Jase

by MariaLisa deMora

  His hands moved, sliding up her arms, the backs of his fingers brushing against the outer curve of her breasts and her breath stuttered in her chest. God. She hadn’t been touched in so long. “Be open to love,” he whispered, slipping his hands back down slowly, leisurely…unknowingly caressing her. Her chin tipped up and she gasped softly, shivering. “That’s all I’m asking, Dee. Be open to love.”

  He stepped back, releasing her, and she drew a deep breath. Without turning around, she nodded once and walked towards the bike.

  ***

  Five hours later, their group of nearly sixty bikes pulled into the alley separating Mason’s and Mica’s homes. DeeDee followed the lead of the rider in front of her, backing into the first available parking space. She got the kickstand down just in time; her legs were threatening to collapse on her as she struggled to balance the top-heavy bike. She sat for a moment, black leather boots resting on the foot pegs as she straddled the bike. Smiling, she fell into memories about this bike, Winger’s prize possession, one made specifically for him by Bear, the genius behind the club’s custom motorcycle business.

  Winger had been one of the first members to receive one of Bear’s bikes after the Rebels and Baugh brothers had partnered together. He had been puffed-up, proud to show it off and explain the modifications, usually stroking the paint job on the tank while he did so. She reached down and patted the tank, smiling. Same as the patch sewn onto the back of the leather cut he had worn everywhere, the tank’s paint job incorporated the club’s emblem. The difference was here it was imposed on top of a background of stars and constellations, telling everyone the club was his world. There were tiny letters running around the edges of the painted patch replica. She traced Lockee’s and her names, along with the names of the men Winger had counted as his most trusted brothers, like Bingo and Tugboat.

  She remembered how excited he was to ride it home from Chicago. Melanie rode with him, while Lockee was pillion behind Bear. The girls had talked about that trip for months. Lockee had been thrilled her dad had trusted someone enough to let her ride with them, and speechless it was an older man as good-looking as Bear. DeeDee laughed quietly to herself. She had accidentally seen him in all his naked glory one morning, much to Winger’s chagrin. He had named the man that day, saying he was as big as a bear, and the club name had stuck.

  Still trembling from the strain of the long ride and wanting to rest another few minutes, she pulled her legs up, crossing them to balance on top of the seat. She sat, looking out at the chaos that was a biker party in near-full swing. Frowning at the many faces she didn’t recognize, there were suits in the crowd, along with a lot of citizens. To compound things further, she saw there were patches she didn’t know, indicating multiple clubs were present. Oh, hell, she thought in a rising panic, I didn’t even bring my ‘Property of’ rag.

  In her rush to leave, she had forgotten her leather vest at home with the patch and rocker that said ‘Property of Winger’. Usually, she would wear it at all club functions, but since she hadn’t been going to any events or worn the vest in so long, it slipped her mind when she was packing. The oversight now meant she would be dependent on the Rebel members who knew her to keep her safe, since she wouldn’t be wearing any outward declaration of her affiliation. Shit, shit, shit.

  She saw there were a few women already here, which made her feel a little better, but she might very well just stay on this bike all night. Few men would approach her here, assuming she would be sitting on her old man’s bike. Which I am, she thought sadly.

  She jumped, nearly falling off the motorcycle, when a large, warm hand settled at the small of her back. “Pretty lady,” she heard and turned to find Tug standing beside her. “Time to rise and shine, beautiful.” He smiled at her, warmth in his eyes and love evident on his face, his hand urging her to get off the bike, steadying her as she stood. “I’ve got you, DeeDee. Ain’t nobody gonna mess with you.”

  He reached up, taking her chin in hand and turning her face so she could see the circle of men surrounding them. “We’ve all got you, pretty lady. Ain’t nobody gonna bother you unless you welcome that botheration.” She was surrounded by men dressed in jeans and patch-covered black leather, and plain henleys or tees with crude sayings under their cuts. She saw bearded faces and ones that were clean shaven, hands covered in silver rings or fingerless gloves. On each of the faces turned towards her, she also saw the same look of love that Tug wore, lips curling up at the corners, eyes crinkling, cheeks creasing in good-natured smiles. For her. They were all here…for her.

