As another race begins, Nathan lowers to my ear and his nose traces the shell. An innocent observer would think he’s whispering sweet things to me, or maybe even naughty thoughts. However, when he speaks, he’s all cautionary.
“When I was young and stupid, I fell in with the wrong crowd. I wanted to be someone, belong to something, and I became a prospect of the Iron Wraiths.” My breath hitches. I remember he rode a motorcycle that night long ago. Why else would he be at the Fugitive where we met? But I had no idea he wanted to be part of a motorcycle club, especially not one like the Wraiths. “I needed to do terrible things to be one of them, and I was prepared to do whatever was necessary, Naomi. Steal. Pillage. Deal. Then, one night I met a girl. I fell between her thighs where I wanted to stay all night.”
Why is he telling me such things? I don’t want to hear about his sexual escapades. Suddenly, I don’t want to be near him, and I tug at his hand. He releases me only briefly, slipping his arm around my waist to catch me before I can walk away. He drags me before him, my back to his chest. His other palm cups the back of my hand and he dips our collective hands into my deep coat pocket. He lowers his head again, continuing his tale in my ear.
“As a prospect, when you get a call, you jump. You don’t question. You don’t whine. You just do what is asked. I couldn’t disobey an order, but I didn’t want to leave the girl. She was such a sweet thing. One more kiss. And I was gonna be late.”
I hate him. I don’t care about his lingering in bed with some girl.
“Late,” he repeats. “And I knew there’d be hell to pay. And I paid. When I finally pulled myself away, Destiny, as you might say, or the universe, had other plans for me.” His breath is warm as he explains all this to me. The heat does nothing to melt the ice slowly filling my insides at the thought of him as a member of the Iron Wraiths. I remember Darrell Winston and the way he treated his sweet wife, Bethany. Ex-wife. She finally divorced him, but it didn’t seem to stop him. Then I recall Nathan’s monstrous bike.
“You still ride?” Was he one of them?
“I never patched in. Sometimes I ride with others, like my brother Todd and his best friend, but no other shenanigans. I like to ride alone, mostly.” This makes some sense to me. I’m considered a solitaire Wiccan, which means I practice as I please within standards I set for myself. I don’t want to be ruled by confines. I’ve already lived that life with my parents and their religion, and it suffocated me. Still, I can’t believe Nathan wanted to be an Iron Wraith or the fact he didn’t become one because of some hussy in his sheets.
“Do you know who that girl was, Nae?” A shiver ripples down my spine.
“How would I know?” I snip.
“You.”
The hussy in the sheets. Me? I try to twist and face him, as old feelings of guilt and waywardness conflict inside me. However, Nathan holds me still. My eyes leap to Dirty Dave and Catfish. Dirty Dave peers at me over his shoulder.
“You were part of the reason I didn’t patch in, Naomi. A reaction to an action. A pretty girl. Dark hair on my pillow. Tempting lips on mine.” I stiffen against him as I remember my younger self.
I don’t understand why he’s telling me all this, but I hold still when Catfish turns to look at me. Then Dwight Henderson comes into my peripheral view. My breath hitches and Nathan’s cheek pulls back from mine.
“Get why our date is here, yet?” I think so. He blames me for not making it in the club. Sweet Goddess, he hates me. For a split second, I worry I’m about to be sacrificed on the flames. Then, I shake the thought.
You’re being ridiculous, Naomi.
“Why didn’t you just tell me you were upset? You didn’t make it in the club because of me. You didn’t have to throw me into this pit and show me all you’ve missed.”
Nathan chuckles bitterly behind me, before kissing the side of my head and lingering on my temple. Something whispers over my skin and I stare at the flames of the bonfire. Protection. Security. Beginning.
“No, Naomi. You were a part of me not making one of the biggest mistakes of my life. I’m not sorry one bit I didn’t patch in with them. But they want me back now, and you’re here so they can all see you’re with me. No one can touch you without getting through me first.”
“What?” I choke.
“Bringing you here makes a statement to the Iron Wraiths and that dweeb Dwight who wants to be one of them. They need to stay the hell away from you or deal with me.”
