Inflamed: A Shadow Riders MC

by Kiki Leach

  "You're so fuckin' sure?"

  "I'm so very 'fucking sure'." She took in a deep breath and slowly released it. His eyes went from her hers, down to her mouth and dipped to the side of her throat where he watched her pulse beating erratically in rhythm. That shit was beating just for him and he fucking knew it. Shit. Just the thought of dragging his mouth across it, and the sensation of his tongue on her skin as she shattered beneath him made his cock stiffer than a goddamn bag of concrete. "I'm going to bed now," she told him. "Maybe try and erase what happened tonight with Eightball from my mind as much as I can." She stood up from the couch and stepped closer to him and as he stared back up into her eyes, all he could see was the chance at that better life continuing to pass him by.

  She reached out for his face and brushed the salt and pepper whiskers along his strong and sturdy jawline with the back of her fingers; softly, slowly, the feeling of it making her feel warm in places she hadn’t felt come alive in years. Unwillingly, River’s eyes closed and his nostrils flared, and he turned his head, forcing her fingers to brush between the slight opening of his mouth. The tip of his tongue met her flesh and as he blew on her skin, they both felt something then, at the exact same motherfucking time, and he knew it. He fucking knew it and he ached for that shit more than he was ever willing to admit to even himself.

  "Goodnight, River," she said, her soft voice still weak but now heavy with lust. "Thank you."

  His eyes flew open and as he refocused his vision, he stared back up into her face. Her eyes said she wanted to fuck him; she wanted to fuck him good and slow, and hard and all goddamn night long. They told him she was into the leave scratches on his back, scream out his name until she went hoarse, roll her eyes into the back of her head and go blind kind of fucking that could make even a resilient motherfucker like him sob from satisfaction. Her body needed that kind of pleasure from him just as much as he desperately needed it from her, and he could feel that shit, right down to the tip of his goddamn cock, he could feel it. Had she been anyone else, any other bitch at all, he would've taken her back to his bedroom right then and there, placed her flat on her back and given her every fucking thing she desired from him and then some. But this bitch was different, and he knew that shit. It made her both absolutely fascinating to him and a big ass, motherfucking pain in the goddamn ass all at once.

  "Night," he finally told her through a grunt.

  She dropped her hand from his face down to his shoulder and moved around the couch. He whipped his head around, watching as she left the room and paced down the hall back to her bedroom. And once she was gone, he sat back and rubbed two fingers down either side of his face and exhaled.

  "Jesus. Fuckin'. Christ."

  If there was any other word for screwed at the moment, this son of a bitch was most definitely it.

  Chapter Thirty

  Morning had come almost too quickly for me, which was more than likely a symptom of having barely gotten any sleep from the mess of the night before. Though the cognac had admittedly helped to calm my nerves and lessen any and all anxiety I had had regarding what I had done to Eightball, it sure as hell didn't seem to do all that much to help relax my brain, which had been spinning in circles regarding River from the time I had left him alone in the living room, to the time I first opened my eyes before the sun even came up.

  All I could seem to think about in between all of that time was what he had said to me as we sat together on the couch, how he said it, and even more importantly, how I felt when he did -- good, bad, sad, angry, and more than anything else, heavily, heavily aroused. I felt as if my body was actually going to catch on fire after he told me what he had thought about doing to me after seeing me again. But finishing it all off by mentioning that in spite of it all, I wasn't exactly his type of woman hurt like hell in a way I didn't think it would in actually hearing those words from him out loud. But I think knowing that he was full of absolute shit the moment they came out, given that they sounded more like a shield to use against me, and even himself regarding how he truly felt, made them hurt even worse.

  "Morning."

  I turned to Jolene just as she walked into the kitchen and headed over to the sink. "Hi," I told her. I reached out for the only thing I could manage to get down that morning, a glass of ice water, and sat back in my chair after taking a sip. When I heard Jolene humming to herself while making a cup of coffee, I grinned. "You seem to be in a bright and shiny mood this morning."

  "I was," she said, spinning back around to me and leaning against the counter. "At least until I got home a few hours ago, and River asked me what kind of bleach I used to clean the blood stains from his clothes that resulted from his MMA matches, and when he would get into fights with other prospects just before officially joining the club."

  "River was an MMA fighter before he joined the club?" I asked her.

  "Don't change the subject." She moved over to the table and sat down across from me. I placed my glass back down onto the table and pushed it aside. "He told me about what happened with you and Eightball last night," she said. "Said that you shot him in the head with his own goddamn gun--"

  "I didn't have much of a choice in that," I interjected.

  "I'm not saying you did, honey. Mainly, I'm just shocked as hell, that's all. But I guess we've all had to shoot a crazy stupid man at one point or another in our lives, and he was yours. River said he was the first one you called after it happened?"

  I sat up and nodded. "He was the only person I called..." I tucked my hair behind my ears and stared down at the table. "He was the only person I even thought to call."

