“God, Hawk. I just…” She cleared her throat. “I can’t believe you’re coming.”
I winced at the sound of my club name. Unlike Summer, she hadn’t used it out of spite. She’d used it because she didn’t know me as Niyol. Nobody but Emily, Lisa, and now Summer, did.
“You good with that?” I held my breath, worried she wouldn’t be. I had no plan-fucking-B. Hadn’t even thought of one.
“Yeah, yeah. How soon will you get here?” Maya asked. “I’ve got a couch with your name on it. ”
I fell back onto the mattress and blew out a relieved breath. “Four days? Maybe less? Depends on things.” Summer things, mostly. Her and her itinerary, for starters.
At the thought, I sat back up and glared toward the bathroom. The shower was still running. She’d been in there for at least a half hour. Naked. So very fucking naked it’s not even funny.
I cleared my throat, my heart racing at the thought. Christ, what was my problem?
“Are you there?” Maya asked.
“Sorry. I’m here.” I gave my head a quick jerk, trying to relax. “It’s been a rough couple of days, is all.”
“You wanna talk about it?”
The shower turned off finally, and I jerked my head toward the door. Through it, I could hear Summer humming, the song sweet and light and everything she embodied.
“Hawk?” Maya’s voice brought me back to reality again.
I scrubbed a hand over my face this time, struggling to get my head on right. “Nah, I don’t want to get into it. We’ll talk when I get there.”
“Okay.”
We hung up not long after, never discussing our plans; not even figuring out where to meet when I got to San Diego. She told me to just call her, and that she’d come to me, wherever I was.
For the first time in forty-eight hours, getting to San Diego, to Maya too, wasn’t my number one priority. No way would I stop to think about what that meant.
“Um, the shower’s free.”
At the sound of Summer’s voice, I lifted my head, body stiffening at the view.
Jesus, she looked incredible. Everything about her tiny outfit and the body that lay beneath it had my blood simmering, my hands sweating too. Her skin was flushed red, that skimpy tank she wore barely covering her curves. The material of her skirt kissed the tops of her thighs and was practically see-through white. The woman had the body of an athlete, one who trained hard and got good results. And because of that body, my dick hardened for the hundredth time since we’d met, the need for release stronger than ever.
“Are you okay?” she asked, eyes narrowing slightly as I perused her body.
“Not really.” Not with her looking so phenomenal. Not with me wanting to strip off every damn inch of her tiny outfit. I shot up off the bed, teeth gritted, unwilling to elaborate, of course.
Without looking at her again, somehow, I grabbed some clothes out of my bag and headed to the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind me.
“Jeez, cranky much,” she mumbled through the wood, no fear of who I was, what I could do to her… where I’d come from most of all. She didn’t know me and my world. She just knew what Emily had told her, and what I’d come to show her over the past three days too. Our time together had been mild compared to what it could have been. In all senses.
I knifed a hand through my hair, pulling it, wondering why the fuck the idea of having her sass me, not judge me, fight me made me so damn confused.
“Just… It took you a long-ass time in here,” I yelled back.
That wasn’t too much of dickheaded thing to say, I didn’t think.
“What are you, the shower police?” She laughed, the sound only adding to my frustration.
Needing to de-stress, rid myself of the nerves buzzing through me, I yanked down my zipper and gripped my cock. Pulling once, twice… hard enough for pain, but soft enough for pleasure. It was torture either way I looked at it.
The bed squeaked from behind the door. I squeezed my eyes shut, thumping my head back against the wood. Inhaling to steady my breath, I was met with the scent of flowers. Flowers like body wash, or shampoo…
Christ. The entire bathroom smelled like it. Like her.
Steam fogged up the mirror still, other than a small space where she’d rubbed it clean, with her hand—I could see a print. Heavy breaths, panting, I squeezed my dick even harder, stroking faster with an open-mouthed, silent groan. Not wanting to come all over the bathroom tile, I stepped into the shower and flicked on the hot water, barely getting the rest of my clothes off in time.