“I don’t understand,” I whisper.
“You’re my girl in their eyes, sweetheart.” He kisses my neck and then looks up at Catfish watching us. Nathan straightens behind my back and Catfish turns away. Dwight hasn’t looked in our direction, but I sense his eyes shifting. He wants to gawk, but something stops him. I spin in Nathan’s arms and grip the edge of his open leather jacket.
“Get me out of here,” I whisper. I don’t want to be anywhere near Dwight Henderson or any of these men with their leering glances.
“Kiss me first,” he mutters. There is a reason for his soft command, and I’ll do whatever he asks of me, if it gets us out of here. I trust him to keep me safe and draw courage from his presence. He leans forward, and I tip up on my toes, taking his mouth with mine like I remember doing eighteen years ago. I kiss him with all I know. My mouth demands he take my gratitude for his protection. My tongue sneaks forward to let him know I understand. My lips open wider, drawing him into me. His kiss is my oxygen, because I can’t breathe with these men watching us.
Nathan pulls back first, and a mischievous smile graces his lips. He looks over my head and I twist in his arms enough to peek over my shoulder.
“You should patch in again,” Catfish states. I grip Nathan’s jacket tighter in my fists. “We need men like you.” Catfish narrows his eyes. There is something he isn’t saying, but Nathan understands. He chuckles softly as he shakes his head and I feel the vibration against my cheek at his chest.
“We don’t need a witch on our side,” Dwight smirks and Nathan is gone in a second. He slips from my grasp, stepping around me toward Dwight. Nathan grabs the collar of Dwight’s jacket, yanking him forward.
“I wouldn’t want to join your team if these are the types of players you recruit,” Nathan hisses in Dwight’s face, but he directs his condescension to Catfish. A guffaw from Dirty Dave hints at deviousness, while Catfish places a hand on Nathan’s shoulder.
“It’s nice to see a little fire in you again, Wolf. I remember that flame, old friend.” Catfish states, and I swallow at the implication.
Nathan shoves Dwight away from him. “I already proved myself.”
“You didn’t,” Catfish proclaims, narrowing his eyes at Nathan. “But I remember your conviction. And some serious”—his eyes shift to me, assessing my attire—“balls, especially showing up here like this.” Catfish’s gaze remains on me.
“Easy,” Nathan warns, not liking the direction of the motorcycle man’s tone.
Two men suddenly appear, flanking either side of me, and for a moment I think we are surrounded by Wraiths.
“You okay, Nathan?” One asks. He stands just as tall as Nathan, similar silver-white hair with a tease of facial scruff. The other man is taller—broad and buff—with a thick beard like a true mountain man. They both wear leather jackets and dark jeans. With arms defensively crossed, they look like guardians at my sides.
Hands raised in surrender, Catfish speaks. “Toad,” he addresses the white-haired man, and I assume that can’t be his given name. “Big Poppy,” he says to the mountain-sized one. “Just enjoying a night at the track.”
The tension is thicker than my oldest sister’s now famous fried pickle batter. The vibe around us is just as crisp, too.
“We don’t need quitters,” Dwight blurts as an afterthought. “He walked away.”
Nathan’s head swivels to glare at Catfish and a conversation seems to ensue between the men.
“Not that it’s any of your concern,” Nathan eventually a
ddresses Dwight. “But I’ll be walking away now, too.” With that, Nathan steps back and wraps an arm around my shoulder. The two men standing guard next to me nod at Nathan and slip forward, blocking our retreat. They wait as Nathan spins me toward his truck.
“Don’t look back,” he warns me, but he doesn’t have to worry. I don’t want to look back on any of this.
Chapter Thirteen
Dewey Decimal Classification: 646.77 Dating
[Nathan]
Shit. Shit. Shit.
That was bad.
So bad.
I lost my grip on the situation, probably making it worse instead of better. The Canyon is neutral territory. Skin-heads. Bikers. Mountaineers. It’s a rough crowd but harmless. A promise of anonymity hovers over the property and I thought it would be a good place to present Naomi as under my protection. But instead, I think I made things worse for her.
