by Kara Parker
“Fair enough.” His eyes blazed. “Now, Ms. Queene. Would you like to come in?”
Shayla’s breath caught in her throat. The apology had gone so quickly and smoothly. To already be on to the other part? She didn’t know what to do with herself.
“Uh, yeah.” She nodded. “I can come in for a bit.”
He stepped aside to let her pass, but not far enough for her to do so without brushing against him. As soon as her shoulder touched his chest, her pulse spiked and her insides tingled. She stopped for a breath, just long enough to look up and see the lust pooling in his eyes. His face had gone from cheerful and carefree to intense and dark in a matter of seconds.
It was so hot.
Shayla took another step, which brought her fully inside his door frame. Two more steps and she was far enough away that Luke could swing the door closed behind her. She turned to look at him, expecting him to still be standing there watching her, but he was already reaching for her, pulling her to him and pushing her against the wall.
Shayla responded with ferocity, mashing her lips feverishly against his. The yearning she felt for him deep in her bones, that had been lying in wait for the past two days, jumped up and took over. She was more animal than woman, raking her nails down his back, feeling the way his muscles flexed under his skin.
Luke’s hands went from her hips to her breasts, squeezing them through the fabric of her shirt and letting out a low growl. “You made me want you so bad,” he purred. “Maybe I should punish you.”
A shock went through Shayla, straight to the heat between her thighs. “Go on then,” she said. “Punish me.”
He pulled back, staring down at her with a grin. “You don’t think I will?”
“I think we both want the same thing right now, and I’m not so chicken shit that I’m going to waste my time pretending to be demure. Unless that’s what you want.” She batted her eyes and bent her lips into a little bow. “Oh please, sir, I’m so innocent and terrified, whatever will I do if you are even the slightest bit harsh with me. I’m such a delicate little flower.”
He pressed a hand against the front of her jeans, cupping her sex in his big palm. The seam of her jeans was painful against her clit, the thin red panties doing nothing to cushion her, but as painful as it was, she wanted it, and more.
“Fuck,” he groaned. “I think you’re right, little one.”
He captured her mouth again and pulled her away from the wall, unzipping her jeans and thrusting his hand inside as he spun her and pressed her face against the door. Cold air teased her pussy as Luke pulled down her jeans and panties. She ached so fiercely, her whole body shaking at the thought of him entering her. Filling her. She heard his own zipper go down, and she shivered in anticipation. She was so much smaller than him, he had to lean way down, and she had to go way up on tiptoes to give him room to position the tip of his cock at the opening of her sex. Her thighs were already trembling when he pressed inside of her, barely waiting for her body to open to him, pushing her right to the edge of pain. She cried out, her body feeding on the hurt as much as it did the delight. He thrust only a handful of times before she broke open around him, crying and writhing on his cock as her pussy pulsed around him.
“Holy fuck,” Luke hissed, his breath hot on her ear.
As orgasms went, it hadn’t been the heavens opening experience she knew sometimes happened for her, but the sheer speed of its arrival made her hope for so much more. “Please,” she whispered, her voice thread. “More.” He groaned in her ear and bent his knees, positioning himself to pound into her, his hips anchoring her at the angle he wanted. The intensity of his arousal at seeing her climax so fast was clear, because soon he was tense behind her, a low moan ripping from his throat. He let out a soft sound as he came, his hands tight enough to leave bruises on her hips, and then he released her, slowly pulling out of her and letting her settle back down onto flat feet.
She turned to face him, and he leaned over her, pressing his cheek into the top of her head in a surprisingly sweet gesture. She found herself smiling. His hands were on her shoulders, gently stroking her body in a soft and reassuring gesture. She turned her face to the side, ready to kiss his hand when it touched her again.
And her eye caught something shiny.
“Is that…” Her words died in her throat. She already knew the answer. How had she not seen that sooner? What kind of reporter could she ever hope to be if she had missed the most crucial detail about the man she’d spent the last two days lusting over?
Luke was only just coming back to earth, and must not have heard her breathy question. Either that, or he didn’t know how to respond.
He did look genuinely surprised, though, when she turned around and shoved him off of her, hoisting up her pants and buttoning them with a dirty glare.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
Shayla opened the door, her knuckles white on the handle. “I don’t know,” she yelled, pointing at the ring on his left hand. “Why don’t you ask your fucking wife?”
Then Shayla slammed the door and was gone.
Chapter Twelve
Shayla practically lurched down Luke’s steps, digging her keys in her pocket and clutching them in a death grip.
She should have known. Goddamnit, how could Shayla have been so stupid? She’d always prided herself on her investigative skills, but what kind of reporter missed a goddamn wedding ring? Had he always been wearing it?
Obviously. He was probably that kind of dickhead—the kind who didn’t even bother to take it off. And he had probably congratulated himself the whole time he was wooing her. How hilarious he must have found it that he was able to trick her into thinking he actually cared, while he was wearing his wedding ring the whole time! The goddamn nerve of it.
