His battle to walk away lost, he heaved in a deep breath and pushed open the bedroom door again. For a moment, he closed his eyes to get control of himself. When he was straight, he gazed at her, curled up on K-P’s bed, her black hair spread all around her. Missing her dad and needing Mortician.
Girls needed reassurance from the men they trusted with a gift they could never give again. They needed to know their lost innocence meant something.
Back the fuck up. Did he really just think that sappy shit?
He grunted and she turned, raising up on an elbow.
She frowned in confusion—and the tiniest bit of hope. Mortician wanted to pretend he couldn’t see it. Until the day he’d gone to her apartment, he’d only talked to her on the telephone. Everyday. For fucking hours sometimes.
He opened his mouth, then snapped it shut, not wanting to overthink what he might say to her. He’d just blurt whatever came to his mind.
“Want to ride to Vegas with me?”
Her tongue darted out to lick her lips. Sitting up, she stared at him as if she didn’t believe his words.
Well, that made fucking two of them. Whatever he’d thought to fucking say, it really hadn’t been that bullshit.
“Do you need company?” she asked quietly, offering him another out.
Fuck her, but why couldn’t she be like an ordinary bitch and demand shit from him? Or act so eager she worked on his last fucking nerve? Why did she have to give him chance after chance to walk away when he saw how much she wanted him and his company?
Leaning against the door, he folded his arms. He could be a cruel motherfucker and say some sarcastic shit about not wanting such a pliable girl. But it was just the two of them. No one needed to know about their private conversations. Besides, she wasn’t pliable. She was just independent enough to give him a silent fuck you when he pushed her away.
“Yeah, I do need your company.”
“My company?” she echoed suspiciously.
He clenched his feet inside his boots to stay in place and not carry her to his room to spend hours lost inside of her. “Yeah, your company, Bailey,” he said with a sigh. “I’ve never took a girl on a run with me.” Time for a dial back. “You don’t have to come with me. Feel me? If you don’t come, I guess I’ll never get to take a girl with me.”
“I already have my bus ticket to leave tomorrow.”
“We’ll only be gone three or four days,” he pointed out, determined to crack her cool façade, a side she’d never shown him. “I can always put you on a bus in Vegas.”
Her face crumpled and Mortician felt a small victory. She didn’t want to leave him. Hiding a smirk, he cleared his throat, finding words to test his theory. “It don’t matter one way or the other,” he continued with perfect nonchalance. “You can ride with me back or not. So come with me.” The churning emotions on her face made him shift his weight. “Your dad ever took you on the road with him?”
She shook her head, her hair moving with her. “No, he never did.”
Her answer gave him an even better excuse to bring her. “There’s some things I’d love to show you. The Avenue of the Giants. One of my favorite fucking places in the world.”
Anticipation crept into her eyes and she sat straighter. “Really?”
He nodded. “So. Make the run with me.”
“What are you going to do there?”
Remind motherfuckers of the danger of fucking over the club. Enforcing shit. “Club business.”
“What—?”
“In case K-P didn’t tell you, club business is club business. Nothing I’m discussing with you.”
“Okay.”
Back to this okay shit. Mortician gritted his teeth and studied his hands. “Okay, what? You understand? You riding with me? Both?”
“Okay.” She hesitated. “Both.”
Fuck the relief hitting him in waves. And double fuck his impulsive invitation. If she turned up missing, motherfuckers would put two and two together. They were like sharks on the scent of blood with him and Bailey.
“How was you getting to the bus station in the morning? Arrow was bringing you?
“I was getting a cab. Leaving my car in my space at my condo, since I didn’t cancel the lease.”
She hadn’t made a firm decision about moving then. Interesting and good to know. “Send a text to Meggie tomorrow. Tell her where you at and she’ll handle it.”
“I have to call my mom.”
“Would she call Arrow and tell him you’re with me?”
“No, but I should at least tell him, too—”
“Not if you want to go with me without a bunch of bullshit.” Because Arrow liked fucking bullshit.
