze moves from my sleep shorts to my camisole, both of which are clearly visible beneath my dressing gown. I quickly pull the two halves of the robe together, tying the belt securely at my waist as my neck gets hot.
His expression shifts from heated to annoyed. “You didn’t show at the party,” Jem grinds out.
I blink at him. This is why he’s banging on the door at gone midnight?
“Hello to you, too.”
He pushes inside the flat without asking, kicking the door shut with one of his heavy motorcycle boots. I have to step back to avoid his large frame. I don’t even bother to examine how good he looks. Of course not… Although I do note he’s wearing his kutte, his thick leather jacket on underneath that he uses to ride in, and a pair of blue worn jeans that hang loose around his hips, unfortunately hiding those legs of his—legs I know look amazing.
He also looks tired, his hair unruly, as if he’s been pushing his fingers through it all night. Did I cause this?
An unpleasant feeling settles around me. I don’t want to be the cause of this expression on his face. He seems… lost—well, beneath the mind-bending ire.
“Why didn’t you show?” he demands.
This tone, the bossy, arrogant, ‘give me answers’ one, riles me up, and given the day I’ve had, I’m fresh out of patience to tread lightly with him. I don’t care if he’s a biker who could, quite possibly, make me disappear without breaking a sweat. I can’t hold my tongue with him.
“I’m not entirely sure why that’s any of your business, Jem.”
“Seriously? I thought you were over your little spat with the Club. Then you don’t show to family day. What gives?”
Oh. So, this isn’t about me ignoring him. This is about me ignoring his precious Club.
“Not that I owe you any explanation, given you’ve blanked me since you kissed me, but I told your sister I had to go home for the day. I had a family crisis I had to attend to.”
His brow pulls together. “Which sister?”
“Sofia.”
“Fuck, she never mentioned it.”
“Well, why would she, Jem? Why would she think you’d be interested in me at all? It’s not like we’re friends.”
Judging from the way his brow gets heavy, he doesn’t like this statement. He chooses to ignore this last barb.
“What family crisis? You okay?”
Internally, I freeze. Oh bugger. I shouldn’t have mentioned it was a crisis. He’s staring at me now as if he needs to solve this problem.
“It’s nothing.” I wave it off.
“It was obviously something if you needed to go home.”
“Just my mother being my mother.”
“Are you all right?” he asks, his voice dropping low, soft, and it’s filled with concern. It makes my stomach dip.
“Do you even care?”
He recoils as if I’ve slapped him. “Of course I fucking care, Piper. What kind of question is that?”
“Well, you’ve completely erased me from your existence since you kissed me. I can only assume the memory of it was so awful you had no choice but to avoid me.”
I suddenly fear for my wellbeing. His left eye is twitching slightly and his jaw is working as words try and fail to form in his mouth, which is also moving, but making no sounds. Usually, I would find this amusing. I’ve done what I’ve been trying to achieve since the first moment he opened his mouth—rendered Jem Harlow speechless—but th
e darkness clouding his face is a little scary.
After what seems like an insurmountable amount of time, he manages to grind out a strangled, “What?”
I should let sleeping dogs lie, but since I started this, I’m going to finish it.
“I’m sorry if kissing me was so terrible, Jem, that you had to completely erase my entire existence from your memory. You can leave now. As you can see, I’m fine. You’ve done your duty to my brother. I’m safe, whole. I’d like to go to bed.”
I start to push off the wall, but I’m suddenly surrounded by Jem, who crowds me. His hands come to my shoulders, pinning me, stopping my attempt to flee.
“What the fuck are you talking about?”
“Let go of me,” I whisper.
His hands on me are too much. They ignite embers that I doused after the kiss, embers that should not reignite. He doesn’t. He presses my back against the plaster, and I tip my face forward, not wanting to see him.
“Piper, look at me.”
I don’t. Instead, I tell him in a small voice, “I want you to leave.”
“I’m not going anywhere until we talk.”
I shove his chest, but he doesn’t move. The man is like a brick wall of muscle. “The time to talk was a week ago!” I yell at him.