The sound of the door being wrenched open behind her only made her walk faster, her feet pounding against the pavement as she all but ran toward her car.
“Shayla, wait!” Luke’s gravelly voice chased her into her driver’s seat, but she slammed the door and locked it despite his protests. “You don’t understand!”
Oh, she understood enough. She understood that she had fallen into the same trap that every goddamn person in the city had when that news story about him and the dumbass kitten had aired. Tough biker guy with adorable kitten—how sweet! He must have a big, soft heart underneath all those tattoos and muscles.
As. Fucking. If.
Shayla wrenched her key in the ignition and thrust the car into reverse, backing out of the driveway without so much as sparing a glance at the burly man who’d followed her out. At least he wasn’t pounding against her window. That would have really been pathetic.
What the hell was there to understand? That was what really pissed her off. Unless he was divorced, but his finger had swelled too much to remove his ring, and he had an appointment to have it cut off tomorrow, Shalya wasn’t interested. She wanted something real.
She should have listened to her instincts when they told her she would never have that with Luke.
Once she was zooming away down the street, the figure of Luke and his stupid house and stupid motorcycle disappearing in the rearview, Shayla let out a scream of frustration. A scream of mourning. Because she had liked Luke. She had felt something for him. Maybe it wasn’t love, but it had been the stirrings of something deep within her that had been dormant for a long time.
And now it was over, because there was nothing else that she could or would do with him.
Stupid. Goddamn. Men.
Shayla was glad it only took her a few minutes to get home. She didn’t much feel like driving, unless it meant crashing her car into every motorcycle she saw. It was probably better for her to be off the roads. And, to top it all off, she hadn’t arranged to have him on the station like Amy wanted. Not that she wanted him to be there now, but she had enjoyed the prospect of having a one up on the others at the station. For a minute, Luke had seemed like her ticket out of her internship and into a
proper career.
Shayla wondered whether this hiccup would simply put her back to where she started, or if it would send her a step back, too. Who even knew with the idiots at her station.
Shayla pulled into her driveway and stormed up the front steps, slamming the door behind her and locking herself inside the house. Nobody would find her here. At least not for another few hours, until she was expected at the station for work. She’d have to think up something to say to Amy in the meantime.
Shayla walked toward her bedroom, intent on crawling under the covers and trying to forget about today. She pulled out her phone to set an alarm, and saw that she’d missed several calls from Anthony. That was curious. He never called her. And, to be honest, she had hoped he never would. He was a slimy snake covered in goo, and she wanted nothing to do with him. She just hoped—prayed—that it was work related.
She checked her voicemail, and there was one new one. “Hey Shayla, this is Anthony Blake calling. Call me back. This is important.”
That sounded work related, at least. Unless he considered booty calls to be important. Shayla tapped his name to call him back, continuing her walk to her bed. He picked up just as she had settled down under the duvet.
“Anthony Blake speaking.”
“Hey, it’s Shayla.”
“Shayla, yes. Hi. Naomi will not be returning to the station this evening, and we want you to fill in on a trial basis until we can find a new anchor.”
Straight to business, it would seem. Shayla stifled a gasp and pursed her lips. “What happened to Naomi? Is she okay?”
Anthony let out an exasperated sigh. “She’s fine. It doesn’t matter. Make sure you’re at work a little early so we can have you properly made up. You looked too pale last time.”
Shayla scowled. Trust him to make good news sound like awful news. Not only was she still worried about Naomi, but he’d insulted her too. Why had the station ever hired this idiot in the first place? Surely there had to be someone just as capable of reading the news as him in Templeton. Maybe some hobo on the street. Anything could be better than Anthony Blake’s smug face.
“Well, thank you for the opportunity.” Shayla decided being grateful and polite would be a better response then telling him how she really felt. He’d been such a jerk to her last time, she really didn’t want to get on his nerves. It seemed like everything at the station went smoother if Anthony Blake was happy.
Click.
He’d hung up on her. What a jerk. Couldn’t even be bothered to waste his breath on a goodbye. Shayla wondered why Anthony wasn’t more upset about Naomi. They seemed like they were pretty close. Well, anytime Shayla had seen them together, Anthony looked to be doing his usual work of being the world’s biggest asshole, but he and Naomi spent a lot of time together. Naomi wasn’t an idiot, so if she didn’t want to be spending time with Anthony, then surely she wouldn’t have?
Anyway, all that was a problem for later. Right now, Shayla was only concerned with getting into her bed and napping away the few hours she had until work. At least if she was asleep she wouldn’t have to deal with the pain in her gut that was cutting through her like a knife.
Chapter Thirteen
Sweet serenity, however temporary, was only ever a bike ride away. And any windy absolution Luke received could only be temporary, because he had a helluva lot on his plate. Between a comatose teenager, a potential gang war, and a furious reporter, Luke had never been so busy. But he needed time to think. He needed space to think. He needed to think.
