by Jaci J
“T!” BAILEY SHOUTS at me. I’ve never heard her raise her voice, and that shit does the goddamn trick. “What the fuck are you doing?”
Breathing hard, I try like a motherfucker to calm my anger, but it’s not fucking easy. I’m running on adrenaline and blind rage.
Bailey’s eyes are wide and angry.
Why’s she angry?
I’m fucking angry.
Fuck her and her anger.
Fuck this guy for touching her.
I fucking hate myself for caring, but I do.
Fuck, do I care.
Gun at the motherfucker’s head, I circle him, ready to end his life. My finger is millimeters away from pulling the trigger, and I’m having a hard time talking myself out of pulling it. I should kill him for touching what’s mine, and add an extra bullet or two just for the other women he’s been accused of touching too.
I know exactly who he is and what he’s trying to do up here with Bailey.
“Let her go,” I bark, shoving the barrel into his skull, making his head jerk forward.
His hand instantly falls away from her body and she shoots out of his lap, standing up and walking toward the busted ass door.
Standing near it, she watches me, her eyes boring into me.
“Go outside, Bailey.”
“No.” She holds fast, eyes hard.
“Bailey,” I warn, jerking my chin up at the door. “Go!”
“No.”
“Goddamn it, Bailey. Go!”
She gives me a look, and I get exactly what she’s saying. She’s not leaving this room without me, and there’s not a fucking thing I can say or do to change her mind.
Fucking woman.
“Come with me,” she demands, holding her hand out. I know her game; she’s playing me. She knows goddamn well that if I go with her, I won’t be in this room alone with this asshole, a gun to his head, and a possible bullet lodged in his brain. “T?” she coos softly, changing her tactics.
Jesus Christ.
She fucking wins.
How the fuck could she not?
“You got five fucking seconds to get up and walk the fuck out of here before I make it so you’re leaving in a body bag. You ever come back here and touch my girl again, I won’t be so goddamn nice.”
The motherfucker bolts out of the chair like it’s on fire and runs to the door, not stopping to look back.
Bailey stares at me for a moment before exploding. “What the fuck was that?”
Gone is concern, and it it’s place—crazy.
“That was me keeping that piece of shit’s hands off of you.”
She crosses her arms over her nearly naked chest and steps away from me. “How did you even know he touched me?”
That’s fucking cute.
“You think I was just going to let your ass walk up in here with another man without me watching that shit on CC TV in the security booth?” I shout at her.
I wish I could control the anger. It’s not her fault, but fuck!
Her pretty little mouth drops open and she blinks twice, slowly, surprised as hell. “T,” she says, bewilderment in her voice.
“Tyler,” I correct her, tired of that shit. My brothers call me T. Bitches on the street call me T. Friends of friends call me T. Bailey calls me what she wants to call me, but right now, it’s not going to be T.
“What?”
“Name’s Tyler, so you fucking call me Tyler.”
“You’re crazy, Tyler,” she spits, tossing her hands in the air.
She’s not wrong.
I am fucking crazy.
We all are. When you live the way we do, being part of this club, there’s not a chance in hell you’d be anything other than fucking insane. “Goddamn right I am. Did you want his hands on you?”
She bites her lip, looking down at the floor, embarrassed. Her eyes tell me everything I need to know. “Well, no, but—”
“No, that’s it. You didn’t want his hands on you, and I fucking stopped that shit real goddamn quick since he wasn’t listening to you.”
“With a gun to his head?”
We’re still standing in one of the private rooms, the door hanging off its hinges and cracked down the middle. Bailey is damn near naked, wearing some lacy skintight dress thing, her tits and ass out, and me with a gun in my hand.
We’re both fucking crazy.
“Yeah, baby, with a gun to his head. That’s how I do shit.”
“So, what? You get mad at me and pull a gun on me?”
I can’t believe she’s asking that shit. Not that I believe she actually thinks that, but just hearing that shit come from her mouth makes it worse.
