Forbidden Rider: A Lost Saxons Novel #5

by Ames, Jessica

  Freud would love us. We’re practically a case study on how parents can screw up their children beyond all recognition. Neither one of us has healthy relationships—although at least I know this. I don’t know if Josh is aware.

  It makes me quietly cautious of getting close to Josh because of our own history, because of the shit my parents have done to me over the years, but also determined this time not to let him push me away again. Why? Because I’m desperate for a connection with him, and I think he needs this as much as I do. Josh has never had anyone, and I know he has the Club, but it’s not the same as having blood family.

  This means I fear any little action I do might push him away again. It’s a terrible tightrope I’m balancing with him, terrified I might fall at any moment. Maybe coming here, trying to rekindle something with him, was a stupid mistake, but Josh is all I have to cling to. Don’t get me wrong, if he wasn’t trying, I would be long gone, but Josh is giving back in his own way, and it’s that which keeps me here. He wants to be a big brother. He just doesn’t know how yet. Maybe, just maybe, I can teach him this time.

  “I know you’re not,” I respond quietly to his statement.

  “Piper, I’m not going anywhere, period.”

  And I don’t think he’s talking about his health anymore. I shift on the chair, unsure how to answer. Is he giving me an assurance he won’t walk away this time? I don’t know that I can take that from him or believe it, as much as I want to. I don’t think he can promise something that he isn’t sure he can deliver himself yet.

  Even so, I answer, “I know you’re not.” I say it because I think he needs to believe I believe it.

  Seemingly satisfied, he pulls his eyes from me to the ceiling and scratches at the edge of the gauze taped to his side from the surgery he had earlier in the week, the surgery that led to the infection that landed him back in the ICU for a brief spell before he was moved a few hours ago to a high dependency unit.

  I resist the urge to smack his hand away.

  “The doctor told you not to mess with your stitches.” I ignore how wobbly I sound. God, do not have a breakdown in front of him. That is a sure-fire way to have him push back.

  “I’m not messing with them,” he grouses.

  “You’re worse than a child,” I chastise, grateful to be onto another topic.

  My phone vibrates on the small table next to me. Bugger. I should have turned it off. The nurses are strict about the no-phone policy up here. I’m just about to hit the power button when I notice it’s a text from Grant.

  Great.

  I quickly open it and read the message. It’s a list of engagements he needs me to attend over the next couple of months for the start of his election campaign trail.

  Crap. I forgot how insane he gets during an election year. I knew about the photo shoot, but there’s about six different events listed on this message—two black tie events, a magazine spread about our family and a couple of other interviews.

  Is he crazy?

  I’m not doing all this. I have my own life—one that does not revolve around him getting re-elected, which I’m sure he can manage without painting a picture-perfect family, which we absolutely do not have. My parents haven’t even noticed I haven’t been in town for nearly five weeks. Even if we were close, I wouldn’t partake this closely in my stepfather’s career. I’m twenty-five, for God’s sake, not a child, and I’m busy. Okay, currently I’m running around Yorkshire with an outlaw motorcycle club, but that’s not the point.

  “Bad news?”

  I raise my head and see Josh is looking right at me. Of course now his eyes are open.

  “No, everything’s fine.”

  I shut down my phone and stuff it back in my bag, feeling a weight in my stomach as I force a smile.

  “You don’t seem fine.”

  “You’re the one with paint-stripping antibiotics being pumped into your body and you’re asking if I’m okay?”

  He stares at me, unperturbed by my attempt to brush him off. “Piper?”

  “Honestly, Josh, I’m fine. I’m just tired.”

  “Yeah, I can see you’re tired. You’re tired because you’re always here. I appreciate it, kid, but you need to ease off.”

  My stomach clenches unpleasantly. “You don’t want me here?”

  “I didn’t say that. I just don’t want you here at the expense of your own wellbeing. The docs are going to keep pumping this shit into me,” he nods his head up at the IV antibiotics. “I’m going to get some shut-eye. You should do the same.”

