by Evelyn Glass
His words deflated her, like a pinprick against a balloon. “Ugh. Whatever.” She crumpled onto the bed, resting her head in her hands. “I’m just upset.”
“I know.” Butch’s boots clunked against the floor as he came inside the room. The bed squeaked a little as he sat on the bed next to her. “But it’s best to be out of the state while your dad and them smooth this out.”
She blinked, heat prickling through her. Out of the state? His nearness was clouding her, making it hard to focus. Heat rolled off of him in waves, reminding her of what she’d started in the diner. Before everything went to shit. “Where are we going out of state?”
“You’ll see when we get there.” He nudged her. “Let’s call it an adventure.”
She smiled in spite of the situation. At least he was trying to make her feel better. “Fine. I need to pack.”
“You need help?”
She preferred to organize her clothes her own way, but she wouldn’t pass up this chance to see Butch folding girly stuff. “Yeah. Start there.” She pointed to a dresser in the corner, where all her lingerie was. “Top drawer.”
Butch stood and scuffed over to the dresser. He yanked open the top drawer and stared inside for a dumbfounded moment. “So…what do you need from in here?”
She bit back a grin as she thumbed through dresses in her closet. “There should be a black and a pink bra set, grab those.”
Butch cleared his throat, rifling through the drawer. She could barely fight the giggle threatening to escape. He turned a moment later, pink and black panties dangling from his grip. “These?”
She nodded toward the suitcase. “Just toss them in there. And grab the bras, too.”
His jaw flexed as he tossed her panties in the suitcase. Then he went back to the drawer, producing the matching bras a moment later. “Anything else?”
She wracked her brain for something slightly more provocative. But how could she justify taking a garter belt with her while skipping town? “Um, just grab a couple more pairs of underwear. Whatever you like.”
He sighed, returning to the dresser. “I should have known better than to ask to help.”
She giggled, tugging a few dresses and shirts out of her closet. She added them to the suitcase, and then did a final sweet of her dresser for basics, like leggings and loose tops. “Your help was much appreciated.”
He gave her a flat look as she zipped up the suitcase. When it was closed up, she grinned at him. “All set.”
He grabbed at the handle, lifting it easily, and led the way out of the room. She followed him, shutting the door behind her. As they walked through the clubhouse, questions flooded her mind, the same way they did every time before a trip: what was she forgetting? Phone charger? Had she packed enough socks, undies?
Except this time, she wasn’t even sure what to plan for. Didn’t even have a destination laid out for her.
In the den, her daddy waited for them. He scooped Gidget into a hug and then squeezed Butch’s shoulder. "Be safe. And get out of town as fast as you can.”
“Will do.”
“We’ll call as soon as we have an update,” her dad said, looking at her directly. “Don’t worry honey. This is to keep you safe. You’ll be home before you know it.”
“I hope so. I have a job to think about, you know.” She sighed, relaxing into her father’s hug.
“We’ll take care of that—”
“No.” She shook her head. “I’ll call my boss, ask for a personal leave. Let me try to handle it first.”
“Okay, honey.” Her dad kissed the top of her head. “Now get out of here. I’ll see you soon.”
Butch headed for the door, her suitcase in hand, and she followed behind him, a strange tug at her heart. This felt sort of like being exiled, except she hadn’t done anything wrong. Just the wrong guys had set their sights on her. What had seemed like an innocent rebuff at the bar all those weeks ago had now blossomed into this unimaginable shit storm. Biker clubs sometimes used any excuse to wage war, and the Skulls were the worst at it.
Outside, humidity wrung the air damp and heavy. Butch strapped her suitcase on the back of his bike and climbed on top. She slid into place behind him, tugging her helmet on tight.
“You ready?” Butch looked back at her, releasing the kickstand.
She slid her arms around his waist, loving his sturdiness. He was built like a tree trunk. “Not like I have a choice, I guess.”
“Come on. It’s an adventure, remember?”
She smirked as he pushed the bike backwards. “You seem awfully excited for this trip.”
“Maybe I have reason to be.”
His suggestive tone sent fireworks through her, curiosity goosepimpling her forearms. It would be an adventure for sure, and the only reason she would tolerate it was because Butch would be at the helm.
In fact, Butch made her excited to see what lay ahead. Because as far as she could see, the only positive would be the chance to get him alone, away from prying eyes. Maybe he would finally crack, and they could give into the latent passion that had been burbling between them since day one.
She squeezed her arms tighter around him, a grin cresting her lips. Yes, that possibility made her very excited. And that was the only outcome worth the inconvenience of a surprise displacement and possibly losing her job.
Because by this point, the only thing invading her fantasies was Butch. How their kisses would taste, salty hot and lingering. What he’d look like fully naked before her, pure sculpted muscle. The way he’d handle her, rough but maybe also tender. And then the most important part of all—the heat and hardness of him inside her, pushing her to a climax she could already taste from want of it.
