by Debra Kayn
Along with the warmth filling her from the inside out, her body trembled around him as if grasping and pulling him closer than two humans thought possible. He was an addiction, and she'd gone too long without having the connection that only he brought her. This messed up connection with him that muddled her thoughts and tied her tighter to him.
He wasn't like other men. He was better.
"You're wet for me," he whispered.
She dug her fingernails into the leather of his cut, bracing herself against his powerful strokes. "Only for you."
He grunted. His hips moved faster, his cock sank deep within her with each stroke. She locked her ankles behind his thighs and pulled up to meet each thrust. His movements took on a sporadic urgency, driving her wild. Her sex pulsed, taking her own arousal higher. She pulled herself closer, wrapping her arms around his neck.
Her breasts rubbed against his shirt. Her lower stomach constricted. Undulating her body, she took and took, reaching for more. He pushed her against the mattress with his weight, adding friction between their bodies. She panted, grasping for the high that was tottering on the edge of consciousness, and then it was there and everything paused.
She stiffened, catapulted into an orgasm. Her muscles spasmed, squeezing his cock, and he growled his own climax in her ear. She continued to hold on to him, and he let her.
When her breathing slowed and she came back to reality, the truth of what was happening between them again settled inside of her tenfold. She shivered. Fear returned as it always did.
"Crystal?" He propped himself up on his elbows, taking his weight from her, and ultimately slipped out of her body. "We've got a big problem."
She nodded, knowing it was true. The trouble following her would infiltrate the club and bring more attention on them. She had to leave and this time, she predicted he'd let her walk away.
Chapter Four
Crystal shut the door to the upstairs bedroom and carried the stack of clothes to the bed. Raul leaned against the dresser, ankles crossed, arms crossed, mood crossed, not saying a word. After he'd made a few necessary phone calls to secure Crystal's location at the club, he'd put word out that she needed clothes. A few of the other women who belonged to the Lagsturns members brought a collection of clothes her size up to the room.
He'd recognized the hidden hostility aimed at Crystal by the women. Not that it was much different before he'd kicked her out of the club the last time. Something about her set off other females. He thought it was jealousy, maybe misrepresentation because Crystal never went out of her way to fit in and seemed aloof to their offer of friendship. He knew a different side of her. She was a warm woman seeking the contact of others, but came across independent and snobby.
Two of the women who brought the clothes—Big Joe's woman Theresa and Duck's woman Jolene, were the closest to her. Though when they delivered the sacks of clothing, both girls glared at Crystal without saying a word. He knew what they were thinking though.
What was Crystal doing back with their president? Where had she been?
He'd give them no answers, and owed them nothing. During the time after he'd made love to Crystal, he'd given her time to take a shower and get her head in the right place. Now it was time to talk.
Crystal dropped the clothes, quickly pulled off Raul's T-shirt he'd let her wear after her shower. Without rifling through the stack, she pulled out a pair of panties, a tank, and shimmied into a pair of cutoffs. At five foot eight inches, she met Raul almost eye to eye with her four-inch heels on her feet. His gaze ran the length of her body. She was the perfect size for him.
Whether in bed or taking her up against a wall, they matched. He curled his fingers into his palm, knowing if he stroked her back the heat from her body would set him on fire.
Her blonde hair, now dried and already messed, hid her bare shoulders as if she had climbed out of his bed moments ago, rather than walked out of the bathroom moments ago. She'd found some of her makeup still in the drawer in the john, because she came out with her hazel eyes lined with black and her red lips pursed.
Those same eyes, so light green when her emotions were high, burned him every time she looked his way. He hardened again, thinking about her full breasts squished against him and her lips moaning his name. He'd never reacted to a woman the way he did with her. Their time apart didn't lessen his response to her.
He had a job to do, and she complicated matters. A job that was life or death with no middle ground.
She patted her hips. "Thanks again for having the girls bring me some clothes."
"That's what the club does. We look out for each other," he said.
Her lips firmed and she shrugged. "Since I don't really belong to you or anyone in the MC, I'll take it for what it was…charity. But, I still appreciate the donations. It'll save me money—she whirled around, one hand going to her head. "God dammit. I didn't have my purse on me when you took me out of the lounge. Shit. That scumbag Dean probably already stole the money out of my purse, if the girls at the lounge hadn't gotten to it yet."
"I'll give you money."
Her gaze turned to him. "All of it? I saved over three thousand dollars."
His chest tightened. "Dancing obviously pays well…"
"Yes." She crossed her arms. "It wasn't what—"
Rage boiled inside of him. Vicious— kill the bastards who paid her to dance— anger flooded his head. His muscles constricted from head to toe. He picked up the chair and sailed it across the room, smashing it against the wall. He stood, breathing hard, powerless and blind to his actions, wanting to hurt someone, hurt himself, hurt the assholes who only saw her as a body to jerk off to when they got home.
Even watching the wood splinter apart did nothing to relief the frustration over what he'd done to her.
Crystal flinched. An attitude-filled gasp burst from her mouth. He had no right to be angered over what she did for a living, but he owned his contributions to putting her in the position of having to work in a lounge, selling her body.
