Her eyes fly open. I expect her to argue. She usually does.
Instead Shelly leans up on her elbows and spreads her legs wider.
Goddamn. I am definitely in over my head with this one. One minute I think I have her figured out, that my hand is the upper one, and the next she does something like this that rips the rug right out from under my feet.
It means I have to go all in. Prove I’m the stronger one. The one in control of what happens between us.
That I’m the one who will push her limits. Not the other way around.
It’s the only way I can keep her safe.
I grip her thighs and spread them wider, making sure she can see every fucking thing I do. I cover her pussy with my mouth and suck her clit, working it with my tongue and lips.
And I never stop watching her watch me.
She knows who’s giving her this. Knows whose mouth is between her legs.
That I can be the one to give her what she needs.
But then Shelly changes the game again.
Her legs jerk in my hands and her fingers fist in my hair as she comes under my tongue.
And she says my fuckin’ name.
My real name.
Shaun.
It comes out sharp and strong as she rides my face, body tight, her eyes locked on mine.
Shaun.
Not Hawk.
I let her legs down, stretching them out beside me as I work my way back up her body, licking a path over the smooth skin of her belly, over the swell of her tits, along her collarbone, before finally finding her mouth. I ease her back against the mattress, then slide off to one side, pulling her body tight to mine. Her hair tickles my face and I push my nose into the dark, wavy mass, breathing deep. She smells sweet and innocent. Like vanilla and sugar.
She sleeps in a bed that would make Barbie proud.
But she’s also a wild woman with wicked aim and secret piercings who doesn’t hesitate to put up a fight.
The same reason I can’t walk away from her is the same reason I should.
Because if anyone could ever understand me it would be her.
Shelly’s breathing slows. She’s asleep.
I lean back a little to watch her. I should go. Let her sleep.
But I can’t. Don’t want to.
I want to stay here. In a pink fuckin’ bed, surrounded by little lights.
I want to be here when she wakes up.
I want her face to be the first thing I see.
I’ve never done it. Never wanted to. Learned early on a life without attachment made everything easier.
Because a man who’s attached to a woman does desperate things to keep her.
I never wanted a woman to have that power over me.
Still don’t.
But what I want and what I get isn’t always the same thing.
I kick off my boots. They barely make a sound as they fall against the pile of the carpet. I pull the pink and white covers around us, tucking them around her.
Then I lay my head beside hers.
And fall asleep next to a woman for the first time in my life.
****
“SHAUN?”
The soft voice snaps me awake, jolting me from an alarmingly deep sleep.
Shelly’s tucked close beside me, one hand resting against my cheek. She pulls her bottom lip between her teeth. “Um. I need to get up.”
The room is bright. Not from the lights twisted around her bed, but from the daylight streaming in through the two large windows facing me.
“Can you let me go?”
I blink, trying to work out the fogginess still clouding my brain. It takes a couple more seconds for her request to register.
Then I realize why she had to wake me up. I pull the arm pinning her to me away. “Sorry. I—”
She slides off the bed immediately and jumps up to dash across the room, leaving me in the middle of a fucking princess bed alone. I stare up at the gauzy canopy.
What the fuck am I doing? I rub at my eyes, trying not to think about the possible ramifications that could come from spending the night with Shelly.
And doing it right out of the gate.
I yank my hand from my face to find Shelly staring at me. “You okay?”
She seems hesitant, more cautious that normal.
And maybe a little suspicious.
But she’s still naked so I’m having a hard time focusing on the odd way she’s looking at me.
In my experience most women don’t like to stand around with all their shit displayed. Which is a shame.
They just never seem to appreciate it the way I do.
But Shelly doesn’t seem bothered at all and it’s sexy as hell. “Come here.”
The seriousness of her expression slips a little as she walks toward the bed, her hips swaying enough that I can tell she doesn’t just not mind being naked in front of me.
She likes it.
Probably realizes the power a naked woman has over a man, which should be a big problem for me since I’m not interested in being controlled by anyone, especially a woman. It’s why I’ve always been careful not to get close to one.
I don’t trust them.
Usually.
Shelly crawls onto the bed. I grab her as soon as she’s within reach and pull her down against my side. I run my hands up and down her back, closing my eyes against a bite of fear. I’ve spent my whole life keeping women in their place, making sure none of them could make me stupid like my dad.
Make me weak.
Dangerous.
And this one could do it if I let her. I’ve known it from that first night. Knew if there was any woman who could take me down it would be her.
And she’s already done it once.
I’m not sure I should give her the power to do it again.
I could lose everything. My job. My home.
My freedom.
Just like my dad did.
“Are you hungry?” Shelly barely shifts against me, rolling toward her stomach, bringing her back into full view. When she ran to the bathroom I was still groggy enough I didn’t get a good look at her as she left.
I run one finger down her spine and over the line of black script running along it. “Like the wind I am free.”
