To Have and to Harley
Page 10
What he was doing was both sweetly touching and heart-wrenching. Not only was he trying to get to know her by exploring her space, but he also seemed to be imagining what he’d have been like if he’d been who he was born to be.
But the boy who’d been Samuel Yelverton was gone forever, and Trey Harding stood in his place. Hurt, lonely, and desperate to find his place in the world.
Bethany stood and let the booklet fall to the tabletop. Crossing the distance between them, she wrapped her arms around his waist and pressed her cheek to his back.
She didn’t say anything, just closed her eyes and enjoyed being close to him. And, after a moment, his hands covered hers on his rock-hard abdomen.
“You keep acting like this, and I’ll forget I’m a gentleman,” he said in a husky voice. She shivered a little as the deep rumble went through her.
“I already bought you a drink,” she said, loosening her grip so he could turn to face her.
“I guess you did,” he said with a crooked smile and a twinkle in his eye.
“Doesn’t that mean I get another kiss?”
“Whatever Strong Girl wants,” he said, leaning down, then lowering his voice to a whisper, “Strong Girl gets.”
Mouth descending to hers, he kissed her. Softly at first, gently, as if the emotion in the room had driven them together, their mouths tangled sweetly in a dance of getting-to-know-you. Bethany sank into him, her heart threatening to escape her ribs if it beat much faster.
But the hunger that had been growing between them couldn’t be held at arm’s length forever. Bethany opened her mouth to him, and then he lost control. Kissing her wildly, deeply, passionately, he moved against her as if this was his last day, and she was his last hope.
His hands were everywhere—rubbing down her back, across her waist, down to cup her ass and lift her straight off the floor and hard against him. She gasped against his mouth at the feeling of his erection pressing into her belly.
He clearly wanted her as badly as she wanted him.
Whirling, he took the three steps to the bed that was pressed against the wall opposite the closet. Down onto the mattress they went, his big body covering her, holding her down, imprisoning her with the passion she’d imagined over and over again since their first meeting.
“Beth,” he growled against her neck, and she arched her back to encourage him.
His teeth grazed her pulse point, and her blood rushed through her veins at triple speed. Her nipples were so hard they were aching inside her bra, her core getting wetter with every touch, every caress, every kiss.
His hand was broad enough that, when he brought it from her waist upward, he covered her whole breast with a palm. She gasped, the fabric of her bra and shirt not enough to keep the feeling of his hand from her sensitive nipple.
“I can’t wait to see these,” he said, rubbing his hand over her breast in a gentle but demanding circle. She moaned, her legs shifting against each other in a fruitless bid to ease the ache he was stoking there. “You are so beautiful. I want to see and touch every part of you.”
“Then do it,” she whispered, tangling her fingers in his hair to bring his head down to her again. “I want you too.”
His fingers went low, to the hem of her shirt, and her breath caught in her throat as his touch skirted across her bare belly. His fingers were a little rough, and the foreign sensation heightened her anticipation and excitement as they bumped over her lower ribs.
“If you’ve got any ideas about changing your mind, this is the moment to do it. Once I see you—”
She grabbed his hand and looked deep into his beautiful, sea-green eyes. “I want you, Trey.”
A hungry smile spread across his face, and his fingers had just crept beneath the edge of her bra when—
The doorbell rang.
With a little shriek, Bethany jumped. Trey clapped a hand over her mouth.
“If you want to keep this quiet, screaming isn’t the best way to do that,” he whispered.
Shaking her head, she scooted out from under him. “Crap. I… Crap. Where’s my… Okay. Stay here.”
Weaving her way out of the room, Bethany skidded toward the front door as if her ass were on fire. In a way, it was. Trey had been so willing to help her stoke that flame. And now she had to pretend to be normal for whoever was on her front doorstep.
Hopefully, it was a salesman, or a religious invitation, or a new phone book that would land straight in the recycling bin.
Bethany peeped through the hole and winced. No such luck. She twisted the lock with a jerk and opened the door, just a bit.
Her neighbor, a sweet—but incredibly nosy—older woman, was trying to peer through the crack in the door.
“Hi, Mrs. Sanders! How are you?”
“Just fine, dear. I’m sorry to bother you, but I need some help. The light bulb in my bathroom blew, and I’m not too steady on the stepladder. Would you mind?”
Crap.
“Oh no, no problem,” Bethany said with a tight smile. “I just… Well, I’m in the middle of something, is all. I was—”
“Oh dear,” Mrs. Sanders said, her eyes brightening with interest. “Is your boyfriend here? I didn’t know you were dating someone. Oh, do let me meet him.”
“What?” Bethany’s denial was half breath, half squeak. “No, no, of course I don’t have a guy here. Why would you say that?”
Mrs. Sanders laughed, almost a cackle. “I’m not so old that I don’t remember that look. I’ll ask Matthew across the way to help me with the light bulb. You have fun.” She patted Bethany’s hand with a wink. “Bye now.”
The door closed behind her.
“Jesus,” Bethany moaned and collapsed onto the couch.
