Burning Ember Page 9

  He appears to be high on life in each photo. Like nothing and nobody can touch him.

  “What happened, Mav? You look so happy?” The simple questions escape my mouth in a breathy whisper.

  Hands push me from behind. I crash forward into the wall. My face hits it a split second before my hands can brace me for the impact. Adrenaline coils through my body and my heart rate spikes. I’m so close to the oil smudges now I could lick them.

  I knew turning my back on the rabid wolf behind me was a bad idea.

  “W-what . . . what are you doing?” I stammer out. Using the wall for leverage, I attempt to push back from it. But he presses his hand between my shoulder blades and holds me where I am.

  He kicks my legs apart. His breath tickles my ear as he grates out, “Don’t worry, Doll. This will be over before you know it.”

  And suddenly, I can’t breathe. My skin feels tight all over. Possible scenarios of what he’s about to do to me flash through my mind. Without warning, calloused fingers and a palm skate across my belly, slip under the top of my shorts.

  Oh, dear God, almighty.

  I gasp as every muscle in my body goes tense. Flurries of pleasure burst from where his hand touches me skin to skin.

  His touch is different from Warner’s. There’s not only an undercurrent of fear rolling around inside me . . . no . . . there’s an undercurrent of fear and need. It’s new. Tantalizing. And I’m surprisingly hungry for more.

  His hand stills on my stomach. “Not what you’re thinkin’. There ain’t nothin’ you got that I want.”

  Twisting my neck, I try to look over my shoulder, to see if I can tell if he’s telling me the truth. But it’s impossible to see his face like this.

  “Just hold the fuck still while I check you.”

  “Check me?” My voice comes out higher than usual.

  “For a wire. Drugs.”

  “I’m not an idiot,” I whisper. “I’m not here to spy on you.” Not yet. Not if I don’t have to. “And I’ve never even done drugs.” Technically, another lie. I’ve been high from inhaling what others were smoking, thanks to my mother’s choice of friends, but I’ve never done drugs myself.

  “Just shut up and let me check you.”

  His hand travels up my torso. He cups my breast, trails his fingers over my nipple and the damn thing pebbles against my will. My breathing turns heavy.

  “Is that really necessary?” My words sound hoarse.

  “What’d I tell you?”

  To shut up and let him check.

  Calm down, I scold myself. He’s not touching you because he wants to. He’s touching you because he’s trying to find a reason to toss you out on your ass.

  I close my eyes and tighten my thigh muscles. Trying to douse the ache he’s started there.

  His body is mere inches from mine. His scent, a mixture of tobacco, leather, and minty soap as it swirls around me. Harsh breaths caress my bared shoulder, making goosebumps spread down my arms. I roll my bottom lip under my top teeth and bite down. Pain. Focus on the pain.

  He’s probably done this a zillion times. Searched all the new girls who have come into the club. To him, this is just a body search. Part of his job. Something he has to do to protect the club. Not foreplay. I pray, please let this end quickly. Then maybe he won’t notice how turned on I am. No need to add to my embarrassment. Haven’t I already been through enough for one day?

  His hand leaves my breast and brushes over my cleavage before he “searches” my other breast. Seconds later his hand slides down and away. Though it’s gone, I feel an echo of it, lingering as if my skin has memorized his touch.

  His fingers dip beneath the top of my shorts again. “Am I gonna find anything down here I’m not gonna like?”

  What? I can’t find my voice to reply. There seems to be something blocking my throat.

  His fingers descend.

  He wouldn’t . . .

  Oh, my heavens . . . he would . . .

  The tips of his fingers caress the ridge of my panties first. They slide under the edge. Go down. Brush over my mound. I dig my fingernails into the wall, hoping it will help me hold on to my sanity. Now heavy with desire, my breath rebounds off the wall in front of me. Angry wasps beat their wings wildly in my chest.

  I swallow the massive thickness in my throat. “I’m not hiding anything down there, I swear.”

  He stops before he can feel what he’s done to me.

  Thank god.

  “I guess I’ll find out soon enough then, huh?”

  My core clenches tightly at his words and what he means to do.

