by Nina Levine
She turns in her seat, a frown marring her beautiful face. “Did I say something wrong?”
“No, babe, I was hungry is all. You want dessert, or you wanna hit the road?”
“I’m full, thank you.”
“My pleasure.” I pull out my wallet from my pocket and throw some bills on the table. Grabbing her hand, I walk her back to my bike. This time there’s no hesitation when her small hand wraps around mine.
I place my hand at Sofia’s lower back and guide her into my home above the garage. It's a one-bedroom unit I renovated after I took over Torque from my dad. Switching on the lights, I walk into the kitchen and pull out a few beers from the refrigerator. After opening them, I pass her one, then nod toward the couch. She looks around at my place before she follows me, taking a seat and tucking her long legs under herself.
“So, Sofia, if today wasn’t your wedding day, what would a normal Saturday night look like?”
“Most Saturday nights I have to be on my best behavior, either by my parents or by Thomas.” She drops her gaze from me and starts playing with the wrapper on her beer.
“Okay, let’s change the question. What would you do if you could do anything? Something that would make you happy.”
She tilts her head and a smile spreads across her face. “I want to be normal. I want to be able to go out somewhere with friends, have some drinks, and dance the night away without having to worry about what people think of me.”
“Let’s go.” I stand up and reach out for her hand.
I love that she doesn't hesitate to place her hand in mine anymore. She doesn't know me from Adam, but she seems to trust me, and that makes me happy.
Sofia stumbles as I yank her up, her hands going to my chest to steady herself. I hear a little intake of breath when her hands touch me. Her eyes drop to my lips, letting me know this attraction is not one-sided.
“But I can’t. People will know who I am.”
“Do you trust me?”
“Yes,” she replies.
Taking a step back, I walk her out the door, locking up behind me. I retake her hand in mine as she shivers.
Shit.
“You’re cold out here. I didn’t think.” I slip off my jacket and place it around her.
“Oh, I couldn’t.”
I lift her arms into the jacket, pulling the lapels together, brushing against her chest.
“Thank you,” she whispers.
I jump on the bike, needing to break the contact, or else I’m going to do something stupid like kiss her, then take her up to my bed and fuck her. It doesn't last long, as I feel her mount behind me, her arms hugging me tightly. Luckily, the bar isn't too far. I know she’ll probably hate it there. From the look of her perfectly manicured nails and shiny hair and the way she holds herself, I can tell she comes from money. Privilege oozes from every part of her.
Being that this is the bar all the guys from my garage hang out at and is also the hangout for a local motorcycle club my brother runs, I figure no one will bother her. The only girls that hang out here are the local hang-arounds trying to score some dick.
Pulling up beside another Harley, I park the bike. Sofia is at my side before I stand up. She’s looking at the other bikes surrounding the front of Roxie’s Bar. Its facade looks rundown from the outside, and the inside isn't much better, but it’s clean and the beer tastes great.
“Is this place safe?” She tugs her bottom lip.
I pocket my keys as I approach her. “Babe, I would not take you anywhere you wouldn't be safe.”
The music inside drifts out as a couple opens the door and walks inside.
“I promised you beer and dancing. Plus, you are almost incognito here in your Target duds.” I smile at her, and she smiles back, nearly knocking me off my feet; she’s stunning. Her cheeks are flushed from the ride, her eyes larger than normal. And her face seems to light up. She looks excited and happy. It makes me want to do things for her to keep that look on her face permanently.
I put my arm around her and walk us inside, straight to the bar where there are a couple of empty stools.
Sofia wraps her arm around my waist, raises up on her tippy-toes, and whispers into my ear, “I’m just going to the ladies’.”
I nod, and as she walks away, I growl when I see nearly every other guy's eyes follow her too.
I’ve only just ordered two beers from the bartender when I feel a slap on my back.
“Hey, boss,” Ryder says, beer in his hand.
“Ryder.”