  I want to argue with him, but I’m exhausted and frankly, the thought of getting into bed sounds divine.

  “Okay.”

  He arches a brow. “No argument?”

  Rubbing at my neck, I shake my head. “I’m dead on my feet, Josh. Even I know when to admit defeat.”

  “Ask one of the lads to take you home. They won’t mind.”

  “I know they won’t.”

  I’m more than certain they won’t since Jem put a ban on me using taxis while I’m in town. Only Club approved rides are allowed. I have no idea if Jem’s still here, but since he’s blacklisted me from both taxi firms in town, he can drag his backside here and take me home if he’s not.

  “Will you send a nurse in on the way out?” Josh asks as I start to gather my things together.

  “Are you in pain?”

  He gives me a smile that is tight. “I’m fine. Just send one in, yeah?”

  I frown at him, but come to the edge of the bed. Grabbing his hand, I give it a squeeze.

  “I’m glad you’re okay,” I tell him. “You gave me a fright today.”

  He squeezes back. “I’m good, Piper.”

  “I think good might be overstating it, but you’re doing better than I was expecting.”

  “Get yourself home, yeah?”

  After saying my goodbyes, I head out of his room and I’m surprised to find Jem sitting in one of the chairs in the corridor. He glances up when I step out.

  “I didn’t realise you were still here,” I say, moving towards him.

  “It didn’t feel right leaving you here alone.” He juts his chin towards the room. “How’s he doing?”

  “He’s surprisingly chipper. I thought he would be a lot more out of it. He’s tired, though, I can tell the infection is taking a toll on him.”

  “He sent you packing?” he guesses as he pushes to his feet, straightening his kutte as he does.

  He looms over me as he comes to his full height and I have to tip my head back to meet his gaze.

  “That obvious?”

  “Well, you look like you’re about to fall down yourself, which I’m guessing Wade could see. You want to go home?”

  “Actually, I thought we could hit a bar, get tanked up.”

  He blinks at me. Then I watch, slightly mesmerised by the way his mouth moves into a grin. “Angel, did you just make a joke?”

  “I’m actually quite funny, you know when I’m not hanging out in hospitals.”

  Jem dips his head forward. “I think we’ll have to hang out a lot more for me to judge that.”

  My stomach somersaults at this statement. He wants to hang out? “Please, you can barely stand to be around me most of the time.”

  “Not true. I actually find your company refreshing, Pip. It’s a change from the usual empty-headed bimbos Weed and the others bring around the clubhouse.”

  I meet his gaze. “That’s not very nice, Jem.”

  “I know, but it’s true all the same. I like a woman with a little something about her.”

  We start to walk towards the lifts.

  “Maybe you should stop expecting Weed to find you dates.”

  “I don’t need anyone’s help to find me a woman.”

  Hearing him talking about being with someone strikes through me like fire. It shouldn’t. I have no claim to him, but it does.

  I give my focus to hitting the call button for the lift as I say, “No, I don’t imagine you d
o.”

  “Piper?”

  “What?”

  “Jealousy is a good look on you.”

  I jolt and twist to him. “I’m not jealous.”

  “It’s okay that you are, angel. I mean, I understand it. I’d be jealous, too.”

  The lift doors open and I step inside. “You are crazy.”

  “Babe, I’m a catch. Why wouldn’t you be insanely put out about the idea of me with other women?”

  I lean against the back of the lift and try to ignore him as he props himself next to me. Considering there is only us and one other couple in the carriage, I don’t know why he has to stand so close to me when he’s being so irritating.

  “I don’t know how any woman puts up with you for more than five seconds,” I hiss at him under my breath.

  He grins. “I have many talents that make my bad points worth putting up with.”

  I flush at the look he’s directing my way, and my eyes skitter past him to the couple in the lift with us. They are murmuring to each other, seemingly not paying attention to us—thank God.

  I elbow him in the ribs. “Stop it.”

  He leans towards me. “I can’t. You bring this out in me.”