I shuddered, pumping faster, imagining things that I shouldn’t.
Summer on the bed, laid out naked.
My face between her thighs, then my cock filling her tight, wet pussy.
I slammed a palm against the shower wall, head slumped forward against my chest as I came all over the drain.
I was a dirty son of a bitch.
Ten
Niyol
Half an hour later, Summer and I were walking side-by-side toward the hotel lobby. Sad part was, I was more on edge than before I’d jerked off.
Whenever Summer moved, her arm would graze mine, sending little shocks over my skin—electric charges, it felt like. Whenever she spoke, my head would spin, making me dizzy. Then whenever she looked at me? My fucking heart would jump into my throat, choke me, really. I’m not sure what was happening to me, just knew I didn’t like it.
When we finally got to the lobby, and her ample tits had just barely grazed my upper arm, I lost it.
“Jesus, I need some space, all right?”
Pain shot through her gaze, those blue eyes questioning my bad mood. I pointed to the concierge desk, lowering my voice. Again, it wasn’t her fault.
“Can you find us a place to eat, please?” I reeled in the last of my anger. “I’m gonna go out and smoke.”
The first thing I did when I stepped outside was breathe in the night air, then light a cigarette. Several drags later, I thought I had myself under control… until she appeared again, messing with my mind in ways she couldn’t help. Ways I hated myself for.
She pushed through the front door of the hotel, avoiding my eyes to look at a brochure in her hands. “Apparently there’s a good bar and grill down the street, close enough that we can walk to it. See some sights along the way, maybe a few stores we could pop into on the walk back.” She shrugged. “It’s still early.”
“Fine.” I took the last drag of my smoke, then stubbed it out with the toe of my boot. There would be no tourist shopping on my end, but she could do whatever she wanted.
The strap of her tank top slipped down her arm as she brushed against me. That drew my gaze back to her body, more so to her breasts as they peeked through her thin shirt. Her nipples were hard, poked against the material, and I licked my lips at the sight, my tongue ring clinking against my teeth.
Summer stopped whatever she was saying and zeroed in on my mouth. Both cheeks went pink when she discovered what I was doing. Lip pulled between her teeth, she tugged the little sweater thing that was wrapped around her waist over her shoulders, tying it at the neck.
I was such a bastard.
Pulling the brim of my baseball hat down over my eyes, I took off ahead, not knowing if I was going in the right direction. Must’ve been, because a minute later she was at my side once more, her sparkly flip-flops slapping the cement along the way.
“Is there a fire I’m unaware of?” she asked.
“No.” At least not one she could see.
Though I’d been nothing but an ass to her since we left the room, she started talking to me anyway. Part of me wondered if the real reason she never stopped was because it made her feel in control when she was nervous. Funny how, after three days, I already knew her quirks.
She went on and on about the city and the streets, about how she’d never been west before. Maybe if I listened to her, tried to be friends like she wanted, then I could picture her as another Emily.
> It was worth a shot.
“… and my dad was always with my brothers or at work, so he never took me places growing up. I’ve always wanted to travel though.”
“Brothers?” I asked.
“Two of them.” Summer smiled fondly. “Twins, actually.” Her little nose scrunched up. “They’re athletic junkies and both play sports semi-professionally now.”
“Which sports?” I didn’t do sports. Ever. No time, desire, or opportunity.
“One plays football for a traveling indoor league. The other plays hockey somewhere in Canada.”
I could hear the pride in her voice. It’s obvious she looked up to the guys. Loved them a shit ton, too. I could relate to that. Emily made me proud with all her smarts. Even her choice in men was decent. A pretty-boy fiancé, a stable life, a stable job… good things she deserved.
Growing up, I didn’t have anyone but my club brothers, and we were all the same person. But once Pops married Lisa when I was seventeen, I welcomed Emily as my little sis, even if she didn’t want anything to do with me or the club at the time.