We may not know each other outside of this strip club, but it’s been a whole fucking year, at least two days a week, we’ve been spending time together. Hours together. May not be how you normally meet someone, but that’s how we met, and since we’ve met I know goddamn well she knows me. She knows me well enough to know that I’d never lay a hand on her, let alone pull a gun on her.
I don’t even answer that question. “Don’t be fucking stupid, Bailey.”
“I’m not being stupid, Tyler, I’m concerned.”
“That why you walked out of my club the other day? Concern?”
“Yes.”
“You think I’m gonna hurt you?” I growl, walking toward her, putting my gun away and grabbing her when I get within reach of her.
She doesn’t tense or pull away.
She tips her head back and looks up at me defiantly. “No.”
“Then what the fuck’s the issue?” I need to get rid of the issue because I want her.
I want her even when she’s telling me no.
I’m not much better than that asshole I just ran out of here because I don’t take no for an answer either.
Bailey lets me pull her into me, though. Lets me wrap my arms around her and lift her up.
“I don’t know,” she says quietly, some of that fight in her disappearing when I touch her.
“You do know. You’ve been holding me off for months, and as soon as I get your ass in my bed, you go running when shit gets a little crazy.”
“More than a little crazy. Someone was shooting at your club.”
“Oh yeah? How the fuck you figure that?”
“You went running out of your room with a fucking gun and left me alone with one. If I had to guess, I’d guess it wasn’t good.”
“Maybe it wasn’t, but baby, that shit isn’t for you to worry about. You just gotta know that when you’re with me, you’re good. Not a damn thing touches you.”
She smirks. “Except you and your crazy.”
“Yeah, except me and my fucking crazy.”
BAILEY
“What the fuck was that, Coco?” Sonny bellows, grabbing my elbow and pulling me off to the side when I make it out the door and back toward the main area of the club. “Your friend broke my damn door!”
T narrows his eyes down at Sonny before pulling me away from him, putting his body between us. “You got a problem with something I do, then you bring that shit to me. Keep my woman out of it.”
His woman?
Whoa. Whoa.
Sonny balks, swallowing roughly. “Yeah, well, that door cost a lot of money. Now I’ve got to send someone to get one hire a handyman to put it on.”
He won’t look T in the eye.
He makes him nervous.
T just grunts in response and reaches into his back pocket, pulling out his wallet and a couple of bills. “Here, this’ll cover the door, and I’ll send a prospect over here to put it up. We straight?” He gives Sonny three-hundred bucks and a look that says he’d better take what he’s offering without saying shit.
Sonny looks at the bills. “Uh, yeah. Okay.”
T doesn’t say anything else. He just grabs my hand and starts walking, pulling me along behind him.
Do I think T will hurt me? No. But that doesn’t mean I’ll just give in and submit. I know I can’t. I know I shouldn’t.<
br />
But knowing and doing are two very different things.
“I’m not going home with you,” I tell him, digging in my heels halfway down the back hall.
“Good, because we’re goin’ to your place anyway.”
“Like hell we are.”
“You gonna fight me about every goddamn thing?” he growls, his voice like sandpaper, course and rough against my skin.
It makes me shiver.
He gives me a rush of excitement, lust, exhilaration. But with those come the bad rushes. One’s of uncertainty, distrust, worry. The mix of both confuse the hell out of me.
I’ve got plans, and falling in love isn’t part of those plans.
“We’re not having sex,” I relent, walking away from him and toward the dressing room, because I know he’s not letting me go far.
“We fucking are.”
“No, we’re fucking not.”
His face darkens. “We’ll see.”
“We won’t be having sex.”
_______________
I’ve never been shy or ashamed of my body. Never been one to hide it or cover it in baggy clothes. I think I have a decent figure. Nice tits, a great ass, and a somewhat flat stomach. But having Tyler watch me the way he does has me second-guessing every inch of myself, thinking about every dimple, stretchmark, bruise, and lump.