Shelly moves away, easing out of my arms, her demeanor shifting immediately. “Are you hungry or not?” She yanks open a drawer and pulls out a pair of panties then steps into them before wrestling a sports bra over her head. She won’t look at me.
Something about the tattoo on her back hit a nerve. One that shoved away any closeness we had after last night.
I should be happy she’s pulling away, relieved that I didn’t have to be the one to do it.
Because it was feeling a little too easy. A little too comfortable being here. In her bed.
Sleeping beside her.
I can’t let myself get attached. Not to a woman I barely know. Not to any woman.
“I’ve got shit to do.” I get off the bed and grab my boots. I shouldn’t have stayed here. Shouldn’t have let myself go where I did. I know better.
I know what can happen when a man lets a woman under his skin, and I shouldn’t have let Shelly get under mine. Not this fast.
Not at all.
Shelly stands perfectly straight, her chin tipped up just a little as I stride past her and down the hall. Hank stops me before I can get out the door, shoving his wide snout against my hand. I can’t just walk away from him.
“Bye, buddy. I’ll see you later.” I rub over his head and neck, giving him a final pat on the back as I yank open the door and step out into the carport sheltering me from the full strength of the sun. I glance up as I roll my bike down the driveway, hating that I want to see her watching me go.
Maybe trying to stop me.
But I don’t. There’s no sign of the woman who’s already proving I’m as big of a dumbass as my old man was. No matter how much I swore I’d be different I’m still trying to head down the
same path that led him to ruin.
And me right into King’s clutches.
I fire up the engine and crank it a little before I go. I want her to hear me leave.
Know I’m walking away from her.
Because being an ass is better than being what she almost made me.
What I definitely will be if I don’t run away from her and never look back.
I fly down the road, trying to enjoy the wind in my face and the sun on my back.
I normally like to ride. Love it really. Lets me clear my head and figure shit out.
Not today. Today all I can think about is the way Shelly felt behind me last night, her arms tight around my waist and her face pressed into my back. She rode the whole way to her house with her eyes shut, holding onto me like her life depended on it.
Because she thought I was what would keep her safe.
The realization burrows under my skin, leaving an uncomfortable burn as it digs its way to my stomach.
For some fucked-up reason she trusts me and I don’t know how to feel about that.
I park my bike in the detached garage next to my brick single-story. The guys helped build it when I offered up my place for the weekly meetings. It’s nothing fancy, but it holds my bike and car and my tools.
I’m just locking up the garage when I hear Tracker and Butch coming down the street. I stand in the driveway and wait. A few seconds later they come into view.
Tracker pulls up with Butch sliding in beside him. They cut their engines but don’t get off.
Tracker nods toward the garage. “You up for a ride?”
Not really, but I’d rather spend a miserable morning on my bike then explain the source of my bad attitude. “Sure.”
I pull out the bike I just put away and line it up. “Where we heading to?”
I finally take a real good look at Butch and Tracker.
They don’t seem like they’re out to enjoy a ride.
“Got something that needs checked out.” Butch slides a toothpick between his teeth.
“Think we might have a problem.”
7
“I LIKE WHAT you’re doing with your hair. I’ve always wished I had the confidence to just let mine go.”
I normally want to gouge Felicity’s eyes out on a good day.
Today’s not a good day.
“I can imagine. Insecurity is an ugly thing.”
The nostrils on her perfectly straight nose flare. “I gave you a compliment.”
“I don’t want it.” I try not to glare at Becca but Jesus Christ, how can I make it more clear I don’t like this bitch?
And yet she keeps fucking showing up.
You’d think she’d be terrified to run into Kerri again. End up asphyxiating on her own underwear because she looked at Evan sideways.
I might like to see that happen. Might perk me up a little.
Not that I have any reason to be the sour bitch I am. I knew what I was getting myself into.
Did it on purpose.
I lean back in my chair and rock a little as I pick up the bar menu from the wire rack it sits in. I need a drink if I’m going to make it through this lunch.
Might as well change the subject and give Becca something interesting to talk about besides whatever research she’s been doing at work. “How do you like the new apartment?”
“Living alone is interesting.” She tilts her head to one side. “Significantly easier to determine the rate that I consume perishables.”
I smile for the first time today. I miss living with Becca. Miss her odd statements and observations. I always knew what she was thinking. Mostly because she was more than happy to tell me.
No bullshit. No holding back.
Everything’s black and white with her. No grey area. It was good for me because I like to live in the grey area. One foot in the light and one in the darkness.
Life’s all about balance, right?
“For instance, our milk had to be replaced anywhere from one to three times a week depending on...” Her eyes move off to one side. “Well that was the problem. I’m not sure what it depended on.” She shrugs. “Now I know I will use exactly one half gallon per week. No running out, no pouring spoiled milk down the drain. It’s fantastic.”
That’s all it takes to make Becca happy. The known. She’s an easy friend to have because of it.
“God you’re so boring.” Felicity rolls her eyes and flops back in her seat. “Both of you.”