  "Because what happened took place inside his house?” she said. "Or because you knew that he would be the only one to take care of things the way you needed them to be taken care of?" I turned my eyes back up to her and suddenly, out of nowhere, burst into tears. "Oh, honey." She got up from her chair as quickly as she could and raced around the table to put her arms around me. As I brought my hands up to my face and began to sob almost uncontrollably, she pulled me into her chest so tightly that I could hardly breathe, and brushed a hand across the top of my head while shushing me. "This is about more than just what happened last night with you and Eightball, isn't it?"

  "No," I blurted.

  She pulled back from me and looked down into my face, then brushed my hair out of my eyes and smiled in complete disbelief at what I had said. She pat the side of my face, then pulled her chair around to the other side of the table and sat down next to me.

  I brought my hand up to wipe my face of tears and rested my elbow on the table. I took a few deep breaths in, and then let them out slowly to calm myself down, though it wasn't exactly working out as well as I had hoped.

  "What's going on?" she asked me.

  "I don't know." I gulped. "It just feels like everything has been building up over the last month and a half or so, and I'm on the verge of exploding from it all," I answered. "I think last night just kind of brought everything into perspective for me."

  "Brought into perspective your feelings about River?" she asked me. "Or his feelings about you?" I looked over at her, but didn't answer. "Honey, I can see how you feel about my son. The shit's been written all over your face and in your body language since the first time I met you. I can see it written all over him too."

  I pressed the back of my hand against my mouth and sat back. "He admitted to me last night in so many words that he was attracted to me, but then he followed it up by saying that I wasn't exactly his 'type' of woman," I told her. I glanced at her from the corner of my eye, and she frowned. "I know what he meant by that, and a giant part of me doesn't even really buy it for various reasons, but.... I guess I'm just not clear as to why he would even say something like that to begin with."

  "I think I might be." She folded her hands together and placed them beneath her chin. "I know that he told you about Wolf being the one to find me on the side of the road," she said. "And that he told you exactly why I was there. But d
id he ever mention anything to you about who the men were that attacked me?"

  I shook my head. "He made it seem as if he didn't know."

  "He didn't know who they were, not exactly, but when he found out..." She stopped and turned her eyes away from me. "The two men that attacked me were black," she finally said. "As a result, he built up a bias inside his head against--"

  "People who look like me," I responded. She remained silent and lowered her head. And that's when it hit me like a pile of bricks. "Oh.... Oh." Silence engulfed the room once my brain started putting the pieces together and I stared across at the blank white wall on the other side. "Do you know that my dad is a preacher?" I asked her.

  "River mentioned it a few times; about how you once compared the church at the club to his."

  "Yeah, it was something like that," I said. "When I was around eight years old, he took me into his office at the church one day, and we found a brick sitting on his desk that had been thrown through the window by members of the Ku Klux Klan. The brick had a handwritten note attached to it that said something like, 'go back to where the fuck it is that you came from, niggers'. And they did this because his church, which was a predominately black church, just so happened to be located in an all-white neighborhood." I sat back, remembering. "I asked him why somebody would do that. Why somebody would come to a place that's supposed to be holy and viewed as a place of worship, to be evil. And he told me that there didn't always need to be rhyme or reason behind the fundamentals of racism for some. There were those who felt superior and believed that others not like them weren’t deserving of it; which in turn forced them to do things to suppress their growth as people…. I kept that thought with me as I got older. And even after they came back and eventually bombed his church, which is what forced us to move from Mainville to Tampa and encouraged him to build another church from the ground up, he never showed them or anyone else like them any ill will, never proposed hate. And he never told me that this is how white people are, in general, so be wary of them."

  "I never taught River to believe--"

  "I know," I told her. “I never said that you did, I just…” I crossed my arms over my chest and bent forward. "My point is that I don't think that he looks at me and sees those men who attacked you, just like I don't see members of the Klan when I look at him. I don't doubt that he felt that way at one point in his life, and that he felt it when he first found me out there eight years ago. But there's no way in hell I believe it now, no matter how many times he tries to tell me otherwise."

  "Then why the tears?" she asked. "If you're just as certain as I am about how he feels?"

  "Because I'm afraid that if he continues to use that as a defense against me, as a way to keep that giant cage around his heart, then he might actually start to believe it again. And then where the hell does that leave me? Where the hell does that leave us and what we could be together?"

  She bobbed her head, then shifted her eyes up and behind me. And when I turned around, I saw River standing in the doorway of the kitchen with his hands thrown up over the frame and staring down at us. "Mornin'," he said.

  Jolene glanced back at me before getting up from the table and stepping back over to the sink. "Morning, River."

  He nodded at his mother, then made his way around the table and focused in on me. I turned my eyes up to his and even then could see right inside of those steel blues how much he wanted me. It made me want to smack the taste out of his mouth and jump all over him all at once. "How'd the hell you sleep last night?" he asked me.

  "Fine," I told him. "I'm a little tired because I didn't get as much as I would've liked, but--"

  "Then you might wanna sleep up at some point durin' the day, doll, 'cause you won't be gettin' much of it tonight again either."

  "Why is that?"

  "I'm plannin' a party at the club later, and I'm gonna need you there with me." He turned to his mother. "You too."