“Okay,” she repeated, and Mort decided he hated that word.
She got to her feet and hurried to him, hugging him. His arms went around her automatically. She needed his comfort, after all. Needing to stay in control of the situation, he came to a quick decision. “No sex. We going as friends. Deal?”
She didn’t break her hold on him. “Deal,” she promised on a sweet sigh.
Chapter Fifteen: Hugging the Columbia
Bailey never thought about traveling the open road or what her dad must’ve seen with only the sky, the birds, and the trees zooming by.
She never considered what it felt like to have the night-darkened skies blend into the horizon only lit by the stars and the moon surrounding her. The wind hit her face, scattered her hair until Lucas stopped an hour after they hit the road for the express purpose of allowing her to fashion a ponytail in her hair.
Now, hours later, as the sun rose and turned the sky shades of purples, pinks, blues and oranges, Bailey could only stare at the beauty of nature. Her need to pee and the soreness in every muscle in her body from being seated on the motorcycle for nearly four hours nonstop couldn’t dampen her awe. They finally stopped, pulling into a wooded area, a wide swatch of water dividing the land into forks and snaking along. She knew it was the Columbia because Lucas had said they’d hug it for as long as possible before veering onto the highway.
Lucas yawned loudly, stretching next to her and scratching his jaw. “I need to take a leak,” he announced.
Bailey looked around, wondering if she’d missed something. Like, maybe, a building? Nothing in sight, though, but trees and woodland.
She stretched her own muscles and bent to crack her tailbone and release tension. “Me, too.”
“Come on.”
“Where?”
He frowned. “To take a piss. Where do you think?”
“You’re not watching me squat on the ground.”
His wicked grin made her blush. “Just pretend you squatting to take my dick in you.”
Huffing out a laugh, all types of retorts zipped through her head, but she stayed silent. He’d made her promise there’d be no sex. After hours of having her body pressed against his, breathing in the scent of his skin and his cologne, and thinking about baking cookies to keep her mind from straying to him, she wouldn’t fall for his flirting.
He was a flirt. Period.
While she was lost in her thoughts, he’d begun to tug her to the bushes. Once there, he released her hand, jammed the cigarette—also lit while she’d been distracted—between his lips, and unzipped his pants.
He pulled his penis out and proceeded to pee, sidling a glance to her, smoke curling around him. She gazed between his smirk, his fingers holding himself at the base, and his cock head.
Flustered, she turned and found a bush to scoot behind, staring at the water and seeing the swirls on the deceptively calm surface. Although she was still too close to him, her bladder didn’t really care about modesty. She made a small river tributary before getting to her feet. Lucas was already gone, so she retraced her steps back to his bike, where she found him digging in one of the saddlebags situated on each side.
“You hungry?”
She wrinkled her nose. “No.”
He pulled out a bag of jellybeans and to
re it open, pouring some into his mouth.
“You like jellybeans?” she asked, surprised.
“Sometimes,” he said, chewing in contentment.
“I like Sour Skittles.”
He poured more jellybeans into his mouth. “I’ll buy you some later.”
She tapped her pocket with her wallet containing her ID and debit card. “I have money. If we stop at a store and I’m hungry, I’ll get some.”
“I invited you, Bailey. You my guest. I’m paying for whatever you want.”
She rubbed her eyes. “I should argue about this, Lucas, but, in the great scheme of things, this isn’t a battle to wage, so I’ll just say thank you.”
He dropped the empty bag back into the saddlebag. “Ready?”
“No,” she grunted, rubbing her butt. “Every muscle in my body is hurting, but I know we have to get on the road.”
He cocked his head to the side. “So?”
So they get back on the road. That should be obvious. “Um, so…what?”
He narrowed his eyes at her, then stomped to where she stood. “So act like a fucking girl and demand we stop at a motel. Or that we hang here for a few hours.”
“If that’s how I felt, I would demand it,” Bailey countered, “but since I know you’re only expecting to be gone three or four days, I figure you have a timeframe to get there.”