  “I bring out the fifteen-year-old dirty teenage boy in you?”

  “You bring out many things in me, Piper, but it’s not a teenage boy.”

  The molten look in his eyes has me swallowing hard. His tone has shifted from playful banter to something different. He’s not playing any longer. The game between us has changed, only I no longer know what the rules are. Truthfully, the game has been shifting for a while now.

  The lift stops and the other couple disembark, leaving just Jem and me in the lift alone. I stand awkwardly, unsure if I should say something. As soon as the doors slide shut, he surprises the hell out of me by moving into my space. His hand goes to the back wall of the lift, just above my head, the other near to my hip and he leans into me, his chest nearly flush to mine. Our bodies are inches from each other, his mouth dipping close, so close I only need to roll slightly to my toes to capture it.

  I raise my gaze to meet his, unsure what he’s doing, my heart stuttering in my chest as I try to fathom what his next move will be. Right now, he looks like he’s considering devouring me whole, and this makes wetness pool between my legs and tingles rush to my pussy.

  He doesn’t touch me, but his fingers reach out, as if he wants to.

  “I shouldn’t even be thinking about you like this,” he murmurs as his eyes rove over my mouth, as if he’s contemplating taking it. He moves closer, so close his breath clouds against my chin. “Do you know the trouble I can get in just by having these thoughts?”

  My heart is hammering now.

  “Jem…”

  “Shit, Wade’ll gut me if I touch you, but I want you so much. Just a little taste…”

  He dips his head closer and his mouth moves nearer to mine.

  I hold my breath. He’s going to kiss me.

  Jem Harlow is going to kiss me… in a hospital lift… It’s not the most romantic place, but who cares? This sex god man is about to lay a hot, wet kiss on me.

  His lips feather across mine and my heart stops before it beats a staccato rhythm. I grip his forearms, grounding myself as my legs go wobbly and—

  The lift pings and the doors slide open.

  Reality crashes down around me.

  What the hell am I doing?

  How can I let him kiss me?

  Jem Harlow—a criminal biker, who makes money disappear, who runs rings around the police for fun, who makes my traitorous body take notice just by breathing in my space.

  A man who is also as close to my brother as blood and should, therefore, not even be on my radar. Especially given the strides I’m making with Josh and the tenuous ground those steps are being taken on.

  Panicked, I shove him back. I think surprise more than anything else has him go back on a foot as a handful of people step inside the lift from the lobby. Did they see us about to make out like teenagers? I quickly duck around them, lowering my head as my face heats and I make like a torpedo for the entrance. I’m not the girl who kisses men in hospital elevators. Especially men who are dressed like chaos.

  “Piper, wait!”

  I don’t. I keep walking. What is he doing trying to kiss me? Is he completely insane? He can’t kiss me. He’s my brother’s friend. He’s also a biker whose life is completely and irrevocably incompatible with mine.

  And I’m worried if I kiss him back, I’m going to want him, too.

  Fear drives my feet into a run. I make it to the hospital doors before I glance back and see he’s still stuck navigating the busy stream of people all leaving the grounds. I’m surprisingly fast when I need to be, and I don’t think he expected this. I’ve done my share of running away over the years, though. I’m an expert at fleeing scenes. Head down, I manage to double back on myself and lose him in the crowd of visitors.

  Knowing I can’t get a cab home, no thanks to Jem’s antics, I walk the fifteen-minute car ride, which takes me three times longer on foot, my head a minefield of colliding thoughts—first and foremost, what on earth do I do about Jem Harlow trying to kiss me?

  More importantly, what do I do about the fact that I’m disappointed he didn’t succeed?

  Chapter Eleven

  When I approach the flat, I know I’m in trouble. There’s a Harley parked outside the kerb underneath the streetlight, the kickstand down, the headlight off, but even under the fluorescent lamp, I know it’s Jem’s. Even if I didn’t recognise the motorcycle, there is no mistaking the hulking man leaning against it, and he looks a tad annoyed.

  Bugger.