She’d been pushing herself to orgasm with her own fingers for too long.
Now, it was Butch’s turn. And somewhere deep inside, she knew he was ready to take the leap too.
CHAPTER TEN
Butch slowed the bike once he crossed the city limits, not because the speed limit sign told him to, but because he wanted to take it all in.
He hadn’t been back here in over a decade, yet he knew the layout of this place like the back of his hand. His chest tightened as he passed the familiar storage unit facilities lining the outskirts of the city, the dreary, far-flung buildings a nostalgic gateway more than anything. The fast food signs lit up the sides of the highway in the darkness of night, but he could have navigated this whole place with his eyes closed.
Gidget shifted behind him. They’d only stopped once to pee, and he thought she’d probably fallen asleep at one point.
“We here?”
“Almost.” They were still in Bossier City, until they crossed the Red River into Shreveport. And then he could finally take a breath and say he was home. All they had to do was pick a motel, any one would do, but he wanted to do a quick spin of the city first. Head over his favorite part of Shreveport, I-220 southbound heading over Cross Lake.
When they hit the bridge he gunned it, smiling as the cool night air flooded him, filling up his lungs, soothing him in a way only bodies of water could. The lights lining the highway twinkled and blurred as they sped through the night. This, if anything, had the power to cleanse.
After his nostalgic spin was over, he headed back toward the city center. He pulled into a decent-looking motel not too far from the center, nestled among other larger hotels and businesses. His childhood home—or maybe what was left of it, if it hadn’t been condemned by now—had been only a couple blocks from here.
When the bike cut off, Gidget squeezed his sides. “So this is our new home, huh?”
He grinned, waiting for her to slide off before he dismounted. If only she knew it actually was his home. At least until he’d started the never-ending cycle of foster homes, and then juvenile detention, which led him further and further from his birthplace. The last time he’d been in town was for his mother’s final days and then her funeral, ten years ago. It had been one of few good memories they shared.
<
br /> “Let’s go check in.” He left his helmet on the seat and grabbed Gidget’s hand. She stiffened, probably as surprised as he was by the rare intimate gesture. He cursed himself—this was the byproduct of feeling relaxed and even giddy about their surprise stay in Shreveport. She held onto his hand though, falling into step beside him with a cautious smile on her face.
Inside the dimly-lit reception area, Butch handed over his license and enough cash to get the ball rolling. “Give us a room that we can stay in for at least a week to start.”
The bald man behind the counter and while he worked at his computer, Butch and Gidget shared a secretive smile. There was no denying it. This was even a little fun for him. Maybe the closest thing to a vacation as he’d ever come to. And club-sponsored, no less. Because Geo spared no expense when it came to making sure his daughter stayed out of harm’s way. Butch’s satchel was lined with hundred-dollar bills, and enough guns to make sure they could face down any harm that might come their way.
Once the bald-headed clerk slid a room key his way, Butch smiled wide which surprised even him. “Thank you, sir.” He grabbed Gidget’s hand and led them back toward the bike.
“Well you sure are in a happy mood tonight.” The way she looked at him felt like maybe she was seeing him for the first time. Someone new she had to re-learn. And maybe that’s how he felt tonight. Rejuvenated in a way that he’d been needing without even knowing. And she’d never seen this side of him. No one had.
“It’s nice to get out of Sturgis once in a while.” He grabbed their things off the bike and then strutted toward room 302. “If we pretend hard enough, this is almost a vacation.”
She laughed as he opened the motel room door. “I believe it if you do.”
The door swung open, revealing a plain room with one queen bed in the center. A flat-screen TV faced the bed over a low dresser, and at the far end their nodding reflections shone back at them in a wall mirror.
“Not so bad.” Gidget shut the door behind them, smoothing her hand over the bedspread. “And just one bed.”
Butch swallowed hard. He hadn’t thought to ask about the bed count. And of course the clerk would have assumed they were together.
“I’ll get us a room with two beds—” he began.
“No. This is fine.” She wiggled her eyebrows at him as she sat on the edge of the bed, bouncing lightly up and down.
“We’ll stick to our sides then,” he said wryly, setting their bags down by the dresser.
“Whatever you say.” Her tone told him she didn’t believe him for a second.
They watched each other for a few moments; the air conditioner whirring to life was the only sound. Butch rubbed at the back of his neck, feeling the proposition hanging in the air. Her unspoken invitation.
And his body was responding, exactly the way it had been responding for weeks. Desire pumped through him, disguised as blood, filling every last bit of him with raw need for this woman. Coming here was a mistake. Only because there was no way he’d be able to resist her. Not when she looked at him with those doe eyes laced with sin, biting her bottom lip in just the way that made his heart skip a beat.
“You tired?” He reached for the bag he’d tossed to the ground, more as a way to distract himself, occupy his hands. Anything to stave off the inevitable. Once he gave into this desire…there was no turning back. Maybe he could be strong. Maybe he could just say no.
