Burning Ember Page 10

  I ever so slowly slip out of my chair to the floor between his legs.

  He spreads them wider to give me room. I start by rubbing my hands up and down his thighs three times. His thigh muscles bulge under my hands. Strong and sturdy. My movements are unhurried, testing his patience as I slide my hands to his belt.

  “Put your hands behind your back.”

  I pause and blink up at him, as an alarm goes off in my head.

  “Do it.”

  Cautiously, I circle them behind my back and cross them.

  With rapid movements, he unlatches his silver belt buckle. For a second, I recall all the things Warner could do with a belt. I cringe and fight to stay in the present.

  What if he ties me up?

  That thought sends an icy chill down my spine.

  He flicks the top button on his jeans open. He fingers the zipper and draws it down.

  I look up. “Mav?”

  I’m surprised by what I see. His jaw is clenched. His eyes are tightly shut. Even when I say his name, he doesn’t look down at me. His entire body is rigid. And he might just break the desk with the death grip he’s got on it.

  I don’t think he realizes I’m looking at him. That I can see how much he doesn’t want this. You’d think he’s waiting for a deadly blow, not a pleasurable one.

  “I don’t have all fuckin’ day,” he rasps out. “Get the fuck on with it. Or get out.”

  I lower my gaze to the opening in his jeans. He’s commando. His cock, at least from what I can see of it . . . is as beautiful as the man himself. The veiny ridge is in plain sight, but he’s still partially hidden behind his jeans. I don’t dare move my hands for fear he’ll tie me up if I do.

  I lean forward though. My breath’s heavy as both passion and anxiety roll through me. I contemplate the best way to release him from his jeans.

  Licking my lips, I can’t deny I’m a little curious to know what he tastes like.

  A shudder rolls through his body as my nose grazes his skin.

  I move forward and I’m about to lick up his length, when he growls and jumps off the desk, knocking me backward in the process. I fall into the chair behind me and crack my head on the corner of the arm. Fiery pain flares through my skull.

  I cradle my head in my hand as I hear, “Fuuucck! Fuck! Fuck!”

  He’s pacing, raking his hands back and forth over his head. Then down twice over his face. He groans.

  In one smooth swipe, he sends everything on the top shelf of a waist-high bookcase crashing to the floor.

  Holy shit.

  My heart stops and stutters before it starts beating again. I’m holding my breath. I want nothing more than to disappear. I’m all too familiar with this kind of rage. In mere seconds, he’ll turn on me. And physical pain will follow.

  His head snaps in my direction. His eyes are cold and deadly.

  I draw back as tremors run down my body. I hate that his furious stare stirs more than fear inside me. How can I be turned on and terrified of him at the same time? This is so wrong.

  He’s an enigma. The most beautiful man I’ve ever seen—and yet he’s the biggest, unapologetic asshole I’ve ever met.

  Why should I feel anything but contempt for him?

  After all, he’s a biker, a criminal, a drain on society. He hates me. I’m nothing and nobody to him. No, that’s not true. To him, I’m a dirty alley cat. Something to be used and thrown away. A snitch.

  The ironic thing is, it’s in his hands which of those things I become.

  Glaring down at me he yells, “Get the fuck out!”

  Yeah, gladly.

  I scramble up off the floor and dart toward the door. Just as I’m about to escape, his hand circles by bicep and I’m yanked off my feet. I stumble into a wall, which is actually his chest.

  He growls into my ear, “Not a fuckin’ word about this.”

  “I won’t.” My voice sounds small.

  “To no one. Not even Dozer.”

  I quickly nod.

  He releases me. Or more like shoves me toward the door.

  I flee from the room. I’m better off anywhere else in the clubhouse than in there with Luce who, at the moment, seems to be possessed.

  I yelp when I’m grabbed a second time in the hallway. My heart tries to leap out of my chest. It takes me a millisecond to comprehend it’s Lily.

  Her eyebrows are creased with worry and her face is slightly red. “Oh, my God, girl. What the hell was that about? Are you okay?”

