Red Eyes MC: Books 1 - 3

by Grey, Blair

  I couldn’t believe we hadn’t even made it to the bedroom.

  I didn’t regret sleeping with her, of course. Nor could I say that I didn’t want to sleep with her again now. I’d felt those zings of lust shoot through me throughout the date, not least when she’d been tracing the tattoos on my arm, her fingers moving tantalizingly slowly across my skin. But I remembered the way she had left the previous week, and I didn’t want to see her upset like that again. And I definitely didn’t want her to stop talking to me again. So I hesitated.

  “Just for a drink?” I asked her, arching an eyebrow at her.

  Leila flushed a little, looking away from me. “I don’t know,” she said softly.

  Could I do that? Could I go inside for just a drink and trust myself to keep my hands off her? But when she looked back at me, that pleading look in her eyes, I knew I had to. She would be just as upset if I cut the date short because I didn’t think I could control myself. And I wasn’t an animal. I should be able to control myself.

  No matter how used I was to just taking what I wanted, to act on my impulses, it was exactly the kind of thing that got me into trouble with Ray. Maybe this was good practice for me.

  I nodded slowly, shutting off the car. “All right,” I said.

  I followed her inside, but it turned out that I couldn’t keep my hands off her after all. There was just something about the gentle curve of her neck as she poured out the drinks, something about being there in her house, when she hadn’t even wanted me to know where she lived before.

  I moved toward her as though drawn by some magnetic force.

  It started out innocently enough; I brushed away some of the baby hairs at the nape of her neck, softly pressing kisses against the sensitive skin there. I could feel the way she tensed, hear the way she drew in a sharp breath. She set the bottle of liquor down hard on the counter, her body falling back against mine.

  “Is this okay?” I murmured against her skin.

  She turned in my arms, her lips desperately searching out mine, moving softly against my own hot skin. We made out for a long moment, and I couldn’t keep my hands from trailing down her body. It felt like there was too much material between the two of us. I wanted nothing more than to slide my fingertips across her skin.

  But I still wasn’t sure. Last time, she had seemed so into everything, and then it had been almost as though I had pressured her. I didn’t want her to feel like that again.

  I pulled away, looking seriously down at her. “If you don’t want to…” I trailed off, clearing my throat. “We don’t have to do this.”

  “I want this,” she promised me, pulling me into another scorching kiss. Her tongue pressed into my mouth, sliding against mine and making us both groan in unison. I pulled her closer against me, reminded not for the first time that she wasn’t in heels for this date. And as sexy as it had been to see her in heels, she fit so perfectly against me like this.

  “I want to do this right this time,” she suddenly gasped out, pulling away from me. She caught my hand in hers, tugging me urgently along to the bedroom.

  I grinned and took her in my arms again, quickly working to get her out of that dress so I could spread her out against the sheets.

  22

  Leila

  Saturday

  There was something in me that insisted I shouldn’t be going to bed with Marcus again. It had been wrong after our last date, and it was wrong again after this date. He seemed like a great guy. But there was no denying that he was caught up in the kinds of things I didn’t want to get tangled up in. I still didn’t know what had brought him to the ER that first time he’d been in there, but it couldn’t have been anything good.

  I couldn’t seem to keep my hands off him, though. I shouldn’t have suggested a date to begin with, but I hadn’t been able to help the fact that I wanted to see him again. And when he’d come to the hospital looking for me, I hadn’t been able to ignore that. And then seeing him the previous day, both with the crowds of people who showed up at the fundraiser as well as, specifically, with Gavin and Rachel…

  I just couldn’t help myself. Like Rachel had figured out, I really liked this guy.

  I was getting in over my head, and I had a hard time even caring that I was doing so; that was the truth of it. Now, I had him here in my bedroom with me, and I couldn’t seem to keep my hands off him, even though I felt like I was just walking into a trap.

  He had charisma; I had to give him that. But there was a lot more to it than that.