His eyes are hungry, his stare greedy.
I watch his eyes linger on every inch of my body as I change.
Pulling my dress down my chest and over my stomach, T watches as my tits spring free from the material. He watches as I shimmy it past my hips and bend over to pull it from around my ankles.
He watches me with little to no expression on his face.
“You’re making me feel like there’s something wrong with me,” I say matter-of-factly, standing in front of him, completely naked.
I look down at myself, wondering what he thinks when he sees me.
I know what other men see, but Tyler isn’t other men.
He drags his eyes up to mine and frowns. “Not a goddamn thing wrong with you, baby. That’s the problem.”
“I’m a problem?” I ask, lips pursed.
“Have been for about a year.”
He walks toward me, and my first instinct isn’t to move, but to stand still and wait for him. I have to force my feet to step back, and when I do, he chuckles darkly at my sad attempt at getting away from him. “That was fucking cute, you trying to dodge me,” he growls quietly, grabbing me around the back of my neck. Gripping me tightly, he leans in and kisses me roughly.
His lips are hard and demanding, and so are mine. I kiss him back with just as much heat and need.
“You’re a fucking addiction, Doll.”
“You’re not much better.”
The smooth material of his cut rubs against my sensitive nipples, making me shiver.
“You rubbing your tits on me makes it hard for me to believe that no sex bullshit you were spewing a minute ago,” he murmurs against my lips, his breath warm and minty.
“You kissed me first,” I sigh, pulling away from him. He doesn’t let me get far, his hand on my lower back keeping me close.
“You didn’t tell me no.”
“You didn’t ask,” I proclaim, looking up at his ruggedly handsome face.
A slow, nasty smirk tugs at the corner of his lips. “Never going to either. I don’t ask, Bailey. I do whatever the fuck I want, whenever the fuck I want.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.” His voice is stern. He’s not kidding.
“Me too.”
T smiles, but his eyes darken, looking proud. “Good.”
There’s that rush again. A rush of need heading straight between my thighs.
Rolling my eyes, I push away from him, putting space between us. Much needed space. “I need to get dressed and I’m driving myself home.”
“Want you on my bike.”
“Wanted you to let this go,” I toss back. “Yet here you are.”
“On my bike, Bailey.”
“No deal. Now let me get dressed, beast.”
Stepping back, he throws a hand out toward the lockers. “Get dressed before I bend you over that bench and fuck you until your legs give out, and then toss your ass on the back of my bike.”
“T,” I whine, my head shaking.
The man is crazy.
“Yeah, baby?”
“Don’t.”
He smirks. “Don’t what?”
“Make this shit harder on me than it needs to be.”
8
T
BAILEY’S COOKING. SHE’S mad at me, but she’s still cooking. Wearing next to nothing, she pulls something out the oven and drops it onto the counter with a thud, a frown all over that pretty face of hers when she looks at me with so much goddamn attitude, it damn near chokes me.
“Here ya go,” she scoffs.
Chuckling, I grab the fork from the counter and go in, no plate needed. Shit tastes like heaven. Some green enchilada chicken deal, and swear to Christ, her food makes me want to fuck her more.
A man only needs a few things: his bike, his brothers, his bitch and her cooking.
I’m a simple motherfucker.
She watches me eat, her arms crossed and lips pursed. She wants me to say something negative so she can lay into me. It’s fucking adorable.
“You gonna stand there and watch me eat this shit, or you gonna get rid of that bad ass attitude and come over here and let me feed you?”
It’s almost laughable how she’s acting like she doesn’t want me here, yet just a few days ago, she was so goddamn happy to see me after me being gone for over a month. Hell, the woman damn near went into heat when I put my hands and mouth on her just an hour ago.
Crazy bitch.
“You’re not feeding me.”