I’d be upset if the bitch knew shit about me. She doesn’t. And honestly I like it that way. I don’t know shit about her outside the bad attitude she wears like Cartier, flashing it around and shoving it in people’s faces until they can’t ignore it anymore.
I think she likes to be hated. Gets off on the vitriol.
Felicity tosses her dark hair over one shoulder as our very young waiter approaches, giving him a blindingly white smile. “Hey.”
How one word can sound like a proposition is beyond me. I should probably ask her for some lessons.
But then I’d end up having to hide her body because I can’t be in the same room with Felicity for more than ten minutes without plotting her death. Again, that’s on a good day. One where I’m not already riding at a bitch level of ten.
“Why do you hang out with her?” I don’t even bother trying to hide the question from Felicity. I don’t care if she hears it. Hell, maybe she’ll get pissed and storm off like she normally does.
Becca shrugs. “She’s interesting.”
I slide a glance at Felicity. She’s smiling smugly at me. Obviously hasn’t really thought Becca’s apparent compliment through.
Becca likes to break things down to their most basic pieces and study what makes them tick.
She’s studying Felicity like a lab rat and the chick doesn’t even realize it.
It’s hilarious. My week-long sour mood suddenly lifts a little. I’m not even mad Becca invited Felicity to crash our lunch anymore.
In fact.
“What are you girls doing tonight?”
I need a distraction this evening. Something to keep me from sitting at home being pissed off over a situation of my own creation. “We should go out.”
It’s Saturday and I can’t make myself go to Jill’s. I thought I was ready to have no-strings-attached fun with Hawk, but if this week has proved anything it’s that I’m great at lying to myself.
Or just pretending I’m something I’m not. I’m not wild. I’m not crazy.
At least not in the way I need to be to have a casual relationship with Hawk.
“What are you thinking?” Felicity looks suspicious. Probably should be considering not two minutes ago I was contemplating her death.
“Maybe a club? I want to go dancing.” If there’s anything that will make me forget about the giant man who dominated my body and bed it will be an evening of grinding on any man who can follow a beat.
Then going home alone since I’m clearly not cut out for anything else. Which is a bummer because I was really looking forward to seeing what Hawk could dish out.
That was most likely the problem. Somehow I ended up invested. Attached.
After one fucking night.
Because deep down I’m not really all that wild. Deep down I want a man to cherish me. Appreciate me.
Want me.
It sucks. I want to be able to use them and throw them away without a second thought.
Like it seems Hawk did with me.
It’s fine. It’s what I wanted to want too.
Only I realized real quick it wasn’t true.
Felicity studies me for a second longer. “You like to dance?”
“Fuckin’ love it.” The waiter brings me the drink I’m not needing quite as much as I did a few minutes ago. I’m going to drink it anyway. And maybe another one.
Because I might not need to drink to deal with Felicity, but I still need to soften the blow of Hawk walking out on me Sunday morning. Not a goodbye. Not a look back.
Not a call.
Nothing.
Because he can be unattached.
Good for him.
He can do it with someone else.
The thought makes my stomach burn so I swallow down more of my Bloody Mary, trying to drown the edge of jealousy biting at my insides. You can take the girl out of the church but it looks like you can’t always take the church out of the girl.
Maybe it’s because monogamy was banged into my head every second of my formative years.
Then again so was abstinence.
Not doing that.
“You alright?” Becca’s squinting at me.
Oh no. She’s not setting her sights on my issues. “I’m fantastic.” I smile at Felicity, reminding Becca who she should really be focusing her analytical senses on. “You guys want to meet at my house at nine?”
Felicity tips her chin up just a little and gives me a long, appraising look. She sucks in a deep breath.
“Fine.” She sips at her water. “But you better be fun.”
Oh girl.
You have no idea.
****
“YOU LOOK HOT.” Felicity looks a little too surprised by the revelation that I can hold my own in the looks department. “What size do you wear?”
“You’re not borrowing my shit.” I smooth down the sides of the skintight neon yellow dress I fished out of my closet. It’s one of my favorites and I haven’t worn it in forever. Haven’t had the chance to. Kerri was my clubbing cohort.
Then she went and got all up Evan’s butt and ditched me.
She didn’t really ditch me. Her idea of fun just shifted.
And tamed down. Maybe that’s why I’ve been feeling bored. Kerri used to be my daily dose of crazy. The person I could get a little wild with.
And somehow getting with a biker has calmed her down.
Makes no fucking sense.
That’s alright. I might have found a new crazy partner.
As long as I can resist the urge to kill her.
Felicity reaches over to smack at Becca’s hands as she tugs at the hem of the dress she’s wearing.
Actually the dress is wearing her. It’s a great red number with a high-cut neckline and three-quarter sleeves that make you think it’s reserved.
If you don’t look at the length and she doesn’t turn around.
The back is gone. Like, cut down to almost the crack of her ass, gone.
Hawk Wild (Lost Boys MC Book 2) Page 6