  She smiled, overwhelmed with emotion, and he must have recognized this, because he leaned in, gently kissing her cheek, that damn mustache tickling her skin and making her laugh a little. Music played nearby, and she barely had time to recognize Sugarland’s Already Gone before Tug gave her a little push then grabbed her hand, pulling and twirling her back in towards him, holding and swaying with her for a moment.

  Before she knew what was happening, he had passed her hand off to another member, who whirled her around a time or two then gave her willingly to someone else. She knew all these men, trusted each of them with her life, and so now, she confidently gave herself over to their dance. Taking as much as they were prepared to give, she moved from hand to hand around and across the circle with a smile, spinning from embrace to embrace. She ended the dance laughing, bent backwards into a deep dip in Bingo’s arms. He dropped his head, gently kissing the tip of her nose as he echoed what Tug had said to her. “We got you.”

  Together

  It would be another couple of hours before Mason and Mica would pull in, and even though a lot of people had already shown up, she knew there were still more to come. While they all waited for the guest of honor to arrive, everyone milled around, getting drinks from the kegs and food from the grill, using the time to catch up and visit with old friends. She saw Kathy, one of the girls who hung around the Chicago clubhouse, and walked over to chat.

  Kathy was here with Digger, one of the Chicago Rebels, and it was cute the way the girl blushed when she talked about him. DeeDee’s throat tightened at the now-familiar sense of loss that swept over her. It happened every time she encountered a facet of life Lockee would never be able to experience. Lockee never had a boyfriend. Not like this. Not like Kathy, sweetly coloring at Digger’s name, her eyes and mouth softening into a loving expression.

  Her daughter had frequently dated, but Winger was hard on the boys. Too hard, and few of them came back for a second round of his brand of inquisition. Kathy’s sweet smile was good to see, and when her tall, fit biker walked up, wrapping his arms around her, she leaned into him trustingly, tipping her lips up for a kiss. He acknowledged DeeDee with a smile and a wink, ducking his head shyly to nuzzle into Kathy’s hair.

  Strolling away from the young couple, she spotted another Chicago member nearby at the grill and walked over to give the big man a hug. “Hey, Road Runner,” she said, tiptoeing up to kiss the cheek of one of her favorites. “How’re you doing?”

  He held her with one arm, studiously attending to the ribs on the grill with the other before pulling the lid closed and turning to her. His attention to the food didn’t surprise her; he was a Cordon Bleu-trained chef, working in the five-star restaurant at the hotel where she would be spending the next couple of nights. She laughed aloud when he wrapped both arms around her, picking her up off the ground in a rambunctious hug.

  “Damn woman, you feel good. Love you, girl,” he said as he sat her back on her feet and then his brows drew down into a scowl. “Except you’re skin and fucking bones. That just isn’t acceptable. Damn it, am I gonna have to move to the Fort to feed you?”

  She shook her head and smiled, deftly sidestepping his comment about her appearance. It was one she was getting tired of hearing. “It’s good to see you, big guy. Thanks for getting the rooms. I was glad to hear I wouldn’t be staying at the clubhouse tonight.”

  “Aww, hell naw,” he said. “No way in hell yo
u need to be there. You know how crazy things can get.” He gave a jerk of his head, saying, “Myron has the info. He was up on Mica’s back porch last time I saw him.” She smiled, reaching up to cup his face in her palm, tiptoeing again to kiss him goodbye on the cheek.

  She made her way slowly across the backyard, frequently stopping to greet friends, as was her nature, more often with kisses and hugs than handshakes. Smiling, she eventually mounted the steps to the porch, finding Tug standing there with Slate and Myron. Pulling Slate into a hard hug, she nestled her face into his chest for a minute, feeling his laughter as a vibration through her body. She was glad to see the man here; he always made her feel safe. He had been patched into the Chicago chapter for more than a decade and had turned into one of her favorite members.