“Don’t Ryder me. What was today all about? Who’s the broad?”
“None of your business,” I reply, hoping he gets the point. I don't want to talk about it.
I turn and see Sofia coming back our way. “Do not question her,” I warn him.
“Hey, I’m Sofia,” she says, introducing herself to Ryder.
I pull her into me and away from him. “This is Ryder from earlier today, and he was just leaving.”
“Yeah, I was. Wanna come with me?” He winks, and I shove him with my free arm. He laughs and walks back to the pool table where the other boys are at.
3
Sofia Winters
I lean into Jett, enjoying the feel of being in his arms. It’s been a long while since I’ve been held like this. Things with Thomas had become cold. We act as if we like each other in public, but things behind closed doors have become almost clinical. I don’t know why I didn’t come to this realization earlier—like years ago. With the couple of beers, I have a nice buzz going on. Okay, maybe a little bit more than a buzz.
I smile at the bartender setting up two shots of a transparent liquid followed by two bottles of Coors.
Placing a hand on Jett’s chest, I breathe out and whisper in his ear, “Trying to get me drunk?”
He doesn’t turn to me, but I see his lips curve up in a smile. He lifts the shot to his mouth, and I watch his throat swallow the liquid. Are necks sexy? Why am I tempted to do naughty things to him?
“And if I am?” He licks his lips, and I wish it were my tongue.
Ugh, you just met the guy.
Shaking off my thoughts, I reluctantly take my hand off his chest and lift the shot to my mouth, my eyes staying on his. The cold liquid burns as it slides down my throat, my tongue moving across my lips, his eyes dropping to watch me. Enjoying his stare, I don't release him, instead dropping the shot glass on the bar and reaching for the beer bottle. I wrap my tongue around the tip and then…
Jett wraps his hand around my neck, forcefully, bringing my face to his, his lips touching my ear. His breath sends shivers down my spine. “You’re playing with fire, princess.”
As quick as his hand is on me, it's gone. He signals to the bartender for another two shots. When the bartender places two more down on the bar, he lifts his, motioning for me to do the same. He tips his to mine, and I do the same.
“To playing with fire.”
“To going up in flames,” he replies in a deep voice before giving me a lopsided grin.
I shoot the shot down, slamming it back onto the bar.
Tonight may be my only night of freedom, and I’m not going to waste it. Growing up as the only daughter to the "Hotel King" might sound glamorous, but it was far from it. I’ve never been able to just let my hair down and be myself. I don’t even know who I am, not really. But, tonight, I get a reprieve. A reprieve because a hot stranger on a bike took a chance on me.
I turn, leaning my back on the bar to take in my surroundings. The first thing I notice is that all eyes are not on me. No, I’m not arrogant to think they should be. It’s just the places I usually frequent, it happens all the time. This bar is rundown and dark, with flashing neon lights on the walls. A few pool tables in the left corner, what looks like a makeshift dance floor where girls wearing revealing dresses are gyrating against their partners, and tables with groups of rowdy men, most wearing a black vest. They almost look matching. Ooh.
I lean to the side, where Jett is stu
dying me, clearly amused if his smile is anything to go by, and nod to the guys sitting by the door. “Are they like a motorcycle crew? Group? They all have the same vest on.”
Jett spits out his beer. Luckily, he doesn't spray it all over me, as he’d turned when I asked my question.
When he has his laughter under control, he again pulls my head to his, muttering something about being so innocent. “Sofia,” he growls in my ear, making me hot. “Do not. And I repeat, do not call them that.”
I pull out of his grip. “It’s not like I was going to go question them.”
His hands grasp the sides of my neck, a smile still playing on his mouth. His face is so close, our lips could almost kiss.
“It’s a club. A motorcycle club.”
“Okay.”
“Tell me you’ve heard of The Kingsman?”
When I don’t reply, he continues. “Maybe Sons of Anarchy?”
Oh riiight.