  He pushed me gently down on the bed, still staring at me with that too-serious look in his eyes as his fingers hovered at the buttons of his shirt. At least, the ones that I hadn’t managed to undo myself as he got me out of my dress. As it was, I could see half of his chest already, peeking out from behind the material. I couldn’t wait to see the rest of him, and I felt impatient.

  My fingers slipped between my legs, playing across my sensitive nub. Marcus snorted. “I was going to ask if you were sure, just one last time,” he said, climbing onto the bed and grabbing my wrists, pinning my arms out to the sides so I couldn’t toy with myself any more. “But I guess that’s all the answer I need. Minx.”

  He bent down to kiss me again, and I twisted beneath him, trying to get some sort of friction between my legs. But he continued to evade me, and I subsided, forcing myself to concentrate on the burning feel of his lips against mine. But all that did was make lust pool even hotter in my core, until I was desperate to at least feel some skin on skin contact.

  I turned my face to the side. “Please,” I said, pouting up at him as he pulled back.

  He laughed and rolled away from me, standing up and stripping out of his clothes, dropping them into a careless pile on the floor. His eyes were on me the whole time, darkened with lust. I couldn’t help but shiver in anticipation.

  He covered my body with his again, kissing his way along my skin. But I could feel a certain level of impatience in him as well, evident in the way that his hips continued to press against mine, his manhood hard against my belly.

  Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore. I reached down between us, grasping his thick length and guiding him toward my slit. He gazed down at me as he pressed inside, moving inch by slow inch. My own eyes fluttered closed.

  There was a pause between each hard thrust so that I never knew when to expect the next one. And over the course of the next couple of minutes, I absolutely fell apart beneath him. He started to pick up the pace, and I clung to him, dragging my fingernails down his back and watching as he groaned, his head thrown back.

  I knew I wasn’t going to last for much longer; I could feel the tension in my whole body, the prickly heat that came with each new thrust. He got a hand between us and repeated my actions from earlier, stroking lightly over my nub, giving me just that little bit of extra stimulation, just what I needed.

  I came hard, crying out his name, totally coming undone against the sheets. And he came at the same time, pulsing hotly inside of me as he gasped and pressed his forehead against my collarbone.

  We lay flat on our backs, staring up at the ceiling. For a moment, I considered what to do next. Last week, it had been so easy, at this point, just to get up and leave. And what’s more, I had felt like I had to leave. I’d already started to regret what we had done.

  I didn’t know if it was the bed or what, but this time, I didn’t feel like I regretted it. I wanted Marcus here. I liked him, and whatever else he might be tangled up in, I trusted him with me. I didn’t think he would hurt me, not on purpose.

  What’s more, I was starting to realize I might be developing serious feelings for him. I couldn’t help it. He was sexy, he was sweet, and he just charmed me, in a way that I had never been charmed before. I liked that when he put his mind to something, he wouldn’t take no for an answer. He would do everything in his power to get what he wanted.

  Even if it meant hanging out around one of the fundraisers that I had helped organize, chatting with t
he kids and their parents.

  “What are you smiling about?” Marcus asked, wrapping his arms around me and pulling me close.

  I shook my head, trying to bury the smile against his chest. But it was too late now anyway; he had already seen it. “I’m just happy,” I finally said, honestly.

  “Good,” Marcus murmured. There was something in his voice that I wanted to examine, some hint of feelings of his own, maybe? But my mind felt pleasantly like mush, and I was having a hard time concentrating on things like that.

  I lost myself in the feeling of Marcus’s warm, calloused hands running down my spine, stroking me into total relaxation. Finally, he stirred, though, pulling regretfully away from me. I swallowed hard, reminded that no matter how much I was starting to like him, he wasn’t the type of guy to be in a relationship with me. Sure, we might date, but we both knew the end goal for the evening was this.

  I had set things up that way, the previous week.