  She spun back around to him and glared. "What the hell is this about, River?" she asked him, her voice piqued yet annoyed all at once.

  "I had alota time to think last night after you went off to bed," he said, gesturing over to me, "and before you came home." He pointed at Jolene. "And I realized just how fuckin' much we're gonna need to keep shit as normal as possible at the club 'til I can figure out just what the fuck to tell the rest of those assholes about Eightball. A pussy party is the only way to keep their minds off askin' a shit load of questions. That said, this one's gonna be a bit different since club whores won't be invited."

  "I'm not going," responded Jolene. "You know how much I've always hated being around that shit, River. Club whores or not, I'd sooner dig out my own eyes with a spoon."

  "LOOK!" he snapped, staring between us. "We need to keep shit around here as normal as goddamn possible like I just fuckin' said. It's gonna be old ladies, wives and club bitches tonight; no club whores, no rookies, no free pussy runnin' around and lookin' to get fucked."

  "Which means no Courtney," I mumbled. He stared down at me and made a face.

  "Well I'm none of the above," hollered out Jolene. “And I’m still not going.”

  "Mother, goddamnit." River brought his hands up to his face and slowly dragged his fingers down either side of it in frustration. "I'm not askin' just for me, I'm askin' this shit for Mia too."

  She exhaled deeply and stared me straight in the face before moving back over to her son. "If it's old ladies and wives, that means Verna's gonna be there."

  "Of course she's gonna fuckin' be there," he said. "She's helpin' me set this whole thing up." He leaned against the fridge and tilted his head. "What the fuck has been up with you two lately, huh? You been blowin' up at each other like a goddamn pair of powder kegs for the last few weeks and the shit's gotten outta hand--"

  "It's nowhere near where it could be," she told him. "Besides, things have always been complicated as hell between us, you know that. Not much has changed about that now."

  "A lot’s changed," he snapped back. "The shit's gotten worse, which is my entire goddamn point. What the fuck is the deal?"

  "There is no deal, alright?!" she shot back. "You want me to be at this thing tonight and play along, fine, I'll be there for Mia with bells on. Just keep that old woman the hell away from me, and we'll be good." She shoved her way past him and headed out of the kitchen.

  "Jesus," he muttered, watching as she stomped back through the living room like a child. I hopped up from the chair and wrapped my arms around myself. He turned back to me and pushed himself away from the fridge.

  "So if I'm with you tonight," I said, "as... whatever the hell we are, then I guess I'll call Meghan and tell her that Avery can stay another night. She'll enjoy that."

  "Yeah, I'll call Madison and tell her she can spend another night with Lily as part of her goin’ away gift or some shit." He turned from me, but I reached out for his wrist. Slowly, his head whipped back around and he stared down at my hand; suddenly the heat that I felt last night coursed throughout my body all over again. Except it was somewhat stronger this time, making me boil from the inside out.

  "I know that you don't want to keep hearing it, but--"

  "Doll," he started. My hand tightened around him and he closed his eyes. "Shit."

  "Did you, um..." I stopped to clear my throat. "Did you think any more about what we talked about last night? About what you said to me?"

  "I remember sayin’ alota shit to you, babe. You might need to be more specific about what."

  "The part about me not being your 'type'," I said. "I don't think you really believe that."

  "No?"

  "No. I think that you might want to believe it, and for a bunch of stupid different reasons you’re trying to force yourself into believing it, but I don't think that you really do." I stepped closer to him and wrapped both of my hands around his. I could see in his face that he was trying hard as hell to resist me, but in no way, shape or form had he attempted to pull away. "Anyone who says what you did
to me last night can't possibly feel how he claims to. It's contradictory at best."

  "I never said I was a simple motherfucker," he told me.

  "And I don't ever want you to be. But just because you're not 'simple' doesn't mean you can't be honest. And what you said to me last night about that, wasn’t."

  I released his hand, though he seemed somewhat reluctant to let me go, and took a step back. And I stared up into his eyes again as he stared down into mine. And God, I'm not even sure how long we stood staring at each other, unmoving and just breathing and taking each other in, but it was worth every wasted minute.

  "Anyway, I should go and call Meghan," I finally told him.

  He broke eye contact with me and nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, take care of that shit, doll."

  After leaving him alone in the kitchen, I rushed back into my bedroom and closed the door. And I leaned back against it and slid straight down to the floor. There was no way in hell I was going to continue to allow that man to get away with lying to me or himself about how he felt. Not with the way he looked at me, spoke to me, even stood near me so close that I could feel his breath coating every part of my skin; not when I knew that we could be so much better together rather than apart.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Around seven-thirty that night, I arrived at the overly crowded, smoke and booze filled clubhouse with a reluctant and pissed off Jolene at my side. Before even making it in and shoving our way pasts 'club bitches' and members from the Orlando and Miami charters of the club, she had grumbled in my ear about having to cancel a date with her 'banker friend', and mentioned more than a few times once we were finally able to move past at least some of the smoke filling the room that she was planning to bail out at some point, hoping that River would be too distracted with keeping the boys occupied and their minds off of Eightball to notice that she was even missing.