  My heart’s still racing and my hands are shaking. Where my head connected with the chair stings.

  I whisper, “I’m okay. I’m okay.” However, I’m not sure if I’m trying to convince Lily or myself.

  It’s fine. You’re fine.

  I may not be unscathed, but I’m alive, breathing. I’ve faced the devil and bought myself another day.

  However, I’m a little terrified to see what tomorrow holds.

  Our eyes deceive us . . . our minds can be corrupted . . . but our hearts are forever truthful.

  MAVERICK

  If I stay in here any longer, one of my brothers will come looking for me, probably Taz. He’ll take one look at me, the mess I’ve made, and know something besides a mountain of work is keeping me from joining the party.

  I should get out there or get back to work and finish my overdue design. But I’ll be damned if I can think straight enough to put pencil to paper tonight. Most likely, I’ll fuck it up more than I’ll fix it.

  Sitting up, I lift my head out of my hands. I slump in my chair, defeated.

  In less than two hours, one girl has tilted my whole world on its axis and succeeded in stirring up a tornado of raw emotions inside me.

  Betrayal. Guilt. And a whole hell of a lot of pain.

  Maybe fate is fucking with me again. Setting me up at the most inopportune time, playing some sort of sick and twisted joke just to revel in my misery.

  I gave Dozer my word, Doll, Pumpkin, whatever the fuck her name is, could stay. Although what I really need is her gone. Out of my life. Out of this motherfucking clubhouse so I can rebury my past. Lock it back in the vault inside me where it belongs.

  I thought if I pushed her, scared her enough to make her run, she’d be halfway across the state by now. Back to her boyfriend. Back to her sweet little suburban life. But she surprised the hell out of me. With every test that I threw at her, she stood her ground, changed, adapted, and showed me she’s like a 3D puzzle showing different facets of herself every time you view her from a different angle.

  Each time I pushed, she pushed back. She called my bluff, and blew my whole fucking plan to pieces.

  She made me realize she’s not a docile rag doll after all; more like that smart-mouthed orphan. Or the tabby stray I called her out for at first glance.

  She even has a pair of claws on her. Literally. The girl left fucking marks on my skin. And her mouth may be tempting as sin to look at, dainty even, but she has a tongue like a whip when she decides to use it and not bite back her words.

  When I forced her against the wall, I expected her to break down. Freak out. Run out of here like the devil was on her heels.

  But did she?

  No. Not even when I searched her.

  If anything, she’d been turned on.

  Wet.

  I sit back in my chair, groan, and rub my hands over my face trying to suppress the memory of her reaction, and the way her slickness felt on my fingers. Smooth. Like the softest of silks. The recollection causes my skin to tighten all over.

  When I told her to suck me off, she didn’t back down and she didn’t cower. She didn’t tell me to fuck off and storm out of my office. No. She rose to the challenge, brought out her ChapStick, and taunted me with it before finally sinking down to her knees in front of me. Her cheeks were flushed and eyes dilated, which caused a surge of arousal to shoot straight to my cock, while a jolt of electricity flickered through each of my limbs. I’d been both fighting not to come like a pre-pub
escent boy, and struggling not to unleash the madness and bitter hatred I harbor for Dana on her.

  Because I knew if she touched me, I’d lose the battle and attack her. Fuck her or kill her. Both were possibilities.

  It’s why for the last half of a decade I’ve only indulged in a very strict brand of fucking. I touched the girls around the club enough to thrust to completion. No eye contact. No mouths. No hands roaming where they shouldn’t. Just simple. Rough. Fucking.

  That’s it.

  No way am I letting another bitch worm her way into my life and my club. And I’ll be damned if I’m going to let another redheaded stray soften me up for the staking a second time.

  My body’s response was merely my dick’s way of telling me it’s sick of the limited sexual diet it’s been on and needs more.

  Preferably from her.

  Jesus . . . now my brain’s throwing out traitorous thoughts.

  Fuucck.

  I need a distraction. A way to clear my head. A drink maybe. Some fresh air. For a second I consider finding a clubpiece. Draining some of this built up sexual tension might help. But the very idea makes my stomach roll.