  Reaching out, she tousled Myron’s hair, asking with laughter in her voice, “Hey, Myron. Did GeeMa get you set-up yet? I heard she keeps finding beautiful girls for you back in Wyoming.” It was a running joke that Slate’s grandmother liked Myron, the club’s Treasurer, but she wanted him to settle down. And by ‘settle down’, she meant in her hometown out west with a young woman of whom she approved, so whether at church or bingo, she was always on the lookout for potential matches.

  He moved his head out from under her hand, but grinned as he reached into his back pocket, pulling out two room keys. Ignoring her question, he told her, “You’re in a nice suite at The Admiral, DeeDee. Room seven-twelve. I want you to order room service at least twice a day while you’re here. Don’t go skimping, okay? Road Runner said he expects to see you for his lunch shift, but make sure you eat, sweetie. You’re too thin. There’s bike parking in the garage near the elevator, and they’ve got good security, so you shouldn’t have to worry about anything.”

  She accepted the keys from him with a raised eyebrow. “Okay, thanks. But, two keys?”

  He shrugged. “It’s what they gave me. We have a few more rooms reserved, but they’re scattered on different floors, so you won’t be close to anyone you’ll know. If you have any trouble, call someone. You have my number. Be sure to call me if you need me, okay?”

  Nodding, she slipped an arm around his waist, hugging him tight and dropping a kiss on his cheek. “Okie dokie. Thanks.”

  Tug reached out, pulling on the waistband of her chaps, reminding her she hadn’t yet taken time to remove her leathers. Stepping backwards into his hold, she relaxed, leaning into him. “You’re sure hugging and kissing on a whole lot of men, DeeDee,” he murmured.

  “They’re my boys,” she laughed with a broad smile. “I love my boys; they are all such nice guys.”

  Cryptically, he said, “I don’t think he likes it much. And I know for sure he doesn’t like this.” He patted her hip, sliding his hand around and possessively spreading his palm across her stomach for a moment. She tensed. His fingers were warm and the pressure comfortable, nearly stretching down far enough to reach...

  With his other hand, he reached up, taking her chin with his fingers as he had earlier and directed her gaze to the crowd near Mason’s garage, where a group of Daniel’s friends had gathered around his two brothers. Her throat closed, trapping her breath in her chest for a moment as her eyes met smoldering, dark brown ones. Jase was staring across the crowd at her.

  He looked furious; she wasn’t sure why for a moment until Tug stepped back, dropping his arms from around her. The strain on Jase’s face eased slightly and he padded across the space between them, dodging around individuals and couples without seeming to notice them, eyes only for her.

  “There you go,” she distantly heard Tug say and felt a little push on her ass, absently reaching back to swat the hand away. She couldn’t take her eyes off Jase. Something about the look on his face held her captive.

  There was a short laugh and then strong hands picked her up by the waist, lifting her over the railing and setting her on the ground next to the porch, bypassing the stairs. Jase didn’t stop his advance until he was close enough to reach out and cup her face in his large, callused hands, leaning in without hesitation to cover her mouth softly with his own.

  The noises around them fell away; it seemed as if she couldn’t hear anything except her own pounding heartbeat and the sound his fingertips made when he stroked her jawline, rasping against her skin. She gave herself into the kiss entirely, reveling in the sensations of his lips against hers, the roughness of his short beard against her skin. He glided his tongue across her bottom lip and then dipped it into her mouth to tangle with her own, the unabashed sensuality of the kiss stealing her breath.

  Too soon, his lips drew away, the heat of his hands still blazing against her cheeks. When DeeDee’s eyes slowly opened, she saw he had a look on his face difficult to categorize, but if pressed, she might have said it was satisfaction. When she was in town previously, they had never gone past chaste kisses on the cheek, or a friendly arm draped around shoulders or waist. They certainly never kissed like this, with the toe-curling passion she just experienced. Short of breath, she smiled uncertainly up at him, her lips trembling. He was so handsome, with deep brown soulful eyes, and sensuous lips framed with a soft beard.