He should have gone after her. Luke regretted not doing so as soon as her car disappeared from his sight. But what would he tell her? Would she even believe the truth if he did? He wasn’t sure he believed it himself.
Luke grabbed his jacket and stomped down the front steps, slipping his arms into the sleeves and grabbing his helmet from the handlebar of the waiting Harley. He wished everything were as simple as this bike. It broke down sometimes, but with a little love and attention he could always make it run again.
And it never looked at him like Shayla had—like scum of the earth. Just thinking about that made Luke’s face wrinkle and his guts churn. She deserved so much better than any of his shit, but he wanted her anyway. He wanted her in a fierce way that he didn’t quite understand, but wasn’t willing to give up. Not yet.
Too bad he’d lost her.
Angrily slamming his foot down on the starter, Luke let the engine rumble beneath him for a few seconds before he began to slide out of the driveway. The wind skimmed over his face, and he closed his eyes for just one second before he peeled out onto the road—just long enough to let out a long, angry sigh.
Raven.
Luke wrenched the handle forward and tore off. How did it always come back to that scheming bitch? All he wanted to do was live his life as a free man, the way he had believed he would be able to. But she and her deranged family seemed determined not to let him.
Luke took an exit toward the highway, intent on losing himself on the wooded highway out of town. Maybe he could pretend that he wasn’t coming back, if only for a second. Too much rested on his presence in town, and he knew that he wouldn’t feel right again until he had somehow explained to Shayla that he wasn’t the complete asshole she thought him to be. Still, it was tempting.
If Luke no longer belonged to Templeton, then he no longer belonged to Raven. And what a blessing that would be. When Raven, the daughter of the head of the Reapers MC, had first approached him about the marriage, Luke hadn’t been too enthusiastic about it. But he’d lost three of his guys just that month from the violence between the two gangs, and Christ if it didn’t seem poetic. They eloped, and returned a married couple—though they agreed to leave each other alone. It was a marriage in name alone. At least, it was supposed to be.
She had been a firecracker of a girl. At first, Luke had actually considered pursuing her. It was an odd thing to think when she was technically his wife. She had long, inky black hair, just like her name implied. Her fierce gray eyes had seemed lit from behind with passion and intensity. It wasn’t long, though, before Luke had realized that light was only madness.
The dappled shade of the trees flashed across Luke’s face, and he pressed further into his seat and ground his teeth. He should’ve known from the start with her. She had insisted that they consummate their wedding vows, and it had seemed like a good idea at the time. Why not? She was beautiful, and she was his wife. He’d made sketchier choices in the past.
Except that from that moment on, Raven had owned him.
Luke turned right toward the ocean, smelling the distant twang of salt in the air even before he could see it. There was no more beautiful place in the world to live in, that he was sure of. The mountains, the ocean, the trees—they all worked together to create a rugged wilderness that could be contained but never truly tamed. That was what Luke felt like with Raven.
When Luke decided that he wanted to keep to the letter of the agreement—and not continue to see his wife romantically—she had been furious. But she, for all her crazy, was a woman of her word. She said that as long as he kept the ring on, Luke could continue to do as he liked.
Too bad her brothers didn’t feel the same.
Dax and Klyde were two of the toughest, meanest, dumbest sons of bitches that Luke had ever laid eyes on. In every way that Raven was refined and graceful, those two meatheads were equally ogrish and slow. They did everything together, which was good because Luke doubted that anyone else wanted to hang out with them. They were graced with top spots in the club hierarchy because of their father’s status, but Luke wondered how long that would last. Yet they continued to surprise him. Rather, the Reapers continued to surprise him. Because, no matter what, all the guys in the Reapers seemed to follow whatever Dax and Klyde said.
Luke gritted his teeth as he remembered how the two idiots had showed up at the news station last night as he’d been leaving with Shayla. The goddamn nerve of them. He’d had to slip his wedding ring
on in his pocket like a shady loser because their stoic display of dominance had been geared to remind him of his place, or rather the place they believed he should occupy. Dax and Klyde wanted him to be Raven’s husband in more than just name. The two meatheads wanted him to show her more respect. Probably to have a couple kids with her.
As if he wanted to pass on that kind of crazy.
A seagull crested over the horizon, and the smell of brine got stronger. The trees became sparser as he shot toward the edge of the forest, and Luke revved faster. The wind was doing nothing to take away his worries, like it normally did. Maybe if he didn’t have so goddamn many it would be a different story. He felt like an idiot for thinking that a bike ride would be enough to cool his head. He needed a distraction.
In the distance, Luke saw beach grass swaying in the breeze. Behind that he knew there would be tumbling waters and an endless swathe of sandy beach. Enough beach to get lost on. For most people, at least. Unfortunately for Luke, there would never be enough beach for him to get lost.