  Stop being a pussy. She’s out there. And she will be for the next twelve fucking days. Man. The. Fuck. Up.

  I suck in a deep breath and hold it until I get to my feet.

  Twelve days is nothing. It’ll be over in a heartbeat. That’s all I need to remember.

  After opening my door, I make my way across the main room, wading through hang-arounds, old ladies, clubpieces and my brothers. I ignore the slutty women vying for my attention and push them one by one to the side as they come into my path.

  First things first, I need a drink.

  I nod to my brothers and get an occasional back pat. I just need to make an appearance and then I’m out of here.

  The music’s loud as hell. Pretty much everyone’s trashed. Bodie’s on the stage with a stripper and he’s all hands and mouth. He looks to be three sheets past the wind. The liquor’s evidently been flowing for a while. Half the women here have lost all sense of modesty, not that a lot of them had any to begin with. But my brothers look like they’re having a good time, so all’s good.

  At the bar, it takes about ten seconds for Lita to finish her other orders and notice me. She knows what I like, and soon enough, she pours me a JD and Coke. Light on the Coke. I toss it back and tap the bar. The first and second burn as they skate down my throat. But the third goes down smooth. Anymore and I won’t be steady enough to ride, so I flip over my glass and slide it back to her.

  Turning, I survey the room. My eyes bypass the circus going on before me and immediately find her. Her fiery mane easy to spot. Everyone and everything else are merely shades of gray. Where she stands out like a ruby in a coalmine.

  Is it me or is she standing right under a spot light?

  Because I can’t seem to pull my gaze away from her.

  It’s evident to anyone looking at her, she’s uncomfortable and doesn’t belong here. She’s fidgeting, biting her lip, and her gaze shifts to the floor every few seconds. A couple is having sex not six feet from her, and it looks like she’s doing her best to avoid looking in that direction.

  She’s standing behind the pool table, next to Lily and Goose. Dozer’s bent over, lining up a shot.

  A few seconds later, she brushes her hands up and down her arms as if she’s cold and fighting off a chill. Then she must sense my eyes burning into her from across the room, because she turns a bit and her eyes find me.

  Just like before in my office, there’s this unspoken dare to look away, though neither of us gives in to it.

  Her eyes are the color of robin eggs. And so much like the ocean I visited once when I was a kid. As they bore into me from across the room, my blood heats to a low simmer.

  Someone calls out to her and pulls her attention away.

  I follow her gaze to Dozer. He’s saying something to her as he circles the end of the pool table and walks up to her. My chest constricts as I observe their interactions and the smile she gives him.

  The permanent ache in my sternum screams a little louder than normal. For whatever reason, I suddenly can’t fucking breathe in here.

  She peeks over at me shyly for a split second and the ache cools a bit.

  When Dozer looks over too and finds me staring, he gives me a chin lift. I do the same. He hands off his pool cue to Doll and walks toward me.

  “Hey. We good?” he says as soon as he’s in front of me. With his body, he blocks her from my view, and it grates on my nerves a bit.

  “Yeah. We’re good. Twelve days and then we’ll see.” Of course, I don’t mean the last part. I want her gone at the end of the twelve days. My life would be a whole lot easier if she was already miles and miles from here.

  He nods. “Met with the Cap’s doctor. Surgery went good. He’s breathin’ on his own, but still out.”

  I slap my hand on his arm. “He’s gonna pull through this. Your dad’s one tough fuckin’ bird. He’d never let the reaper pull him down without a fight.”

  “Yeah.”

  “How’s Nick?”

  “Mom’s good. Sick of Whiz and Grinder followin’ her around, though. She hates that shit. Makes her feel like we’re babysittin’ her.”

  It’s my turn to smile, because I know how feisty Nick can be. She’s definitely earned the title of head bitch around here. I bet she’s making Whiz and Grinder fucking miserable.

  “Necessary. Cap would bury my ass if I didn’t have someone protecting her right now.”

