by Cameron Hart
“Shania Twain,” she says.
“What?”
“Your karaoke song. Don’t think I forgot,” she grins. “I think you should do Man! I feel like a woman.”
“I’ll have you know, that happens to be one of my favorite songs. Challenge accepted.” I give her my most devious smile, which earns me a small laugh. Good. I want her to laugh more often.
“You still owe me a shot. Then you can do your song.”
We step back up to the bar and I order another shot of whiskey and more tequila. Afterwards, I put on my best performance as I sing off key and do suggestive dance moves the entire time. Kennedy rolls her eyes at first, but then starts giggling and getting into it. People have started clapping along to the song, cheering me on. I look like a total fool, but I know I’d do it again in a heartbeat if it meant getting Kennedy to smile that goofy ass smile like she is right now.
“Okay, that was pretty impressive,” she laughs.
“Thank you, thank you,” I bow dramatically at her compliment.
“Now, me. What song should I do?”
My eyebrows shoot up in surprise. This is not at all how I thought this night would turn out. It’s a thousand times better.
“Def Leppard. Pour Some Sugar On Me.”
Her eyes grow dark and my dick is suddenly taking notice. “Challenge accepted,” she grins, throwing my words right back at me. She throws back the rest of my whiskey and marches up on stage once she’s made her request.
Kennedy turns her back to the audience while the opening riffs play. With the first lyrics, she looks over her shoulder, catching my eye. As the verse goes on, she turns and reveals more of herself. She’s fucking sexy up there, swinging her hips and belting out the classic rock song.
When the chorus hits, Kennedy turns to the side, giving me her profile as one hands slides down her body.
Fuck. Me.
I make my way closer to the small stage, locking eyes with her. She finishes out the song, staring only at me. Jesus. This is the most sexually charged moment of my whole goddamn life, and we’re both fully clothed, and in public.
When she’s done, Kennedy puts the mic back in its stand and makes her way over to me across the stage. She stumbles a bit, tipsy on those tall heels of hers. I grab her hips and pull her down into my arms, sliding her down my body very slowly. I know she feels my hard cock digging into her soft body.
“Oh!” She gasps and then giggles again.
I want to kiss her so goddamn bad. Need it. But she’s drunk. I’d never take advantage of her, and I don’t want her to regret anything that happens between us.
“How about I give you a ride home?”
“Ooooh! On your bike?” She looks like a kid on Christmas, that excitement in her eye is contagious.
“Yeah, sweetheart. I want you to ride my big, thick… bike.”
Her eyes go wide at my obvious innuendo. I think she might slap me, but instead she bursts out laughing. My pride should probably be hurt by that, but I find I don’t really care as long as she’s happy.
We walk out of the bar, her hand looped around my arm for support as she stumbles on those dang heels. I get on the bike and then instruct her on swinging her leg over and holding on to me. She gives me the address of the motel she’s staying at and we take off into the night.
I feel Kennedy’s warmth radiating off of her as she hugs me tightly. Her face nuzzles in between my shoulder blades, her perky tits press against my back, her thighs squeezing around mine. Fuck, she feels perfect.
All too soon, we arrive at the motel. I get off and offer my hand to help her. Kennedy’s foot falters and she falls into me again. She’s totally wasted, and I don’t like the fact that she could be going home with another guy in this state of mind.
“Give me the key,” I tell her, perhaps a little more gruffly than I should.
Without hesitation, she digs in her purse and produces the key card to her room. Not smart. She’s lucky it’s me and not some random asshole from that bar. I try not to think about that as I scoop her up in my arms.
She doesn’t fight me at all, another sign of how drunk she is. In fact, Kennedy curls up in my arms and rests her head on my shoulder.
“Can I tell you something?”
I stop and look down at her. “Anything.”
She bites her lip and lifts her mouth to my ear. “I want you.”
I groan at her words, closing my eyes. This is all I’ve been thinking of for two goddamn weeks. But not like this.
When I open my eyes again, I see Kennedy staring at me with such intensity. It’s more than lust. She doesn’t just want my body. What terrifies me is that I don’t just want her body either. For a brief moment, I imagine what it would be like to have everything with her.
“I want you too, baby girl.”
“You do?” She asks in disbelief.
I nod.
Kennedy lays her head back down on my shoulder and closes her eyes. “No one’s ever really wanted me,” she whispers.
God fucking damnit. What is this ache in my chest? Why can’t I breathe? How can hearing those words come out of her mouth cause me physical pain?
I have no idea what to say to that, but luckily I don’t have to respond. Kennedy is snoring softly in my arms. She’s pretty fucking cute.
I open her door with her still in my arms. She stirs a little but doesn’t wake up. I pull the covers back on the queen sized bed and gently lay her down. I take of her shoes and socks but manage to stop myself from peeling any more clothing off of her sexy body. I pull the blankets over her and return in a few minutes with a glass of water, setting on the table beside her bed.
I’m about to leave when her tiny hand reaches out for mine.
“Thank you,” she mumbles.
I bring her hand up to my lips and place a soft kiss on her knuckles. Who knew I was capable of such things?
“Get some sleep, sweetheart.”
She nods and curls up into a little ball with just her face peeking out from under the covers. She’s adorable. And she’s going to have a hell of a hangover tomorrow.