He lets out a breath and I watch in fascination as his dark brown eyes become tortured. “Fuck… I’m sorry, angel. I messed up.”
He’s… apologising?
I keep my eyes locked on his, unsure what to say, unsure what to do.
“I didn’t mean to completely avoid you, although you did tell me to.”
“I told you we couldn’t kiss again. I didn’t tell you to blank me like a pariah.”
“I know, but avoiding you seemed easier than facing the truth.”
Drawing air, something I’ve done every day of my life, suddenly feels like an arduous task.
“What truth is that, Jem?” I ask.
“That I want you, and having you puts me in a difficult position.” He closes his eyes and breathes in through his nose. Then he snorts a laugh. “If you were anyone else’s sister, it wouldn’t be a problem...” He moves closer, his palms going to the wall next to me, his face dipping into my neck. My respiratory system goes into overdrive as his nose nudges up my throat. “It’s not unheard of for inter-Club dating. Look at Logan and Beth, my parents, but Wade’s on this whole overprotective big brother ride.”
This surprises me. “He is?”
“Angel, he’s had ‘the talk’ with all of us at least ten times since he first clapped eyes on you.”
A lump is forming in my throat, a lump I can’t swallow around. I had no idea Josh cared that much. I know we’ve been working on rebuilding our relationship, but this action says so much more than any words over the past five weeks could. Tears burn behind my eyes, and I have to blink them back.
Jem cups the side of my face. “He made you forbidden fruit the moment you entered our world, Piper.”
“Is that why you want me?” I ask, resisting the urge to lean into his touch. “Because I’m off limits? Is that all I am to you? A challenge?”
He doesn’t hesitate to answer. “No, angel. Wade doesn’t control what I do or who I’m with. I want you because I want you. I want you because when I’m with you my world feels a little less frantic.”
It scares me that he sees me as a grounding force for him. Mainly, because I feel the same, and I didn’t even realise it until this moment. Having him in my space, my head, which had been spinning a mile a minute when I returned home, is emptied, relaxed, for the first time in hours. I try not to read too much into that, or consider why that is. I try not to think about why this giant of a man with all his stupid jokes and irritating behaviour stops my brain in its tracks.
“But wanting you is going to put me against your brother. He’s fairly adamant about no one touching you. He’s going to kill me for even contemplating the things I’m thinking about you.”
“I can’t have you and Josh fighting.”
“You don’t need to worry about me. I can take care of myself, but I do need to know that you feel this, Piper, that I’m not imagining this thing between us before I go to bat for us.”
His words are a plea, a demand.
I should deny my feelings; it would be the easiest course of action. Josh clearly does not want me with any of his brothers. He’s warned them all to leave me alone, but my heart thumps rapidly beneath my sternum as I think about Jem being gone from my life. This past week without him has been horrible. Forget the kiss, even without his presence. I’ve got used to him being around. As my unofficial taxi driver, he’s usually there at the start of my day and at the end, unless he has Club business to attend to. As much as he irritates me, I also enjoy his stupid banter. My week without him felt void.
It’s selfish, but I don’t think about my brother, about what this will do to our relationship. My only thought is of the man standing in front of me and what it will do to me if I let him go.
I dig my teeth into my bottom lip. “I don’t want you to walk away.”
Relief floods him as he leans his forehead against mine.
“Thank fuck.”
Then he attacks my mouth with a ferocity that takes me by surprise. There’s no hesitation, no wavering in this kiss. He takes what he wants and he wants me. He’s not coy, even if I am. His hands wander, dipping inside my dressing gown, finding their way beneath my camisole. I’m not wearing a bra, so he finds my nipple easily. He rubs it, drawing an embarrassingly needy moan from me. It’s been a while since I was last touched and Jem has magic hands. I’m a panting mess. I rub my thighs together to create friction to alleviate the tension growing down there, wishing his hands were also between the apex of my thighs.
I shiver and let out a shaky breath as I feel his hand slip down my belly, the muscles quivering as he slides past the waist band of my shorts and inside to cup my pussy. I barely breathe.