“I have you fucking figured out,” Lucas said, scowling at her. “You getting your fucking way by being blasé and shit. That shit stopping. If you don’t fucking ask me to stop at a fucking motel, we riding straight through. Feel me? Another eighteen or nineteen hours.”
“Oh for God’s sake, did you piss out your brain? If you’re going to put yourself through that torture because you’re being a stubborn idiot, who am I to stop you?”
Growling in frustration, he shoved his hands through his hair. As he turned, Bailey thought he mumbled, “My brain blew out in your pussy when I came in you.”
She couldn’t have heard that right.
“Come on, Bailey,” he snarled over his shoulder and climbed on his bike, jumpstarting it into gear.
She mounted behind him, comfortable enough on the bike to enjoy the ride without clinging to him, but not wanting to give up touching him.
By the time the sun was high in the sky, Bailey’s eyelids were beginning to droop. She didn’t want to fall off Lucas’s bike and get killed, so she tapped him on the shoulder. It would be impossible to hear over the rushing wind and loud muffler. Five minutes later, he pulled to the side of the road.
“I need to sleep.” She had no problems asking for what she wanted, but he was just attempting to pick arguments with her. “I haven’t slept in hours.” In over twenty-four hours.
He nodded, but didn’t respond verbally. Less than an hour later, they were checking into a motel and Lucas was guiding her to a room, closing the door behind them.
“We sharing a room. This not the best area, so I think it’s best I’m in here with you.”
“Okay,” she said around a yawn, her eyes burning. She started toward one of the beds, but Lucas stopped her. “What?” she asked irritably.
“You’ll be more comfortable without your shoes and jeans.”
Guiding her forward, he thrust his chin toward the bed. She sat and he crouched down, pulling off her sneakers. Good enough for her. She crawled to the pillow. “Thank you,” she murmured, closed her eyes and immediately went to sleep.
When Bailey awakened, she sat up and blinked, trying to get her bearings. The dark room disoriented her slightly. Rubbing her head, she reached to her left to turn on her lamp. Finding only air, she scrambled out of bed, wondering at the time. She was probably really late calling her dad.
Dad.
Pausing, she licked her lips as it all crashed back to her. Her dad’s funeral. The celebration of his life at the club.
Lucas finding her and inviting her on the road with him.
She hadn’t been able to find her lamp because she wasn’t in her room. She was in a motel. Feeling her way through the dark, she found the nightstand and, eventually, the lamp and flicked it on.
An old analog clock read 10:26. Glancing toward the other bed, she saw Lucas asleep, lying on his back. The thin covers rested low on his hips, drawing her eyes to his six pack and the convergence of his pelvic bone in the most perfect specimen of masculinity she’d ever seen. His erection lifted the blanket and Bailey touched her nipples, massaging them to hard, little points.
She crept toward his bed, the core of her wet and aching. Although she hadn’t been too particularly impressed by sex, her body craved his. Standing at the side of his bed, she studied him. In repose, his face was pretty. His long lashes fanned his cheekbones, the well-defined structure of his face fit for an artist’s rendering.
The diamonds in his ears gleamed in perfect clarity. Tats covered his chest, sides, and arms, and Bailey deliberated on each one, seizing the opportunity, since, more often than not, he kept his body covered around her.
He shifted and his hair fell around him, loose and free, while his jawline led to lips that tempted her to lean over and steal a kiss. Knowing this wouldn’t be wise, Bailey shoved the thought away. Or tried to. But the more she studied him, the more she wanted to touch and taste him.
“I can’t stay still much fucking longer, Bailey.” Lucas popped an eye open. “Either touch me or move.”
Bailey squeaked and stumbled back. He opened his eyes fully and smiled at her, sweeping her with an unreadable look.
“You rest okay?”
“Just fine,” she said, flushing to her toes, even though her legs felt cool. “I need a shower.”