  “Hey, DeeDee,” he said, still looking down at her, thumbs stroking across her cheekbones. His eyes roamed from her eyes to her lips, down to her breasts and back to her lips, his tongue darting out to tap against his top one, finally smiling as she gasped. “I missed you.”

  He looked up, over her head, and gave a chin lift. “Tug.” Tipping his face to the side slightly, he said, “Slate.”

  She heard Tug call her name and turned as he said, “I got you, pretty lady. You need me, let me know. I got you.” Nodding, she stumbled when Jase tugged on her hand, pulling her towards him. Putting her hands on his chest to halt her fall, she drew up hard at the look that crossed his face when she touched him. Hunger and desire warred there, raw and shocking.

  He closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath, obviously composing himself before he opened them to stare at her again. “Let’s walk,” he suggested, pulling her hand up and kissing across the backs of her knuckles.

  “Okay,” she agreed easily, swinging into place beside him, comfortably wrapping one arm around his waist as he laid his across her shoulders. She would often walk with Winger like this, and out of habit, she tucked her fingers into his back pocket.

  As they moved into the crowd, she suddenly became conscious of eyes on them. Everywhere she looked, there were Rebel members watching, tracking their progress. Abruptly uncomfortable, she sidestepped a little, dislodging his arm from her shoulders and dropping hers from his waist as she moved away. Glancing backwards, she saw two Rebels were walking not five feet behind, pacing them stride-for-stride. Oh, God, she thought frantically, wondering, what if they think I'm disrespectful to Winger’s memory? What will they do?

  Jase reached out and reclaimed her hand, using it to pull her closer to his side. “What’s wrong, DeeDee?” He asked her the question with a quizzical tilt of his head, looking sweet and charming. She smiled and shook her head, opening her mouth to answer him when she heard her name from the side.

  “DeeDee, we got you, babe. You want this botheration?” This came from Hoss, one of her dancing partners from earlier in the evening. She was sure he had used Tug’s words intentionally, the repetition reminding her of the previous conversation.

  She turned to face him, and lifting her chin with confidence she didn’t feel, she said, “It’s all good, thanks.” He and the Chicago Rebel standing with him nodded, moving another few feet away, but keeping a close watch on her in spite of her reassurances.

  Jase set his back to a tree and pulled her closer, nestling her into his chest, her back to his front. He rested his chin on her shoulder, tilting his head to look back and forth between the several groups of Rebel members obviously keeping an eye on them both.

  “Something I need to know, DeeDee?” His tone was questioning, but not concerned or afraid, and she snorted softly. If their roles were reversed and
she had this many big, powerfully built bikers staring daggers at her, she would be petrified.

  Taking a deep breath, she blew it out slowly, trying to choose her words carefully, but distracted by an acute awareness of his arms crossed over her chest, his hands curving around her sides. “No, nothing to worry about, Jase. They’re just overprotective tonight. We have a bunch of members from different chapters here, plus a lot of other clubs as well. I forgot my rag at home, so they’re all just making sure I’m safe.”

  As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she could have chewed her tongue bloody for speaking so freely. Now she knew she would have to turn away his questions about what a rag was, and why she might not be safe, and what the different clubs had to do with each other. All of which would be hard to explain without going into a lot of detail. She could claim club business, and that generic umbrella might deflect his inquiries. After all, he likely would never realize women were exempt from even knowing what was going on most of the time.

  He surprised her, however, nodding slowly, rubbing his cheek against hers. Nuzzling the side of her neck, he dropped a series of hard, sucking kisses on the column of her throat, running his nose up behind her ear and earning a giggle from her. “There,” he said proudly, pulling back to look at her neck. “Now everyone will know you’re taken.” He nuzzled her ear again, adding, “By me.”

  Oh, my God, did he just give me hickeys? She hadn’t had a hickey since she was in her mid-twenties, and even back then, it was only funny for about five minutes. This was going to piss her off. He didn’t miss the tension that flooded her body and snickered at the reaction. She twisted her head to look up at him and saw wry humor in his face. “No, I didn’t,” was all he said before laughing again. “But I had you worried and made you forget about the attentive audience for a half a minute.”