  He slides his fingers over my tender folds and glides smoothly to the core of me, where I’m warm and wet, and aching for him.

  I bang my head against the wall, making a thunk sound.

  His breathing stops.

  Heat rushes into my cheeks.

  Coming back to my senses, I realize I’m not supposed to be enjoying this. If I was the innocent girl he thinks I am, I should be upset, right? Indignant? Pissed off he thinks he can touch me how and where he wants?

  I latch on to his wrist. Frantically, pull his hand from my shorts. “There. Happy? No drugs. If you still don’t believe me, check my arms, or give me a drug test.”

  He grips my arms tightly. Roughly spins me around. Because of the high heels, I wobble as I try to stay on my feet. I grab on to him to steady myself.

  We’re so close. Too close. All I see is him. His scent engulfs me completely. We both stand there. Motionless. My vision is filled with him, his neck, the small wrinkles in his leather jacket, the silver chain circling just above his collar. A muscle in his jaw begins to tick. My gaze shifts to a four-inch scar running along the line of his jaw, partially hidden by his five o’clock shadow. His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows. It’s then I notice how erratic his breathing is. How the pulse in his neck beats wildly. But why?

  I slowly lift my eyes to his face. His irises are liquid gold again.

  If I didn’t know better, I’d say there’s lust in his gaze, but that doesn’t make any sense. Maybe I’m mistaking desire for hatred.

  He lowers his face. The coarse hairs of his stubble scratch across my temple. He breathes into my ear. “Remove. The. Claws. Doll.”

  Huh? I blink up at him.

  Then he looks down.

  I follow his gaze to my hands gripping his biceps.

  Oh. Oops.

  A tingling sensation shoots through me. I pry my hands off him and as I do, I see that my nails have left half-moon marks on his skin.

  “Hold out your arms.” His accent, usually slight, comes out thicker. It sounds like he’s from somewhere on the east coast, New York maybe.

  I hold out my arms and take a step back so I don’t touch him.

  He reaches forward, inspects my inner elbows.

  “Never been a fan of needles. I have a low tolerance for pain.” Another reason why Warner and I weren’t meant for each other.

  He grunts. “These what I think they are?” He rubs his thumbs over the scars at my wrists. Prickles of desire shoot up my arms like sparkler sparks.

  Nope. Not going there.

  I’ve already made up my mind about those scars. Let people believe what they want. As far as I’m concerned, I’d rather have them think I tried to kill myself than tell another living soul about the nightmare I lived through.

  “Did you bring me in here to learn my deepest, darkest secrets or search for a wire and drugs?”

  His eyes flash with anger instantly. He jabs me in the chest with his finger. “Watch your mouth.”

  Not physically possible. But I’m not about to tell him that.

  “Sit.” The chilling glare is back.

  “You know, I’m not a dog,” I say under my breath. Or a cat for that matter.

  He growls, “You’re whatever the fuck I say you are. Sit. The. Fuck. Down.”

  I sit, without meaning to, because . . . oh shit . . . I think I just lit his fuse.

&n
bsp; In viewing the world through our perceptions, we can miss the truth of reality, causing us to wage unnecessary wars.

  EMBER

  Luce makes his way around the desk to his chair, shaking his head the entire time. “I can already tell you’re gonna have a problem keeping that mouth in line.” He pulls a pack of smokes from his jacket pocket and lights up. The cherry on the end of the cigarette blazes red. His cheeks hollow, and I get distracted by his full lips.

  His lips are fascinating. Kissable. Way too damn sexy.

  Dammit! Look away.

  Too late. He raises an eyebrow. I quickly drop my eyes to my hands as I wait for the interrogation I sense coming. He takes his time. I glance up now and then, but realize he’s going to make me suffer in uncomfortable silence while he smokes the entire cigarette.

  When he finally reaches forward to put it out, he asks gruffly, “Why are you really here?”

  I decide to go with the truth. “Everything I own was stolen today. My money. My clothes. I had nowhere else to go.”

  “I think we both know this isn’t where you need to be. You got family? Why not ask them for help?”

  I shift in my chair. “They can’t help me.”

  He examines my face. Probably to see if I’m lying or not. “Why not?”