I’m going to catch hell from my brother Todd, whose road name is Toad, and his best friend Big Poppy, for getting in the face of an Iron Wraiths prospect. Not to mention, Todd doesn’t want me anywhere near the Wraiths again. He knows Catfish has been stalking me to re-up, holding over me what happened the first time. I gave Todd my word I wasn’t going back.
There will be questions about the woman as well, and Todd will flip when he learns who Naomi is. Keeping her snug under my arm, I help her into my truck and then circle the bed. Once I enter the driver’s side, I start the engine and take a deep breath. I need a second.
“I’m so sorry,” I mutter, scrubbing two hands down my face. “I thought I was helping you, but I might have just made it worse.” I turn to look at her. Her wide eyes—filled with question and surprise—focus on me.
“You’re trembling,” she softly says. I’m not actually. I’m vibrating with adrenaline, trying to regain my composure after nearly losing it on Dwight.
“I’m not a violent man by nature,” I tell her, hoping she isn’t frightened of me.
“I believe you,” she says softly. She’s leaning with one hand on the bench seat of my truck, her body positioned to face mine.
“I’ll get us out of here,” I add, but with the look she gives me, I just want her close. I reach for her, hoping to draw her near me. When I tug her upper arm, I catch her off guard, and she lunges forward with the force, face-planting into my chest.
“Ow.” She pulls back, covering her nose with her fingers.
“Shit. I’m so sorry.” I reach for her jaw while her fingers pinch the bridge of her nose.
I’m making a fucking mess of this night.
“I’well be oway,” she says all nasal-blocked.
“Sweet Jesus,” I murmur.
“I don’t pray to him, but I’m alright.” Releasing her nose, she continues to stare at me. In fact, she appears calmer than I feel. So much for date number one, I think. It really is turning into a catastrophe, and I turn back for the steering wheel, peering through the windshield until her hand brushes my arm.
“Nathan.” There’s something in her nasally voice and I face her again to see she has shifted on the seat. She slides closer to me. I watch as she crawls forward before lifting a leg as if she wishes to climb in my lap. There are several issues with this idea.
The distance between me and the steering wheel isn’t wide enough for both of us.
Her long coat tangles in her leg.
Her knee hits the horn.
The screeching beep startles her and forces her knee downward. I separate my thighs with hardly an inch to spare from the family jewels as the loud honk echoes through the silence around the truck. Thankfully, I catch her at the waist before she face-plants on the steering wheel.
“Whatcha doing?” I can’t help but chuckle through my frazzled nerves.
Her leg between my thighs retracts but not before her heel catches on the steering wheel. Her ankle slips into the opening.
“I think I’m stuck.”
The statement draws more unexpected laughter from me. Maybe she’s right. Maybe the universe is cursing me. Maybe the universe is trying to tell me I’m a major fuck up in all things concerning this woman.
I try to help her release her ankle from the slim opening between wheel and horn. The force I use tugs her knee forward and it catches me in the chest. It doesn’t hurt but it startles me, and I huff, choking on oxygen and my guffaws.
“I’m so bad at this,” she mutters, once her foot is free, and she scrambles back to the passenger side of the truck, plastering herself against the opposite door. She thumps back on the seat, straightens her coat, and folds her hands in her lap.
Yeah, things typically work a little better than this.
“Nae,” I exhale, trying to rein in the hysteria rippling under my skin. She stiffens before lifting her arm to the passenger door and pinches at her forehead with her fingertips. Her gaze remains focused out the front window. I don’t understand what just happened here. This woman is all kinds of contradictions. She acts like she’s never been kissed but looks at me like she wants a lick. She seems like she’s holding back and then the next minute she’s ready to attack. I don’t know what to do with her, but I need to get us out of this lot.
“I think you should take me home,” she says. My heart drops. She won’t even look at me. Without a word, I shift to reverse and exit the Canyon. We ride in silence until I can’t take it anymore.