She had to get this under control. Who the hell knew what would happen if the Yelvertons found out that Bethany wanted their long-lost Samuel?
She didn’t want to know. She really, really didn’t.
* * *
Leaving Bethany had been difficult, but she’d asked him for time, and he wouldn’t say no.
Still gave him a raging case of blue balls and a pissed-off attitude though. And two days later, it wasn’t fading. He’d texted, but she hadn’t responded. Knowing it was a bad idea just to go to her apartment, he settled for sitting at home, or at Ruby’s and glowering into a glass of Jack.
“Hey, Boss.” Evidently, Ace hadn’t gotten the message that Trey didn’t want to be bothered. The blond-haired biker sank down beside him with a grin. “We going out tonight?”
“No.”
Ace leaned forward on crossed arms as Trey downed the rest of his drink. “But it’s Thursday. We always go looking for dealers on Thursday.”
Several of the Shadows had had problems with addiction in the past, and none of them wanted anyone dealing hard drugs in their territory. Their weekly ride-through ensured that anyone who got the bright idea to start would be fully aware of who’d be handing them their own asses once they got word.
“Wolf’s handling it.” Trey grabbed the bottle and poured himself another, thankful that Ginger had left it.
“But it’s your favorite night of the week.”
Trey bared his teeth at Ace just as Jameson walked up.
“Ace, Wolf wants you outside.”
Grumbling, Ace shoved his chair back and headed outside.
Any hopes Trey had of solitude were short-lived when Jameson sat down in Ace’s recently vacated chair.
“You mind?” Jameson nodded toward the bottle.
Trey pushed it over to him wordlessly.
For several moments, they drank in silence, Trey from his glass, Jameson straight out of the bottle. The low buzz of voices from other tables acted like a barrier between them, each man alone with his own thoughts. After a few minutes though, Trey eyed the other man with a sidelong glance.
Trey looked down at the glass in his hand again. He really was a bastard. He was so up in his damn head about Bethany that he’d completely turned his back on the rest of the Shadows.
“Boss.”
Jameson broke the silence. Trey looked at him.
“What’s up?”
“I don’t know if I can keep doing this wedding shit. It’s—” Jameson rubbed a hand over the back of his military-style haircut. “All the families around. The kids. I… It got to me at Ginger’s.”
Jameson lifted the bottle and took a long, hard pull.
Trey didn’t say a word. Jameson continued.
“It will—it would have been—her birthday in June. It’s always worse then. You know I’d do any damn thing you asked. I’m just asking—no, I’m begging—you to let me do something else.”
Feeling lower than dog shit, Trey pounded the rest of his drink and pushed the glass away. “You’re off the hook. I need someone to keep up with our regular jobs anyway. You can take point on that. The Thursday night rides, the usual security details, any calls that come in.”
Jameson’s eyes widened slightly. “You want me to do all that? What about Wolf?”
“Wolf does what I ask him to. Same as the rest of you assholes.”
The relief was clear on Jameson’s face, but that didn’t make Trey feel any less like a dick. “You got it, Boss.”
“Good. Now go get me a bottle of water. Ginger’s up to her ears in alligators right now.”
Jameson nodded and took the empty bottle and glass up to Brian at the bar.
Alone again, Trey laced his hands atop his head and looked at the low, exposed beams of the ceiling.
He really was a selfish jerk. That wasn’t really a surprise though. What was a little out of the ordinary was the fact that it was bothering him.
He couldn’t pretend that it wasn’t because of recent events. Now that he had a frame of reference for where his genetic material had begun, it felt as though he should be doing better. Caring more. Hell, his mother’s influence even had him wondering if he should step down as head of the Shadows.
He was that serious about fitting into her life. And how stupid was that? He could change his wardrobe, he could sell his bike, but he’d always be a tattooed loser from the wrong side of the tracks. No amount of new clothes and fancy talk could cover up the stink that was his early life.
And that was the asshole who was doing his best to worm his way into the Yelverton family and to get into Bethany’s panties. A woman his mother had made clear was basically a second daughter to her.
“Damn it,” Trey said, shoving his chair back and stalking outside.
He was a rotten bastard.
Wolf, Ace, and several of the other guys were outside, talking about the route they were about to ride.
“Wolf.” Trey beckoned his second with a nod. Wolf came over to the shadowed side of the building where Trey waited.
“We’re ready to ride.”
“Let Jameson take point.”
Wolf frowned, an expression that was made plainer by the wrinkle in his forehead than the corners of his mouth, which were obscured by his impeccably groomed dark beard.
“He needs this.” Trey tapped the back of his right hand. Wolf’s eyes lit with recognition, and he nodded immediately.
“Give him an hour or so to sober up, and then circle back so he can take over.”
“What about you?” Wolf tightened his glove as he asked. “You’ve been hitting the bottle quite a bit lately yourself.”
The question made Trey’s fists tighten, but he forced them to relax. “Just had a lot on my mind. I’m working it out.”
Wolf nodded. “Just make sure you work it out before your liver craps the bed.”