"How many men have you screwed for that money?" He coughed, trying to expand his constricted lungs, and practically spit the words out at her. "Answer me."
She glared. The skin around her mouth turned white from her pursed lips, holding all her anger inside.
"Or what?" she shouted. "Will you throw me against the wall next?"
He reeled back another step and shook his head. "Have I ever raised my hand to you?"
Her indignation flowed out of her spin away from him. Not once had he ever directed his frustrations out on her. Even when he kicked her out of the club, he'd done it with more calm than he'd felt inside. He had a job to do, and had pushed her away for her own good.
He backed away. It wasn't her fault, but her actions cut deep.
Though she'd never know his reasons why he let her go. He couldn't trust anyone with his identity. It wasn't a question of when he could tell her. He had a lifetime job that needed to stay hidden forever. He was okay with that at the time of going undercover. He never expected to meet Crystal or any other woman who'd have him second-guessing his choices.
"No," she said. "You've never physically hurt me."
He stepped toward her. "Let's get something straight. You're with me now. I don't want to hear about any men from your past or what you've done since you went to Palm Springs. No names, no stories, no words. Starting right now, nobody exists to you, but me."
"I thought I was leaving?" She thrust her fingers in her hair and pushed the strands out of her face.
"How did you come to that conclusion? I said you were staying here." He lifted her hand, pressed her palm to his heart, and continued. "I made a mistake pushing you out and into the arms of Cramwell. It was my fault that you were out there on your own, kills me, mi vida. I want to hurt every man who looked at you."
She shook her head. "I never slept with Ethan."
Raul's body hardened. "You don't have to—"
"I didn't sleep with Ethan, Raul. I'm not
lying. I never kissed, touched, or fucked him. He used me, and I guess I used him back by making sure I had somewhere to stay. He was messed up. Never, not once, did we have a sexual relationship. Half the time he couldn't walk across the room without stumbling into furniture, high out of his mind. Even if he would've tried to push himself on me, I could've defended myself." She bolstered forward. "I danced in Palm Springs, but never went to the back rooms where women were paid to service men. I'm a good dancer, and the tips were big. That's all. There's been nobody else since you. I swear on my life."
"No?" he whispered, his gaze softening, needing to know the answer. Until now, he hadn't realized how important it was to know she belonged to him.
She shook her head. "It's always been you for me. I've told you that before and it hasn't changed. You're the one who let me go," she whispered back.
He hooked her neck and brought her closer. "I knew after I was voted into the president's chair, there would be some who pushed the boundaries. I didn't want you caught in the middle of club business. Things have been rough, mi vida. Just wanted you safe. Didn't want to let you go."
She lifted her gaze. "Really?"
He nodded, kissing her hard. "Really."
"I can stay then?" she asked, tightening her arms around him as if she planned to leave kicking and screaming if he answered no. He loved that about her.
The passion she showed him usually overrode her insecurities that others were used to seeing. When she let him have everything she felt, he only wanted more and more. She had a soul full of emotions she gave him freely every time he planted himself between her legs.
"Yeah." He inhaled deeply. "We need to be smart. Things are edgy at the club. From here on out, you're with me. I'm talking with me, do you understand? No more running around, doing your own thing, and trying to save your own ass. Your ass is mine. Only mine. You have to listen and when I say you're staying in, you stay in without question until I tell you otherwise."
"Promise." She smiled, and he had a hard time not believing her.
He couldn't help the laughter that came from deep inside of him. Trouble followed her everywhere, and half the time he'd swear she created her own drama to keep life interesting.
"Thank you." She threw her arms around him.
He held her to him, rubbing her back, enjoying having his woman in his life again. She leaned her head back and frowned.
"What's wrong?" he asked.
She looked up into his face. "What happened to your arm? You didn't have that scar when we were together last time."
He kissed her upturned nose. "Met the wrong side of a gun."
"What?" She pushed his sleeve all the way up his arm and trailed her finger over the puckered scar. "Shit, baby. Are you okay?"
He pulled away and tugged at his shirt. "Yeah."
"Yeah? Yeah? That's all you're going to tell me?" She followed him across the room. "You can't shrug it off like it was a bruise from…from working on your bike. You were shot. Who shot you?"
He opened the door and motioned her out into the hall. "Club business. Don't ask, don't question, and don't talk about it."
She glared and squeezed past him. He eyed her, expecting her to argue and demand he tell her the truth. Halfway down the stairs, he grinned. She might make him a good old lady yet.
Chapter Five
In the kitchen area off the main lobby downstairs at the club, Jolene and Theresa stood watch over the ground hamburger sizzling in the fry pan. Crystal fingered the edge of the counter, doing nothing because Jolene talked quietly with Theresa at the stove, completely ignoring her. If they wanted to make her feel like an enemy in their ranks, they'd succeeded.
At one time, they'd been friends, club sisters. They'd often go grocery shopping together for the club, watch a chick flick when the men were riding, and hang out while the members sequestered themselves around the table discussing business. They'd bonded in the way college roommates pretended to like each other. As if in a year or two, they'd go their separate ways, never to see each other again.