“I don’t want to take you home yet.” My head twists to momentarily peer at her, all buttoned up and stiff as a board in that damn long coat. We are almost halfway between the abandoned mine and Green Valley, and I pull into Cooper’s Field.
“What’s this?” she asks, eyes opening wide as she glances out the window. A few other drivers have a similar idea as me, tucking vehicles into nooks by trees or paths among the field. My truck jostles as we find a little privacy for ourselves among the scattered parked cars.
Naomi’s head shoots back to me as I cut the engine and hang my wrist over the steering wheel. I turn to her while I lean the seat back as far as it will go.
“Let’s try this again,” I say, my voice rough with need. I won’t press her. I just want to make up for earlier.
“Come here,” I say, reaching for the front of her coat and gently forcing her attention to me.
“Do you really think this is a good idea?” I hear the concern in her voice. The worry of catastrophe. We just survived one though. Makes me almost want to celebrate. She shifts on the seat to face me, and I watch my fingers fumble with the large button at the collar of her long coat. I ignore her question.
“Let’s start by loosening up a bit.”
She doesn’t say anything but her breathing increases. With each button dragged through another hole, a deep exhale releases from her. Her breasts heave, and my fingers twitch to cup her, feel their weight and squeeze. How would she respond to me?
When the coat opens, I slowly remove it from her shoulders. There’s too much bulk to this thing and I want her close without the barrier. I curl an arm around her back.
“Come to me,” I groan, tugging her toward me and guiding her onto my lap. She follows my direction and slips her leg over both of mine. We move slowly this time, and I’ve suddenly become appreciative of her dress which slips up to her hips as she balances on my thighs. Her hands rest on my shoulders and I reach for her hat, freeing her silvery hair. I like how it glows in the dark night. Her lips twist as I comb through the heavy strands, loving the way they spring back to a kinky wave when I reach the end.
“Are you cold?” I ask. It isn’t wintery outside, but the air holds a chill, hinting at the next season. The heat in the truck cab is rising with our warm breaths, but I still want her to be comfortable. Naomi shivers as she says no, her tremors having nothing to do with the temperature. I rub my hands up and down her arms.
For a moment, I’m a teenager again, all hot and bothered. Eager, yet holding back. On the verge of bursting in my pants. I tug at the scarf covering her neck, unwrapping her like a present to re
veal the curve of her throat and the line of her jaw. I want her undressed—open and exposed to me—but not in my truck. Not this night. This night will be a teaser of what we could be together.
Tossing the heavy material to the side, I return my hands to her hips, climbing up her sides until my palms settle near her breasts. My thumbs draw up under each swell and her breathing exaggerates, forcing them to rise and fall in a way that makes my mouth water. With the size of them, I know one would fill my thirsty mouth.
“You almost got in a fight back there.” Her voice remains quiet and low as if others might hear her. She exhales, and the weight of her breasts under the thick pads of my thumbs feels amazing. I press upward, desperate to cup their fullness. “No one’s ever stood up for me like that before.” Her hands cover my scruff-covered jaw and my eyes focus on her lips as she licks them. Then she leans forward, hesitant and patient. I don’t have as much restraint and meet her halfway. My mouth takes hers as I wrap my arms firmly around her back and draw her down my lap. She moans into my mouth as her hips wiggle until she settles right where I want her most. I squeeze at her spine and she rocks forward.
“There she is …” I mutter between kisses. “The girl I remember.” Past images slowly drift back to me. A girl who took her time although she was in a rush. Movements like a slow dance. Unbearable anticipation and incredible patience. She pulls back from my lips, bites the corner of hers, and then something unleashes. Her fingertips tenderly scratch at my scruffy jaw before her mouth crashes with mine. Teeth clash. Tongues collide. It isn’t pretty and yet I want it all. She settles into a rhythm with my lips, allowing me to lead and then she rocks against me again.
“Nae,” I whisper as I trace kisses to her jaw. I haven’t made out with a woman since I was a boy but I’m enjoying her mouth and her movements. Her fingers grip my jaw and her undulating increases in my lap. Her breath hitches on my name and if I didn’t know better, I’d think …
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