  I consider my answer for a few seconds. A few seconds too long it turns out.

  “Answer the question, Doll.” He sneers the word doll as if he’s making fun of my height. Nothing new.

  “My mother took off six years ago, and she’s been MIA ever since. I have a sister, but she couldn’t help me even if she wanted to. She can barely hold down a job and support herself.”

  I’m not going to tell him about Will. He’ll probably use my love for her against me, if he found himself in need of leverage over me.

  “What about your father?”

  I snort sullenly. “Don’t know. Just some guy my mom had a fling with. I know his name, but that’s about it.” The name’s just common enough to make tracking him difficult. I wouldn’t even know where to start.

  “What about friends, boyfriends?”

  I flinch. An image of Warner flashes through my mind. Every muscle in my body goes rigid.

  Mav sits forward in his chair. His eyes narrow and roam over me. “So that’s what you’re running from then? Your man?”

  What can I say in my defense? That Warner is a psycho? Abusive? Controlling? Beyond crazy?

  “It’s complicated. He—”

  Before I can say anything else, a dark look transforms Mav’s features. Suddenly, he’s Lucifer personified.

  “Does he have any idea where you are? Or did you take off without a word?”

  What the hell? “I had to—”

  “Probably going out of his fucking mind, searching high and low for you. Wondering what the fuck? And here you are”—his lip curls—“running off lookin’ for a good time. Handing out your virginity because what? You wanna go for a hard ride on the wild side before you settle down with a nice Christian boy? That it? Get broken in real good before you shack up and become some pretty housewife for the rest of your life?”

  I reel back as if he slapped me and leap to my feet. A different kind of fire burns inside me now. It loosens my tongue. My nails dig into my palms to the point I’m sure I draw blood.

  My mind swirls with things to say. Things that would make Mav’s damn head spin.

  “You’ve got no idea of the hell I’ve lived through!” He’s being a judgmental dick. Just because some old girlfriend crushed his heart doesn’t mean every girl he meets is exactly like her. Yeah, I heard part of his and Dozer’s conversation. Some redheaded ex named Dana screwed him over and now he’s taking his anger at her out on me.

  “Yeah? Then tell me, Doll, what’s it like?”

  As if I’m watching it on the big screen, horrid memories scroll through my mind. Nausea stirs in my stomach. I instantly feel dirty all over. I could take a hundred showers and still never rid myself of the filth those memories leave behind. I pull a deep breath into my lungs and shake out my balled fists.

  Then I realize something and boldly tell him, “No.”

  “No? No what?”

  His hate is so ingrained that he doesn’t see me when he looks at me. He sees her, his ex. He’d rather believe in this conjured, distorted image of me than listen to anything I have to say to defend myself. I’m not baring my soul and showing him the most vulnerable parts of me. Just like I haven’t earned his anger, he hasn’t earned my answers.

  “Just no,” I bite out.

  “You’re not gonna tell me?” He cocks his head to one side. “Fine. Then let me guess.” He stands, places his hands on the desk, and leans toward me. The veins in his forearms bulge. “He didn’t take you out enough? Didn’t give you enough attention? Spend enough money on you?”

  I roll my eyes. “That’s it.” Sarcasm drips from my words. “You nailed it. He was such a gentlemen. Rich. Handsome. Treated me like a queen.” More like slave. “And you know what? That wasn’t enough for me. Because I’m just like your ex, right?”

  Mav’s face darkens, and his nostrils flare. He advances around the desk.

  My pulse quickens. I back up but my knees hit the chair, stopping from getting any further away from him.

  He grabs my chin and uses it to push me back down into my chair. He growls, “I don’t fuckin’ like you. I don’t want you here. In fact, I don’t want you anywhere near this club. But I gave Dozer my word. Twelve days. That’s it. And you better watch your fuckin’ step and that smart goddamn mouth of yours. You fuckin’ feel me?”

  I glare up at him as I try to yank my chin from his iron grip, but his fingers clasp my jaw so tightly I’m certain they’ll leave fingerprints behind.

  “You’ll clean, cook, do anything I fuckin’ tell you to do. And you’ll stay the fuck out of my way. That clear enough for you?”