“Figured you would. I threw bleach all over the shower to disinfect it as much as possible. Didn’t do much, though, so try not to touch shit you don’t have to. Bleach remove fucking DNA from a crime scene.” He indicated the small door on the other side of the room, that Bailey assumed was the bathroom. “Can’t figure out what the fuck in that motherfucker.”
She wrinkled her nose. “That’s disgusting. I have no clean panties, anyway.”
He shrugged. “Turn the ones you’re wearing inside out.”
“Um—”
Her brows drew together as she felt more cool air brushing over her legs and thighs. Swallowing, she glanced down and found her jeans and socks off. And… “You took my bra off?”
“I’m more comfortable sleeping when my balls not all covered up. Figured your tits feel the same way.”
“You took off my shirt?” It wasn’t as if he hadn’t seen her naked before. Not only had he seen her naked, but he’d been inside of her, his beautiful body joined with her own.
“Didn’t have to take off your fucking shirt,” he said with a roll of his eyes. “I know how to remove a fucking bra from a bitch while her shirt still on.”
She scowled at him. “I’m not a bitch.”
He glowered at her and clenched his jaw, shoving aside the covers and standing. His impressive erection pointed straight up. Unable to stop herself, Bailey focused on it.
“Are you hungry?”
The nonchalant question caught her off guard and her gaze flew to his smug one.
“What…what do you want to feed me?”
His cock jerked and he searched her face. “What do you want to eat?” His voice was low and intense, a honeyed murmur that sent a desperate urgency through her. Heat burst through her and desire pooled between her legs. She wanted him and regretted her rash agreement to his No Sex decree.
Her lips parted and she studied his mouth before catching his gaze again. The hunger on his face weakened her knees.
Before she acted, he broke the staring match by sitting on the bed again and pointing to a rickety chest of drawers, holding a small TV.
“I bought you some shit. It’s in the top drawer. You want to take your other shit with you, I’ll get you a backpack before we ride out in a few hours.”
“Can we stay until sunrise?”
> “If you want to.”
“Just to rest,” she said nervously. “I don’t know if I’ll fall asleep again.”
He blew out a noisy breath. “Go take your shower, then we can go to an all-night diner. If you can’t sleep when we get back, then we’ll just talk ‘til it’s time to head out.”
Recognizing the curious, old-fashioned thoughtfulness he tried to hide, Bailey nodded, giddiness racing through her. She hurried to the chest of drawer, finding a new pair of jeans, a top, and a pack of panties. It embarrassed her to think he’d purchased something so intimate for her. Still, his consideration pleased her, so she gave him a bright smile and hurried to the bathroom.
Returning to the motel room after finding a twenty-four-hour burger joint, Mortician stepped aside so Bailey could enter. He followed behind her and closed the door. They’d left a lamp on, so the room was dimly lit.
Sharing a room with Bailey was the most fucked up idea Mortician had ever had. His dick was pissed as a motherfucker with him. Or, more to the point, his no sex decree. But, fuck…
He slid the chain lock in place, moving to his bed and sitting across from Bailey. He glowered at her, wincing at her sadness and at the loss of his Bailey. She was barely talking and barely smiling. What the fuck did he have to do to get her back?
Keeping his hands, tongue, and dick to himself was the fucking hardest test of his self-control that he’d ever practiced. He should’ve applauded himself, instead of feeling like the biggest ass on earth. His lifestyle gave him the freedom to get whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted. He was so used to bitches throwing themselves at him, he couldn’t even appreciate Bailey’s guarded dealings with him.
He rubbed the back of his neck. “So tell me something I don’t know about you?” He couldn’t imagine what that might be. Somehow, he knew everything about her right down to her shoe size. More than that, he’d remembered that shit.
“I had a boyfriend that I dated for six months. When I broke up with him, he started stalking me.” She shrugged. Fucking shrugged like what she revealed was acceptable. “He started pressuring me for sex and I wasn’t ready, so I thought it was best we part ways. And he didn’t take that too well.”
Death Dwellers Motorcycle Club:: Fifteen Bad Boy Biker Books Page 188