  During my trek home from the hospital—or my cowardly fleeing from the scene of the ‘incident’—Jem tried to call me repeatedly. I had no idea what to say to him. Mostly because I was a mix of boiling mad and completely confused.

  Did I lead him on somehow?

  Did I make this situation happen?

  Did I want this situation to happen?

  Yes… I absolutely wanted it. When he leaned in and I felt his mouth against mine, for the briefest moment, I was elated. My heart soared, my head sang, my stomach flipped.

  How could that ever be wrong?

  But then reality hit me the moment the lift doors opened.

  Kissing Jem would never be right. If Josh knew, it would upset him.

  It’s an unwritten rule—you do not go there with your siblings’ friends. Ever. Would I be angry if I caught Josh and Cami kissing? Well, in truth Cami could steal the moon and I would forgive her, but Josh is not like me. He seems to have fairly traditional ideas about things, and our relationship is already so complicated without adding in another level of complication in the form of a six-foot-three giant called Jem Harlow.

  I know I shouldn’t have, but after I fled from the hospital, I turned my phone off. I couldn’t face speaking to Jem. What could I say? I’m sorry you didn’t get to kiss me, but I wish you had even though it would have been completely wrong?

  Now, I’m regretting that decision. I should have spoken to him and told him to leave me alone—at least until I’ve had a chance to work through my thoughts on the matter. Him sitting on my doorstep looking for all intents and purposes like a furious behemoth is not welcome. I don’t have the energy to deal with him tonight, nor the head space. I need to work through what I’m feeling, and I don’t think he’s going to give me that time.

  What did I expect, though? Jem to just slink off quietly to lick his wounds after I rejected him? It’s not really his style.

  What I should do is get the hell out of the blast zone. He’s about to explode. If his eyes were not locked onto mine, I would.

  But I don’t want to run again. I’m exhausted, and the stubborn part of my brain refuses to back down. I didn’t do anything wrong. It wasn’t me trying to kiss him in a hospital elevator. It wasn’t me pushing boundaries. He’s the one in the wrong here, not me. He’s the one w
ho needs to apologise, not me.

  Even so, I feel like a fifteen-year-old coming home late to face my parents’ wrath.

  But I’m not fifteen. I’m an adult and I don’t have to answer to Jem.

  Steeling myself, I hoist my bag up my shoulder and head towards him.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “Inside,” he snaps.

  Oh yeah, he’s angry.

  “What?”

  “Unless you want to do this in the middle of the street.”

  I absolutely do not, although I’m not keen on having a pissed off Jem in the flat either.

  When I hesitate, he takes the decision out of my hands by moving towards the front door of the flat.

  I watch him for a moment before trailing after him.

  I guess we’re doing this now.

  I do owe him an explanation, and possibly an apology of sorts although I’m not sure what I need to apologise for—running, ignoring him or rebuffing him.

  Without a word, I dig my keys out of my bag and with fumbling fingers, I unlock the door. He doesn’t speak either and the tension between us is horrendous. I want to say something, anything, but I don’t know what. I realise my behaviour, in hindsight, was childish, but I don’t know how to broach it with him either when he’s clearly so steaming mad at me.

  He doesn’t speak a word as we get inside the flat. Nor does he say anything as I shrug out of my jacket, hanging it on the hook near the door. By the time I’ve divested myself of my handbag and shoes, I’m out of things to do and feeling stripped bare to him.

  Standing near the front door, I stare at him as he waits in the middle of the living room, his back to me. What he’s waiting for, I don’t know, but I can hardly draw air as I wait for him to do something.

  Finally, he tips his head towards the ceiling and lets out a long-suffering breath.

  “After you ran off into the dark and didn’t answer a single one of my calls or texts to tell me you were okay, I spent nearly half an hour riding around town looking for you, sure that you’d been abducted or hurt.” I wince at the quiet rage in his tone. “When I calmed down enough to think rationally, I figured you’d eventually have to come home, so I came here to wait for you. And lo and behold—” He holds his arms out at his side. “Here you are.”