We landed in front of a brick building with a white door about a half mile away from the hotel. Thankfully, the open air had given me a chance to regroup. Going back to the hotel room would be a whole other issue later, but this was a minute-by-minute situation now.
“This is it, I think.” Summer peeked up at me from under her long bangs. She was nervous, likely thinking my shit mood was still there.
Squinting, I took note of the sign hanging above the door and smirked. “Jarkey’s, huh?” Home of the best burgers in Nebraska, the logo read on the window.
“Don’t knock the name.” She reached for the knob, but I blocked her, opening it myself. I urged her in first, a hand along her lower back. Gentlemanly and shit. She gave me a tentative smile, thanking me with a nod.
I cleared my throat. “Not knocking the name. Just hungry and don’t wanna be let down if they don’t actually serve the best burgers in Nebraska.”
“Like all good things in life, you have to give the unknown a chance.” She winked, then moved toward the hostess. Secretly, I wondered if that was what she’d done when it came to this trip; driving me.
Inside the bar, I lifted my gaze to the ceiling, then surveyed the rest of the room. Anything to keep my eyes off her ass. The place was small. Clean wood, smelling like fried foods, with the dull roar of sports games on the TV that echoed through the speakers. I could handle this, even if it wasn’t my typical joint.
The hostess led us to a table in the dining section where Summer and I sat at a high-top table. “What can I get you two to drink?”
“We’ll take whatever beer you have on tap, please,” Summer said as she studied the menu.
I frowned, not used to having anyone order for me.
When the waitress was gone, I looked at my menu and asked, “You still hungover?”
She set her menu on the table and rubbed her palms flat over the surface. “A little.” She pulled the blonde braid she always wore over her shoulders and played with the ends. Another nervous habit. “I’m sorry about last night.”
“What’re you sorry about?” I narrowed my eyes.
“Getting drunk-weepy. I tend to do that when I have vodka and the place we went was definitely a vodka kind of joint.”
“You remember everything you said?”
She licked her lips. “Yes. I do. And I was incredibly stupid. Just… had one of those nights, ya know?”
I didn’t know. Mainly because I didn’t cry. Ever. Hadn’t experienced an emotion to make me in life, not since I was a kid and my old man broke my arm. I didn’t say that though.
“Sure.” I leaned back in my chair, stretching my legs out under the table.
She played with her fork and napkin, not looking at me as she finished. “I don’t want to talk about it though.”
“Which part?”
“All of it, really. I promised myself I was done talking about…” She cringed, cutting herself off.
“Your ex?”
She blew out a heavy breath and nodded.
“Then we won’t.” I shrugged, not caring one way or the other. I knew what it was like, not wanting to share your shit. And we didn’t know each other well enough to do so.
“I’m over him, by the way.”
I blinked, deciding to stir the pot a little. “Didn’t seem like that last night.”
“I was drunk. That’s why. When I drink, I get emotional, I told you. I know it’s a lame excuse, but—”
“And I told you we didn’t have to talk about it.” I took a drink of my draft. The cold liquid nearly burned my throat, proof that it’d been a long time since I, too, had gotten wasted.
“Don’t you, ya know, want to though?”
I opened my mouth to tell her I didn’t give two shits, but I saw her cringe, realizing that maybe she wanted me to say yes after all. Wanted to spill her guts to someone, even if she said otherwise.
Therapy in the form of me. Funny shit, that was.
“Listen, Princess. If you’ve got shit to say, I’m not gonna stop you from saying it.”
“For the last time, stop calling me Princess. Please.”
“It’s just a nickname.” I held my sweaty glass between my hands, scowling. I was trying to make her laugh, get under her skin even, not make her feel all sad and shit.
She set her elbows back on the table, waiting a sec before she asked, “Don’t you ever regret being so rough?”
Ah, so she was turning this around on me then. “I have a lot of regrets in life. But that’s not one of them.”