“Drop dead,” Trey said without venom and nodded toward the group of men who were trying to look casual as they clearly attempted to overhear the conversation from the shadows. “They’re waiting for you.”
He clapped Wolf on the shoulder, and then his second walked back to the concrete pad where their bikes all sat.
With a heavy breath, Trey sank down on the curb.
He’d kissed Bethany out here after Ginger’s wedding. What he wouldn’t give to have her in his arms again. But that was a bad idea, and he knew it. Especially since she’d pushed him away.
He needed to focus. Keep this charade going long enough for Sarah to get married and his mother to believe that her son was the kind of man she could be proud of.
Then he could back off. It’s not like Mrs. Yelverton and he moved in the same circles. He could tell her he’d moved and see her from time to time, but not so often he had to keep lying.
It could work, if he kept his brain on the task and his cock in his pants.
Which was easier said than done, especially when he remembered how incredible Bethany felt beneath him.
Ah, damn it.
Chapter Eleven
Bethany shivered as the cold air of the bathroom hit her wet skin. She’d needed a shower less for her body than for her mind.
Grandmother Trudy was at it again.
After the Purple Heart incident, Bethany had toyed with the idea of never speaking to the woman again. But her promise to her father kept ringing in her head, a constant reminder that he’d loved the woman—difficult though she was.
Bethany snorted as she briskly rubbed the green-striped towel down her body. Difficult wasn’t the word for Grandmother Trudy. Terrible? Impossible? Pure evil?
In any case, the phone call she’d gotten that morning had definitely left Bethany feeling off.
“I need to talk to you.”
“There’s nothing that needs to be said,” Bethany had said curtly, tossing the covers back and swinging her feet over the edge of the bed.
At six on a Saturday morning, the only phone calls that should be happening were for bodily injury or garage-sale early birds. This was neither. Well, the bodily injury was a thought…
“Your misunderstanding about my Marine’s medal has nothing to do with this.”
“My misunder—” Bethany shook her head and paced back and forth in front of her closet. “Never mind. Not discussing that with you. What is it?”
And then Grandmother Trudy had dropped the bomb.
“The family is coming into town this afternoon.”
Bethany’s stomach dropped, and her knees almost buckled, but she grabbed onto the knob of the closet door just in time to stop herself.
“What?”
“The family is coming in. Your uncle, aunt, and cousins. They want to see you.”
Even the memory of her grandmother’s words made Bethany want to hop straight back into the shower and stay there for the rest of the day. But she couldn’t. She had to go meet with her grandmother’s side of the family and pretend that everything was peachy keen, jelly bean.
She hated everything about that.
Jerking a brush through her wet hair, she avoided looking directly at the mirror. She knew what Sarah and Mama Yelverton would say if they knew what she was planning to do that afternoon.
“Are you insane? Why would you put yourself in that situation again?” Sarah would yell and rail, threatening to shake sense into her.
Mama Yelverton would shake her head sadly. “Bethany, I don’t think it’s a good idea. You remember what happened last time.”
She did. She remembered all too well how her grandmother’s brother, her great-uncle Reuben, had nearly set her grandmother’s house on fire. He’d g
otten drunk while grilling, and an overreaction to a flare-up had sent flaming burger patties straight into a pile of cardboard boxes on the porch. His wife, Great-Aunt Wendy, had screamed at him the whole time, as if that would help to calm the flames that were licking their way toward the house. Bethany, ever the problem-solver, had immediately worked to put out the flames, but Uncle Reuben had stumbled into her, shoving her hands-first into the fire. She’d ended up in the ER all night with blistered palms and a deep-seated desire to never see those people again.
No wonder Grandmother hadn’t warned her in advance.
“So why are you even going?” Her question to herself was voiced aloud, but her answer was silent.
Because of that freaking promise. Dad, if you knew what this was going to cost me, would you have put me in this situation?
She wasn’t sure. But in any case, she’d do what she had to do to protect that horrible old woman.
For her father’s sake. Semper fi.
She took her time getting dressed. After all, it wasn’t like she wanted to be in her grandmother’s company any more than she had to be. Especially after the most recent violation she’d so cavalierly tossed Bethany’s way.
Clothes. Makeup. Hair. Bethany sighed as she turned off her curling iron. At least if the whole group of them was arrested for a public WWE-style brawl, her mug shot would look pretty good.
If she still had all her teeth. Aunt Wendy had a mean right hook. She’d witnessed it being aimed at Uncle Reuben plenty of times.
A soft trilling from her bedroom wrenched a groan from her.
Phone ringing again.
For a moment she was tempted to let voicemail have it. That way, if the caller had the last name of Yelverton, she’d be saved from having to lie about her plans for the day. And if it was Grandmother? Well, she’d be seeing her soon enough anyway.
But ignoring problems wasn’t inside Bethany’s comfort zone. With a curse, she sprinted toward the bedroom, skidding to a stop in front of the bedside table.
Her heart did a little turn and skip when she saw the name flashing on the screen. With a quick breath to compose herself, she swiped the answer button.