  “Yes.” The word is barely loud enough for my own ears.

  The pause that follows is filled with tension.

  “Yes, I understand,” I say louder this time.

  “Good.” He pushes my face to the side before dropping his hand. Then he backs up and sits on the edge of his desk. He crosses his arms and continues to glare down at me. Minutes pass and I sit there for what seems like hours under his intense scowl. Finally, he says, “Answer me this? What happens at the party when Edge wants his piece of you? You gonna freak out? Embarrass the club?”

  I shake my head.

  “Let me hear you say it.”

  “No.”

  “What about when you’re the fresh piece of meat everyone’s looking to get a taste of?” He points to the door. “Those bastards can’t wait to get you on your knees, Doll. What happens when one of my brothers wants to get a sample of the smart mouth of yours? You gonna run? Or flip the fuck out?”

  “No.”

  “I’m not Dozer. Don’t bullshit me.”

  “I’m not!”

  “That right?” He shakes his head. Looks down. “Then why don’t I believe you?”

  A few seconds later, he lifts his face. His eyes lock with mine. The corner of his mouth twitches almost as if he’s restraining a smile.

  “Prove it.”

  I blink up at him. “What?”

  He uncrosses his arms and grabs the edge of the desk. His large knuckles go bone white and every muscle strains against the cotton of his T-shirt as he leans forward.

  “I said . . . prove it. I want to see you get those knees of yours dirty.”

  “But I—but—”

  “What? You don’t want to? There’s the fuckin’ door. Around here clubpieces”—he jabs his finger into my sternum—“that’s you, take orders from brothers”—he points at his own chest—“like me. You’re here for one thing and one thing only. Don’t ever forget that.”

  “It’s not that. It’s just—”

  “This is the deal, Doll. You don’t like it. LEAVE!”

  I’m so sick of him cutting me
off. “If you’d let me finish!” I snap. “I was only going to ask why the hell you want head from me. You obviously detest me. All you can see when you look at me is some other damn girl!”

  His eyes blaze with emotion, but he quickly masks it.

  “I don’t have to like a bitch to get off on her suckin’ my cock.”

  Frustrated, I huff out a long breath and sweep my hair from my face. “And what’s this point you’re trying to prove?”

  “That when things get real, you’re gonna freak the fuck out and run.” He hikes his thumb over his shoulder. “It’s what girls like you do. You can’t take it when life gets tough. And you’re not going to open your legs for a bunch of bikers after years of saving yourself for the right man.”

  I look away and then down at my lap. He has no idea. It’s almost comical, in a crazy, depressing way. “I can handle anything you can dish out,” I say through clenched teeth without meeting his gaze. “You want me to prove it? Fine.” I will. This is nothing. NOTHING!

  “That right? Then let’s break in those soft knees of yours, Doll. Show me you’re not a runner. That you can do more with that mouth of yours than piss me the hell off.” His smile’s a cold smile. It’s fake. Forced. His eyes molten. “I want you to suck my cock like you like it. Lick it like it’s a goddamn lollipop, and the best fuckin’ thing you ever tasted.”

  I know what he’s doing. He doesn’t want me here. But he can’t make me leave because of Dozer. So he’s trying to get me to run. Leave on my own.

  It’s going to take more than this to scare me off. Especially since I’m a lot more scared of what’s outside the clubhouse waiting for me than I am of the men inside it. Including Mav.

  Fine. If this is what it takes to prove to him I’m not like his ex, that I’m not going to run when things get hard, then I’ll do it. I’ll give him the best damn blowjob he’s ever had. One he’s not going to forget. So good, all others will pale in comparison. Maybe that will shut him up.

  He’s waiting for me to rush out of here. A smug expression inches over his face.

  I decide to play with him a bit first.

  Reaching into my pocket, I pull out my cherry ChapStick. The lid pops when I remove it. I take my time, slowly drawing it over my lips, rub them together, and pop them apart, before capping the ChapStick and putting it back in my pocket. Reaching back, I pull the elastic from my hair and shake out my braid. “So you can grip it better,” I tell him and I’ll be damned if that muscle in his jaw doesn’t start to tick.