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked that.”
“Nothing to be sorry for.” I finished my beer, then pushed it to the middle of the table. “Shit happened in my life that I can’t take back, and now I’m trying to make up for it.”
“While you were in your motorcycle gang?”
“Club.”
“Huh?”
“It’s called a motorcycle club.” Though gang was a phrase that most folks around Rockford and the Chicago area used for us.
“Oh, well, what was the bad shit you did?” she asked.
“You really wanna know?”
She nodded slowly, not looking too convinced. Maybe if I told her what I’d been through, what I was like, she’d stop trying to be friends with me.
“We did bad shit, Summer. Sold drugs, killed men, broke a hell of a lot more laws than I’m sure you even know exist.” Her eyes widened a little. Fear filled them, which was exactly what I wanted to see. “We never got caught, but we were always hunted.”
“Hunted?” She bit her bottom lip.
“Yeah. Sometimes by rival clubs, but mostly the DEA.”
“As in the Drug Enforcement Administration?”
I nodded. “My old man dealt with a lot of illegal shit, mostly drug trafficking. Occasional prostitution too, but that stopped when a couple of the groupies round the club got pregnant. I didn’t like the way things were run, but I never got a say as to how things went down either.” I shrugged, wishing it hadn’t been that way.
“If you were the leader—”
“The Pres, you mean.”
She rolled her eyes. “If you were the Pres, what would you have done differently?”
Nobody had ever asked me that before. Probably because they didn’t want it to get back to Pops that someone was questioning his role. But I’d thought about it. A lot. Especially when I was in prison. And for some reason, I wanted Summer to know what my plans had been, even if I’d never get to follow through with them.
I leaned back in my chair and tucked my hands behind my neck. “Before I got put behind bars, I’d always dreamed of taking over the club one day, reforming it.”
“How so?” she asked.
“I wanted to turn it into a more family-oriented place. Most of the older brothers had jobs outside of the compound, a few had families too. The ones who didn’t, like me, worked in the onsite bo
dy shop and just needed the club as a place to kick back. Lots had fucked-up families like mine. Some were former soldiers who didn’t wanna go back into the real world after getting out of the military.” I shrugged. “I wanted a place where we could all come together. Be that family. Enjoy the occasional party, but also have each other’s backs.”
“So you wanted to be a mechanic and turn the whole compound into a roughed-up version of a country club then.”
“Guess so.” Her analogy was spot on, but it still made me laugh. “I wanted to expand on the business aspect too. Possibly open up another repair shop outside the compound. Look for other ways to make money instead of doing it illegally.”
The Red Dragons could’ve been so much more than what they were. Hell, maybe they were already changing, and I didn’t know it. Arch and Slade hadn’t said much about what was going down back at the compound, club rules restricted non-members from knowing their business. They’d mentioned Flick had taken over, which was a good thing. But he didn’t always know right from wrong either. Still, any of my ideas were pipe dreams now, long fucking gone the second I decided my own freedom was more important than the club’s reputation.
“And now you’re running away from it all.” She tapped a finger against her lips.
“No.” I grunted, hating the lie on my tongue.
“Then what do you call it? Escaping?” She tipped her head to the side.
I rubbed a hand over my mouth, still not answering. I didn’t want her to know that there was a small chance I was currently being hunted right now by anyone who was pissed about what I’d done. She’d freak out, kick me to the curb. And seeing as how I was a dumbass, offering to pay for her expensive hotel tonight, I’d basically just shit away most of my money. Whether I wanted to admit it or not, I needed Summer.
“I’m just trying to figure you out, is all.” She reached across the table and set her hand over my wrist. I froze, looking at her skin compared to mine. Pale, untouched, smooth, while mine was rough, knuckles lined with scratches and bruises. Scars from past fights and being whipped across the hands by anything my father could use for a weapon when I was a kid.
Her Wild Ride: An addictive, steamy biker MC romance suspense novel Page 7