“Stop acting like a bitch and get the fuck over here.”
Bailey’s frown deepens as she waves a spatula in the air. “Don’t call me a bitch.”
“Didn’t. Said stop acting like one. Know you’re not. Big fucking difference.”
She rolls her eyes. “Kind of funny how I didn’t even want you here, yet here you are, eating my food and calling me a bitch.”
“You’re trying to pick a fight, and that shit’s not gonna work. I’m too goddamn happy right now.”
“Yeah? And why is that?” she huffs, tossing the spatula into the sink.
“Got a beautiful woman cooking me dinner. What the fuck do I have to be mad about?”
“Still not getting any pussy.”
“You keep saying that, but baby, you’re standing there wearing nothing but a sports bra and tiny as fuck shorts. It wouldn’t take much for me to remove them from your body.”
“I’ll fight you.”
“Good. I like a good fight.”
She makes the mistake of turning her back on me. I’m up and out of my seat in a heartbeat. Walking right up behind her, I wrap my arms around her, caging her against the kitchen counter. “You wanna test me?” I ask against her ear, my chin on her soft shoulder, my teeth sinking into her smooth skin.
She moans.
“Not telling me no, Doll Face.
“Tyler,” she growls, pushing against me weakly with her back. “I never said I didn’t want to, just that I shouldn’t.”
“You got somethin’ against bikers?” I question, getting a little fucking annoyed.
“I’ve got something against men who’ll break my heart and drag it through the mud. I got something against men in general. We’re never going to work, so why bother?”
“Why bother?”
“Yeah. We won’t work.”
“Yeah? You psychic now?”
That’s her, making excuses.
“No, but I just know. I know you’re going to fuck up my life and break my heart.”
“You got a heart, Doll?” I joke, hating how this conversation is going.
That shit makes me mad, though, that some asshole got he
r to this point. I’m not a nice guy, not some Casanova, but I don’t treat women like trash, especially not someone like Bailey. So the fact that she’s pushing me away before I even have a chance pisses me the fuck off.
“Bullshit, baby.”
“Life, Tyler.”
“Not life with me.”
“No?”
“I wouldn’t do that shit to you,” I tell her, turning her around and lifting her up, putting her on the counter in front of me. “Gotta give me a fucking chance.”
I mean that shit. I can’t promise her a damn thing, but what I can promise her is that I won’t intentionally hurt her. Not like she’s expecting me to.
“I don’t know that.” She puts her hand on my chest, trying to push me away.
I look at her, my stare hard. “You do.”
“But that’s the thing. I love that you’re bad, but I know it’s bad for me.”
“Me?” I chuckle, patting my own chest. “I’m bad? The only bad one in this room is you.”
The bitch has the potential to ruin me.
She sighs, her hands on my shoulders slipping under my cut. “The only thing I’m bad at it telling you no,” she murmurs, her eyes watching her hands wander over my shoulders and back.
“Here’s a fucking idea. How about you stop saying it then.”
Because that’d be a fucking ace for me.
“T…” She shivers when I put both of my hands on top of her smooth thighs, my fingers dragging back and forth across her soft skin.
“You gonna say the words I wanna hear so I can feed your ass and then fuck you?”
“What words?”
“Tell me I can take these panties off and bury my face between your thighs.”
“I’m saving myself for marriage,” she retorts, chin up and out like a defiant little shit who’s got it all figured out.
“You know how many women would jump at the chance to get my cock? Some females would kill for it.”
Cocking her head, she snorts. “Then help me off this counter and get to gettin’. Don’t leave them waiting, baby.”
I laugh, head thrown back. Fuck, she’s funny. “Mouthy bitch.”
“You like me mouthy.”
“Goddamn right. No other woman on the planet talks to me the way you talk to me and gets away with it.”
That’s the truth.
I don’t hit women. I don’t put my hands on a female out of anger. But I also don’t tolerate their bullshit and smart mouths.