  I spent a moment kicking myself for being such a slut the previous week. If I had just held out, maybe I could have ensured that our relationship would develop into something more. But now, it was just about sex. It was only ever going to be just about sex.

  It was my own fault.

  “Hey,” Marcus said suddenly, cupping my cheek in his palm. He brushed away a tear I hadn’t realized had fallen. “What’s wrong?”

  I shrugged, rolling away from him. “I don’t want you to go,” I admitted, curling up into a tight ball.

  Marcus laughed, sounding incredulous, and then curled his own body around mine, his soothing touches meeting my skin once more. “Then I won’t go,” he said, as though it was just that simple.

  I shook my head. “No, I mean, I know that the relationship we have is—”

  “Leila,” Marcus interrupted, and I turned to face him again. He stroked his fingers along my cheek again, looking seriously into my eyes. “I was going to ask if you wanted me to leave. You know, since you can’t just stalk out of here this time.” He paused. “I mean, I suppose you could, but it would be kind of awkward since it’s your place.” He continued to stare at me for a long moment. “I don’t particularly want to leave.”

  “Good,” I whispered. I looked down at my hand, where it rested against his chest. “Look, I know that you’re involved in things that I don’t want to know about. That knife cut was testimony to that if nothing else.” I paused. “I don’t want to know about that stuff. But I want this. I want to see you. And I’d like you to stay. If that’s okay. At least until you give me a good reason not to be involved with you.”

  “Hopefully that’ll never happen,” Marcus rumbled.

  I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, hopefully,” I agreed. But the truth was, I didn’t hold out much hope. I didn’t know exactly what kinds of things he was involved in, but I had seen enough of life in Las Cruces to know that if things went south, with whatever it was, he wasn’t going to have the luxury of deciding what parts of his life it affected.

  But I still couldn’t help wanting to be part of his life. At least for now.

  Marcus leaned in and kissed me again, softly and chaste. Then, he wrapped his arms around me, and I pillowed my head against his chest. I knew there was more we needed to talk about, but I could feel myself falling asleep even as I lay there. I filed those thoughts away for a later date.

  23

  Marcus

  Sunday

  On Sunday morning, I woke up with Leila still in my arms. Her soft, curvy body was warm against mine, and she had the faintest trace of a smile on her face. I couldn’t help but smile as well, seeing how peaceful she looked.

  The previous night had been good on so many levels. I was starting to realize that maybe, just maybe, Leila wasn’t just some random girl I got to sleep with. No, she was much more complicated than that. She interested me. She made me feel like I had to be on the ball, like I had to keep up with her. I liked that bit of mental challenge to go along with the rest of it.

  The sex was great, too.

  I couldn’t help thinking back to the way she had looked, spread out on the sheets and toying with herself. It was like she couldn’t keep her hands off herself, like if she didn’t get that stimulation, right then, then she would explode. God, that was hot.

  I’d meant to take my time with her, to tease her a little. I could tell just how badly she needed it, and I wanted to leave her hanging at first, to keep her wanting more. But I hadn’t been able to hold back, and especially not when she had grabbed me and all but pushed me inside of her. For all her nervousness about certain things, she sure knew how to get a man going.

  Afterward, I hadn’t been sure if I should stay. I remembered the way she had darted out of my place the previous week, and I’d wondered if that was what she expected. I tried to tell myself that this wasn’t just about sex. After all, why else would she want me to come to that fundraiser thing? Unless she really didn’t have anyone else to ask.

  No, the more I thought about it, the more obvious it was that she was only interested in sleeping with me. And that was fine. At least the sex was great. But something about that realization had still left me feeling hollow. I’d pulled away from her, started to leave.

  And she’d looked like she was going to cry. I felt stupid at how hopeful I felt when she made it clear that she wanted me to stay. I’d tried not to examine that too closely.

  I couldn’t have feelings for her, not yet. It was too soon. I just had a thing for her. That was all. It was still mostly fueled by sex. We’ll say, ninety percent lust and ten percent enjoying her company.