But you could say yes, too.
He knit his brows as he rummaged through his bag. He didn’t need a damn thing in here. He just needed to cool his thoughts. If he fucked Gidget…it wouldn’t be a one-time thing. Hell, nowhere near. How could it be? It could only be explosive with her. Addictive. Possibly life-changing.
But doing that might jeopardize his standing with the club. Certainly wouldn’t win him any brownie points with Geo. And where would that leave him?
He needed this club. More than he wanted to ever admit.
“You gonna take a shower?” Gidget’s voice appeared hot at his ear.
He stiffened. Just stay away from her. “Soon. You?”
“Yeah, but I was hoping you’d join me.” She slid her fingertips over the bulge of his bicep. He steeled himself.
“Gidget. Don’t start.”
“You don’t want to pick up where we left off in the diner?”
Butch let a puff of air past his lips. “We shouldn’t. And you know it.”
“Why not?” She stepped forward, eyes ablaze. “There’s no fucking reason not to, Butch. I know you want me. And I want you. More than I can even fucking explain.”
Her words warmed and scared him in equal measure. There was something intolerable about being wanted by someone like her. It could only lead to dark places. And he’d had enough of that in his life. Because Gidget was the type of girl he would fall for. It wasn’t even a question. He’d take her once and want her a million more times. She stirred him in a way he was scared to explore. A way that would be better off left alone, ignored, so it could shrivel back up into its dark spot inside his heart.
“It doesn’t matter what we want. We should do what’s right. I’m not fucking my president’s daughter.”
He brushed past her, knocking her shoulder in the process. She gaped after him, her confusion weighing in the air.
“I’m more than just his daughter, you know.” Her voice came out clipped. “I’m also my own fucking woman. I’m an entrepreneur. A creative. I’m fun. I’m not someone to be avoided.”
“Yeah, well, it’s better that we don’t get to know each other like that. Gotta stick to the arrangement.” He scrubbed at his face, trying to convince himself of his own words.
Gidget scoffed, her derision plain. “It’s a little too late for that, Butch. We already know each other like that.”
He smirked, looking back at her. She stood with her hands on her hips, her eyes icy. “You don’t know me.”
Her mouth thinned to a frightening line. “You think I don’t know you? Really?” Her tone made his belly twist. “I know you better than probably anyone in the club. I’m with you every day. I see what you eat, I see the way you pace in the early morning because you can’t sleep, I see you try to drink whiskey each night to fall asleep, I see you make that same shitty cup of coffee every morning with no creamer. I see the way you act like you don’t care about what you eat but you secretly take every suggestion I’ve ever given you about food. Like how you eat bananas for breakfast now. Good job, by the way. I see the way you stay stone-face and aloof, but really you’re listening and observing every single fucking thing around you, and that’s probably one of the reasons why you can’t sleep. And you know what else?” She paused, taking a breath, her voice almost hysterical. “You’re from Shreveport. I know because of the way I feel you. I can feel you even when you’re not around me. And the way you lit up when we came here told me everything I needed to know.”
She flopped onto the bed, arms crossed over her heaving chest. “So don’t act like I don’t know you. I could write a fucking book by now.” She glared at him, as if daring him to speak. He curled his hands into fists, unsure what to say, how to even address the tumult of emotion inside his chest.
So she had him pegged. He could give her credit for being observant. But this wasn’t what he needed to hear. This wasn’t helping keep her at an arm’s length. Besides, there was enough about him that she didn’t know, because he didn’t tell anybody.
“It’s a book nobody will read,” he spat, turning back to his bag. This time, he needed the whiskey he’d brought along. One of the only essentials for any trip anywhere. “So congratu-fucking-lations, you’ve taken notes. It doesn’t mean anything. Go take your fucking shower.”
The silence behind him scared him for a moment before he heard her rustling in a bag. The bathroom door slammed and then his body went loose. He hadn’t even realized he’d been tense as a hunting dog. He rubbed at his head, staring at himself in the mirror for a moment.
What
a fun getaway trip this will be. Caught because a rock and a sexually frustrated place. They’d either kill each other or fuck—one or the other was bound to happen soon. And the way his cock remained at half-mast in his jeans didn’t bode well for the former.
He snatched the bottle of whiskey from his bag and headed to the leather chair in the corner by a small table. He sank into the plush seat, turning on the television to anything. The low murmur of a weather forecast soothed him somehow. But as soon as the water sprang to life in the bathroom, his thighs tensed.
Gidget’s naked in there. He squeezed his eyes shut, ignoring the images of what her lithe, tan body would look like under a warm stream of water. Her blonde hair, plastered to her neck as she rubbed soap all over those round, luscious tits. The V of her legs, framed with some hair—he imagined that she trimmed—those sexy, toned thighs spreading to let a hand slip between. Shivers raced up his spine. Jesus, the things he’d do to her. And she’d let him—of course she would. She’d take it all and ask for more.