My brain is no longer calling the shots, my body is and it doesn’t care about propriety because his other hand is undoing the tie of my robe.
“Such a wet cunt. You’re wet for me, angel?” he murmurs into my ear, his breath warm against the shell.
I nod, my eyes going to the ceiling as his filthy words send a jolt of pleasure to my pussy.
“Words, Piper.”
“Yes,” I gasp as he tugs my shorts down my legs, leaving me exposed.
He slides a finger through my folds, even as his other hand keeps tweaking at my nipple, and my breath rips out in ragged pants. I should stop him. He’s Josh’s friend. He’s also a criminal. A biker. Our worlds exist on different planetary orbits, spinning on different axes, but as he strokes across my clit, a shiver rolls through my pelvis, and I know there is no force that could make me stop what is happening here and now. I’m too far gone.
Dark brown eyes lock onto mine as he slips a finger into my slick pussy and stretches it out before quickly adding the second then he moves them back and forth, hard. I grip his shoulders, widening my legs to give him better access. I feel full with him and when he adds a third finger, I dig my nails into his skin, my head tipping back as the pressure builds. I barely draw air as he keeps his pace and I topple over the edge, planting face-first into his chest.
“I need to be inside you right now.”
My pussy throbs with his words, my stomach somersaults. I want him in me, too. I want him in every way I can have him. He lifts me, his hands coming under my bum, and instinctively I wrap my arms and legs around his neck and hips.
Kissing me, he walks us into the bedroom and slowly lowers me onto the bed. As my body hits the mattress, he lifts off and removes his kutte and his jacket. In my daze, I didn’t even realise he’s still fully dressed.
I come up onto my elbows to watch as he strips for me. Then, getting impatient, I move off the bed, reaching for the hem of his plaid shirt and pull it up, so I can undo his belt. He lets me work on the buckle while he unbuttons his shirt and sh
rugs it off his shoulders. The undershirt he’s wearing is tugged over his head a moment later.
I have only a brief moment to admire his physique. He’s buff—I knew that from seeing him in his workout gear—but now, I’m getting the full show. He’s all hard edges and sculpted muscles beneath the ink work scattered over his body, and he is a work of art. I wish I had time to study the tattoos covering him, but there will be time for that later, maybe. He toes his boots off while I get his jeans pushed down his thighs far enough to release his cock.
It’s thick, veiny, beautiful, and already hard. I reach out and run my fingers over the shaft, ignoring the slight tremble in them. He makes a noise of appreciation in the back of his throat that goes straight between my legs.
That’s hot.
Softly, he pries my fingers away and I watch as he pulls a condom from his jeans pocket. I’m transfixed as he rolls it down his cock and into place before he meets my gaze.
“Are you ready, angel?”
Are we really going to do this?
Am I really going to sleep with my brother’s friend while my brother is in the hospital?
I pause and then I lick my lips. I’m weak because I want Jem, and from the moment I kissed him, I was done for.
I nod.
“I’ll take it from here.”
He pushes me back onto the bed, thumbing my nipple as he does, then lines his dick up with my pussy, running the tip through my folds. Lifting one of my legs higher around his hip so he can get a better angle to drive his cock deep, his fingers bruise my hips as he pushes inside me.
I gasp as he fills me completely from root to stem in one hit, my fingers grappling for his forearms as I try to ground myself. The intrusion burns for a second before my pussy relaxes. He doesn’t take his eyes off me the entire time as he stays seated inside, letting me adjust to him.
“Are you all right?” he asks, brushing my hair off my face as he looms over me. The gesture is so tender, I feel a lump in my throat.
How can this big man be this caring?
My breathing is laboured as I say, “Yes.”
He leans down and kisses me. Then he pulls back and pushes back into me. My legs wrap tighter around his hips and all that gentleness dissipates, replaced by a burning passion. This isn’t making love. It’s raw passion. It’s fucking—plain and simple. And he fucks me hard.
Forbidden Rider: A Lost Saxons Novel #5 Page 17