I slap his chest and stage whisper, “You said this was a safe place.”
He captures my hand. “Sofia, look around. Has anyone bothered you since we came in? Half these guys are my brothers. You are safe. Trust me.”
Looking around the bar, I realize for the first time that I'm having fun. No pressure to behave, to be the perfect daughter. Everyone has been so nice and friendly, including the lady in the bathroom who offered me her lip gloss. I feel as if I’m in a different world, and I'm loving it.
Turning back at a smiling Jett, I return his smile.
“I do trust you.” I lean my face close to his. “Do you want to be the one to teach me how to play pool?”
He puts his arms around my hips, crushing me to his front. “I’m the only one who’s going to teach you,” he growls.
He kisses my cheek, shocking me, his soft lips lingering there for a little longer than normal, sending electrical shocks down my body. He pulls back but keeps his arm around my waist and walks me to the back of the bar.
The guy from earlier, Ryder I think it was, smirks down at me. Gosh, these guys are tall. “Changed your mind, sweetheart?”
“No, she hasn’t,” Jett answers with a tone of authority in his voice.
I step out of his arm. “I can answer for myself.”
“Feisty. I like that in a woman. You sure you’re not sick of this guy yet?” Ryder takes a step closer to me, and I don’t realize I'm moving closer to Jett until his arm goes around my shoulder, tucking me into him.
“I think the lady’s decided.”
“All right, I know when to back off. Me and Jake here were about to start a new game. Want to play a game with us?”
I see a guy with long brown hair and a smirk on his face wave a triangle in the air.
“You’re on.”
We take a few steps to the table, but I spin in Jett’s arms, my hands on him, stopping him. He watches my fingers, which seem to have a mind of their own, tracing from his flat abs up to his chest, across…
“Oh, oops,” I squeak out when I realize they’re wandering around his body.
His hands take mine, and he places them back on his chest. “You can touch me whenever you like, princess.”
Oh, uh. “You do realize I don’t know how to play.”
“Yeah, I kinda got that when you said you want me to teach you.”
“So, you're okay with losing?”
“Oh, we won’t be losing, mark my words.”
“Come on, lovebirds, are we playing or not?” Ryder calls from behind me.
Jett takes one of my hands in his and walks us to the table. He sits down on a stool near a high table and pulls me to stand between his spread knees. I allow it. It feels nice, like he’s looking after me. I love how openly affectionate he is. He seems to always find reasons to touch me. It makes me feel desirable and cared for. Something I’m not used to feeling.
I relax into him, resting my back against his chest, my bottom pressing at the junction of his spread thighs. His extremely hard, muscular thighs that feel too good.
Who the hell have I become?
I like this laidback Sofia.
“Have you seen this game played before?” he says into my ear as his hand glides over my side to rest on my stomach.
I shake my head and struggle to hear the rules he is telling me, as every whisper in my ear, paired with his hand sitting on my tummy, is distracting me. But not nearly as much at the hardness I can feel from under me. I try to wriggle away from him, but his other hand meets the one in my front and pulls me harder against him.
He growls in my ear, “Princess, you need to stop moving.”
I halt my movements.
Ryder and Jake return to us with a tray of beers and shots.
“What’s in this?” I ask, standing up when Ryder hands me a shot glass. It’s filled with a brown liquid and a green liquid, topped with a white layer on top.
“These here are quick fucks.” Jake wiggles his eyebrows, eliciting a laugh from me.
I turn to look at Jett, and he lifts his glass up. “Bottoms up.”
I tilt the glass to my mouth and quickly swallow the mixed drink. The coffee-flavored shot goes down nicely. I lick my lips, needing to taste every last drop. All their eyes are on my lips.
Jett chuckles. “We’re so going to win.”
“Who’s breaking?” Jake asks.
“You guys can,” Jett offers, taking a sip of his beer.
Jake hits the balls, sinking a red and white striped one.