But she came back to the Lagsturns, not under her own power. None the less, she was here and they'd have to deal. She was the president's woman, and that meant they had to listen to her, and she didn't have to put up with their bullshit.
Normally, she approved of the hierarchy because it forced her to stand up for herself as his woman. The others looked to her for guidance and support, and she enjoyed the role.
They'd have to accept her eventually and when they did, she probably wasn't going to like what they said. They were protective of their president. She understood, because Raul was her main concern too. She'd have to demand respect or be miserable.
Jolene pulled her wide scoop necked T-shirt up more on her shoulder and lifted her gaze. Her brown eyes, barely visible underneath the kohl eyeliner, studied Crystal. A head shorter than Crystal, Jolene outweighed her by forty pounds. It wasn't fat either, but muscle. She worked during the day for a paving company, doing man's work, and had the stamina of a woman dedicated to providing for her family.
"I take it the meeting tonight is about you," Jolene said, pressing her hands flat on the counter and leaning forward.
Crystal's toes strained to curl inside her heels. "Yep."
"Do you think you're back in?" Theresa shut off the stove and removed the skillet to the butcher block.
"I'm Raul's woman," Crystal stated. "What do you think?"
Judging her or Raul's decision went against club rules. A perk of being the president's woman, because no one was allowed to argue his actions unless behind closed doors and that meant the women had to deal with their problems with her to their men, not her. If they could convince their men to stand up to Raul, then the outcome could be different. It was rare that any of the members wanted to go against Raul's requests.
However, until Raul walked away from the table, her security within the club was still on shaky ground. He'd put her being back up to the vote from the brotherhood and they'd each decide if they wanted her to stay. Majority would win, and Raul was only one vote when behind closed doors. She hooked her thumbs on the front of the belt loops of her shorts. "How's Roxanne?"
Roxanne, Butch's girl—not his woman, but she was here most of the times for the get-togethers—had severed the main artery in her leg and broken her thighbone in a car accident a month before Raul kicked Crystal out. The last update she'd heard, the doctors weren't sure they'd save Roxanne's leg.
"She's got both legs, but will have a permanent limp." Jolene sighed, softening her features. "She's really lucky to be alive. Butch was great during her hospital stay. He stepped up and claimed her, gave her a home, and the help she'll need."
Always soft spoken and a gentle soul, Roxanne deserved everything she got. She smiled, happy for the other woman. Everyone knew Butch was her man, and she was thrilled that Butch realized that before it was too late. "That's great."
"Yeah." Theresa removed the lid off the salsa jars and dumped the contents out of all five containers. "She's been coming around more often. I'm sure you'll see her…if you get to stay."
Crystal nodded. If?
Her stomach flip-flopped, and she caught herself from slouching in worry. The real possibility that the men would vote her out was there. She had no plans on where she'd go or what she'd do if the majority of the votes came back that she had to leave.
Maybe Raul would stay true to his offer to give her enough money to get back to Palm Springs. She doubt the manager had kept her belongings for safekeeping. She blinked, keeping her eyes closed an extra beat to hide her worry. That scum manager at the dirty motel would steal every to re-sell, just so he could buy more alcohol and purchase more pay per views on television.
After running out after last night's show at the lounge and missing the next two sets, she could kiss her job goodbye. Even if she begged to come back, Dean would use the opportunity to make her work in the backroom screwing half the men in Palm Springs. Dirty Bastard.
Going home wasn't an option. She swallowed down the ball of fear constricting her throat. Even returning to the same city as her parents would ruin their career and force her to face the speculations. She knew the rules. She could never go back.
Voices eased into the kitchen from the other room. She pressed her hand to her stomach and smoothed her shirt.
"Looks like club business is over." Jolene raised her brow and when Crystal remained silent, she added. "Good luck."
Theresa wiped her hands on the towel and stepped over beside Crystal. "We mean that. It's good to have you back, and we hope you gain approval."
She squeezed Theresa's arm. "Thank you," she whispered.
The door swished open. Crystal turned and zeroed in on Raul. The sight of him filling the door, his gaze sweeping over her, checking out her mood, and then visibly relaxing comforted her more than even the other women's approval.
What she wouldn't do was ask the question pressing down on her heart. She wouldn't lower herself to show concern while there were others present. Raul's sergeant in arms and VP stood behind him, studying her. Though she kept her gaze on Raul, she felt the heat of curiosity coming off the others in the room. They were waiting for her reaction. She'd freeze in hell before she showed any weakness and embarrassed Raul.
Her whole life had been under the scrutiny of others. She knew how to hide her true feelings and thoughts. Only Raul made her fumble with her self-control.
"Come here," he said softly, in that rich, smooth, accent.
She walked the few feet separating them and stood in front of him. Not touching, but she hoped close enough when he gave her the news, Jolene and Theresa couldn't hear. She'd need a moment to prepare herself for the outcome.
Raul tilted his head to the side, forcing her to look at him. "You're in like I promised you, mi vida."