  In my heart, though, I knew I was lying to myself. I really was starting to like her.

  I slipped out of bed, leaving her sleeping peacefully, curled around one of her pillows. God, she was cute. Even with her hair in disarray, her body tangled up in the sheets. I wanted to go back and kiss her, but I didn’t want to wake her up, not yet.

  No, I was starting to like her, and I knew what that meant. It meant it was time to figure out what she had in her kitchen that I could make for breakfast.

  I hummed under my breath as I surveyed my options. I didn’t know why I was doing this, really; I should be out of there. I didn’t even know if she really did want me there. It could have just been the after-sex glow the previous night that had pushed her to ask me to stay. She might have expected me to be gone before she woke up.

  But somehow, I didn’t think so.

  I found some eggs and some vegetables and started making some omelets. I almost had everything ready when Leila wandered into the kitchen, still rubbing the sleep from her eyes. “Hey,” she murmured, putting her arms around my waist from behind, ignoring the fact that I was trying not to burn anything.

  I laughed and turned around, greeting her with a kiss. “Good morning,” I said.

  Leila looked up at me, and I could see uncertainty in her eyes, like she didn’t fully believe I was there. “I thought you might have left,” she said.

  I raised an eyebrow at her. “Did you want me to leave?”

  “No!” Leila said quickly, her arms tightening around me. “I just didn’t expect you to want to stay.”

  I frowned down at her. “I thought I’d done a pretty good job of establishing that I’m not exactly like what your first impression of me led you to believe,” I chided.

  Leila grinned. “That’s true.”

  I slowly unlinked her arms from around my waist and nudged her toward the table. “Have some coffee and have a seat,” I suggested. “I’m almost finished with breakfast.”

  “I don’t think I’ve ever had a guy make me breakfast before,” Leila mused as she sat at the table. “Not that I have guys stay over very often. Or ever.” She laughed, sounding embarrassed.

  I smiled over my shoulder at her. “I’m honored to be the lucky person that you let stay,” I said, only half-joking.

  She giggled, though. “Don’t go getting arrogant,” she warned.

  I slid a plate in front of her an
d then sat down across from her with a plate of my own, just watching as she took her first bite. I could tell she liked it, even before she commented. “God, this is actually good,” she said. Then, she blushed, seeming to realize the way she had said that. “Not that I expected it wouldn’t be.”

  I laughed and shook my head, picking up my own fork. “Don’t worry, I know,” I told her. “The hulking biker dude in movies never knows how to cook.”

  “It’s just unexpected, I guess,” Leila said. “There’s a lot more to you than meets the eye.”

  I could see her watching me, assessing me maybe. I tried to ignore it.

  The truth was, I knew that if we were going to continue down this path, if we were going to get serious about things between us, she was going to have to know about Red Eyes. Eventually. Obviously, that wasn’t the kind of thing that I went blabbing about. You had to really trust a person to let them know that you were involved in some quasilegal endeavors.

  The trouble was, I had a feeling that would ruin things between us. I didn’t know what she knew, or what she thought she knew anyway, but I remembered what she had said the previous night, that she wanted to do this as long as she didn’t get tangled up in whatever I was involved in. And I certainly didn’t want her getting tangled up in MC business, either. But I was realistic about it; I knew that at some point, despite my best intentions, something might happen.

  If not to her, then at least to me. I didn’t think she would tolerate me showing up with another knife cut, either.

  “What are you thinking about?” Leila asked, cocking her head to the side.

  I shook my head, pasting on a smile. “Nothing,” I told her. I paused. “Just thinking about this place that I want to take you to tonight. If you’re free.”

  “I’m not actually,” Leila said, and I might have thought that she was still trying to keep her distance, still playing hard to get. Except that I could hear how regretful she was that she was busy. I could see it in her expression. That mollified me somewhat.