“Okay, babe, we’re solids. Do you want to go first?”
I lift my bottle of beer, taking a healthy sip instead of taking the cue stick he offers.
He smiles and turns to face the table. Bending over, he positions his cue to hit the white ball, my eyes drawn to his ass. The jeans he’s wearing are fitted perfectly, outlining his muscular, perfectly-shaped rear end. Perfect to grab and...
“See something you like?”
I lift my eyes up to his, and he’s now standing in front of me.
Oops, busted.
“Nope, not at all.” I take another sip, looking away from him and to Ryder taking a shot.
“You’re up, princess,” Ryder says after missing his shot.
“Her name is Sofia,” Jett says sternly.
“But you—”
He gives him a look, which makes Ryder retreat. “Sofia, the table is yours.”
Jett takes my beer from my hand and places it on the table. He passes me the cue, then hooks his hand around my neck. “I’m the only one who gets to call you princess. That’s mine, and mine only,” he says before letting me go.
I stumble, either from his words, which make my body shiver with need, or from the alcohol. Maybe a little of both.
I take a few steps to the table and scan the colored balls, having no idea what to do. That’s when my back warms when he presses the front of his body to mine and rests his chin on my shoulder.
“See that red ball near that corner pocket?”
I nod, not able to answer with him so close.
“You want to hit the white ball in that direction, so the red falls into the pocket.”
I nod again.
“Think you can handle that?”
When I nod for the third time, he takes a step back. I lean forward, line up my hand on the green surface, and place the stick in position.
Shoot.
I miss the ball completely.
The guys smirk as Jett approaches me.
“Try again, I’ll help you.”
I lean over and take my position, thinking Jett will stand beside me and give me pointers. But no, he leans over me and plasters his body to mine, sliding his hand from my shoulder down to my elbow before lifting it up.
“Keep this up here.” His hand covers mine, the other one helping me set up my thumb and fingers to keep the cue stable.
He gently pulls the cue backward and then pushes forward. “This is the motion you need. Position it in front of the white ball and just tap it like this.”
>
I take in a deep breath and wiggle my butt, needing him to step back. He pulls me up with him, so we are standing. I love that he seems to like touching me, but I’m confused over my body's reaction to him.
I exhale slowly. “Thank you. I’ve got this.” Well, I think I do anyway.
He steps away, his lips curling into an obnoxious smile, and I’m annoyed he seems to know how he’s affecting me. I turn around, cue in hand, and lift it up to prod his stomach, motioning that he's in my way. Laughing, he moves to his stool and lets me take my shot. This time, I don’t miss, and the white ball hits the red one into the pocket.
“Beginners luck,” Ryder grumbles, his hands resting on the opposite side of the table.
I smile at him, happy that I hit the ball.
“Your turn again.”
I walk to the side where the yellow ball is next to the black one, near a pocket. I lean over, take the shot, and get both balls in.
“Yes.” I throw my hands in the air, including the cue stick.
“I did it,” I say as Jett approaches me.
He takes the cue from my hand and places it on the table.
“Did you see? I did good, yes?”
He takes me in his arms, and in my excitement, I wrap my arms around his neck.
He lifts me off the ground and swings us around. “You did great, babe.” He stops, and I slowly slide down his body, enjoying the contact.
As I drop to my feet, our faces are close. We both look at each other's lips and move closer. Just as our lips touch and I feel the energy coursing through us, Ryder hits Jett on the back.
“Better luck next time, man.”
I turn my face to look at him, then back to Jett. “What do you mean by that? I got our colored balls in, didn’t I?”
“Yes, you did,” Ryder continues, “but the black ball isn't one of yours. Only when a player has hit all their balls into the pockets do they go for the black one. When they do, they're the winner. If you get it in before then, you lose.”
I look back up at Jett. “So we lost?”
He nods, and I pout at him. He smirks, and it’s sexy, but it makes me pout more.
He laughs.