  “She knows it. Doesn’t mean she’s not bitchin’ to high heaven though,” he replies.

  We both grin at that. “Listen. I’m out. Goin’ for a ride.”

  We bump knuckles. “Alright, man. Later.”

  I don’t know why I do it, but I watch him walk back to her. She looks up when he steps close and that same little smile of hers blooms over her mouth.

  Ah, fuck. That shouldn’t affect me. But it does, because my jaw’s tight as hell and my fists are looking at my brother like he’s my enemy and not my friend.

  I spin on my heel and head toward the front door, knowing exactly what I need. Some fresh fucking air, an empty road, and a silent one on one with the man in the moon.

  Before I can make my escape, Taz hollers, “Where the fuck you goin’?” He’s sitting on the couch with what looks to be Star between his legs, her head bobbing up and down on him, his hand tangled in her hair.

  “Out.” Under my breath, I mutter, “Need some air. Crowded as shit in here.”

  I hear a female cry of frustration and then boots stomping behind me. I keep going and push through the front doors of the clubhouse.

  As I amble over to my bike, Taz barks, “Hey. Hold the fuck up.” The words, as always, come out raspy.

  I throw my leg over my ride and grip the bars harder than necessary. Only then do I look at him. “What?”

  He’s in front of me, so I can’t take off without running him over. His brownish-black eyes are eerily calm as he studies me. “What’s up?”

  His dark, semi-mohawked hair is sticking out everywhere as if he’s run his hands through it a million times. The tattoos on his face appear to be black out here, even under the lights of the courtyard, though they’re really a dark blue. Taz is a big guy like D, but not because he wants people to be impressed. No. He gets off on being intimidating. When the opportunity presents itself, he loves to scare uppity old ladies, and mouth-gawking little kids. There’s no denying, he’s a bit off kilter. But you can’t do what he does for the club without it taking its toll.

  I’m sure he can tell my head’s all fucked up. The cocksucker’s got a sixth sense about shit like that.

  I shake my head. “Nothin’. Go party. Just goin’ for a ride.”

  He clears his throat but his words still come out hoarse. They always do. “Want company?”

  When Edge was sent away, Taz happened to be his first cellmate. Three days in, Edge g
ot in a tussle with a few 13Ds. This was before our truce. Somewhere in the middle of it, Taz jumped in trying to even the odds. He was stabbed and had his throat stomped on, but eventually the guards showed up and they both lived to tell the story. Needless to say, he earned Edge’s loyalty, and when he got out, Edge told him to look up the club.

  I give him a hard stare. “No.”

  Flashing me a wide cocky smile, he grates out, “Too goddamn bad.”

  I shake my head.

  There’s a good reason it only took him five months to earn his patch. The guy’s loyal as fuck. Self-sacrificing. And he’s always willing to do the dirty work the club needs done.

  He hops on his bike. I start Eve, my ride, and pull her out of the lot with Taz right behind me.

  The night is warm. The slightly cool air rushes up to meet me and feels incredible as it skates over my face and arms, sneaks under my cut, taking my body heat down a notch. The smell of sage surrounds me and I draw it into my lungs as I gun the throttle.

  Then a hundred feet down the road, I let off as I see a patrol car sitting, idling.

  For a few seconds, my gaze locks with Officer Davis’.

  What the fuck is he doing here?

  The question adds another concern to the mountain I’ve got piling up inside my mind. But after a minute, I tell myself to store that shit away and think about it later. I have more important shit to think through on this ride. And I’m not wasting any of this road on Deputy Dipshit.

  No. First, I need to find a way to scrub angular cheekbones, sun-swollen lips, and a small freckled nose from my mind. And stop images of her cinnamon-dotted skin, ruby red hair, and toned calves from popping up into my head like fucking billboards.

  I clench my fists around my bars as my cock swells.

  Out here, where it’s just Eve and me, I can be honest with myself. I lied to D. That girl isn’t plain. And she’s not just Edge’s type . . . she’s mine. Hell . . . she’s every man’s type, especially, when she’s all done up like she is tonight.