Chapter 7
Kennedy
Oh my god.
I’m dying. I’m sure of it. What the fuck did I do last night? I try to sit up but end up flopping back down in bed when the pounding behind my eyes threatens to make me throw up.
Lying in bed, the memories flood back. Hearing about Tim. Going to the shitty bar by my motel. Running into Slash. Tequila. So much tequila. And karaoke. Slash must have taken me back here last night, but I don’t have any memory of that.
My phone beeps next to me, causing me to groan in pain.
It’s a text from Slash. We exchanged numbers during that first meeting, but so far neither one of us has contacted the other.
Slash: You alive, sweetheart?
Ugh, I hate that I kind of love his stupid names for me. It’s not good that they are growing on me.
Me: Sorry, the person you are trying to reach is unavailable due to the fact that they are regretting all of their choices of the previous twelve hours.
Slash: You making jokes now? That’s my thing.
Me: I don’t have enough brain cells left to make jokes. I left them all at the bottom of a shot glass last night.
Slash: Yeah, you hit it pretty hard. You still up for our meeting with River today?
Me: SHIT
Slash: You’re not late or anything. That’s why I wanted to check in.
Huh. That’s… sweet of him. But, shit, my car is still at the bar. And by the time I get ready, order an Uber, and drive to the clubhouse, I’ll for sure be cutting it close. As if reading my mind, Slash sends another text.
Slash: Need a ride to the bar?
Slash: For your car. Not for tequila.
Me: Oh my god, please don’t ever say the T word around me again.
Me: And… yeah. That would actually be super helpful.
Me: But please tell me you have a car. I don’t think
I can take a ride on your bike right now.
Slash: Yeah, sweetheart. I have a car.
Me: Oh thank fuck.
Slash: Be there in 20?
Me: Perfect. Thanks again.
Slash: See you soon
I slowly will myself out of bed and take the quickest shower known to man, before running a comb through my hair and trying to cover up the dark circles under my eyes. I search through my bag for an outfit but can’t seem to stomach the idea of putting on a pantsuit right now. There’s something about being in professional clothes while sporting a nasty hangover that makes everything so much worse.
Instead, I opt for a stretchy pair of skinny jeans and a plain white t-shirt. I complete my hangover-chic look with a baseball cap and aviators. I should probably care more about my appearance, but it’s not like anyone at Chaos is going to judge me for wearing jeans instead of work slacks.
I slip my red Converse shoes on right as Slash knocks on my door. Loudly. Much too loudly.
“There she is,” Slash laughs. “How are you feeling?”
“About as good as I look,” I deadpan.
His eyes roam up and down my body and I fight the urge to slam the door in his face. Not out of anger, but embarrassment.
“Well you look great.”
“Yeah, right,” I grumble as I fold my arms over my chest in an attempt to shield myself from his scrutiny.
Since he can’t see much of my face thanks to the baseball cap and the sunglasses, I take my time searching his face. I don’t find any trace of sarcasm though. His eyes are soft and his smile is warm. It’s a new look for Slash, and I can’t say I don’t like it.
“I like you in jeans and a t-shirt,” he says quietly. Slash clears his throat and hands me a cup of coffee and a paper bag I didn’t notice before.
“What’s this?”
“My hangover cure. Results guaranteed.”
“You seem pretty confident,” I grin.
“Would you really expect anything different from me, sweetheart?”
I can’t help the stupid smile that takes over my face at hearing him call me that.
“I didn’t know how you like your coffee. There’s cream and sugar in the bag.”
I nod, still unsure what to do with this nice version of Slash.
“So,” he continues. “Step one. Coffee. If you open the bag, you’ll see steps two and three. A bagel and a bottle of Gatorade, respectively.”
“Bagel, huh?”
“Yup. Most people go for the greasy foods, but I’m a personal believer in the power of carbs.”
I chuckle a little at his endearing response. “For once, we agree on something!”
Slash flashes me that devastating grin of his. He’s seriously too hot for his own good. Or, for my own good, really. I sip at my coffee so I don’t do something stupid like tell him how sexy he is.
“Careful there, Kennedy. You’re bordering on complimenting me.” His voice is all low and gravelly, and yup, my pussy clenches.
He has a dangerous glint in his eyes, like he knows exactly what he’s doing to me and he wants me to act on my desires. But then he schools his face and he’s back to his playful self.
“C’mon, let’s get going, slugger,” he grins again, flicking the bill of my cap.
“OW! I’m nursing a bitch of a hangover here, remember?”
“Oh, I remember plenty, sweetheart.”
I can feel my eyes bulge out of my head. I figured he took me home last night but did we…
Oh my god. Oh my god. Fuck. Did we…
My face flushes red and my head dips down. I can’t look at him. Fuck. No wonder he’s being so nice to me. As if reading my thoughts, Slash reaches out and tilts my head up with a finger and thumb lightly pinching my chin.
“Nothing happened. I just gave you a ride home and made sure you got to bed.”
I nod slowly, taking in his words.
His fingers trail up my jaw and the side of my cheek. Then, he gently takes my sunglasses off so he can look into my eyes. I can’t help but hold his gaze. Slash leans in close and runs his thumb across my lips. I know he can feel me practically panting at his touch, my heart beating out of my chest.
“When I finally sink into your sweet pussy, you’ll remember every second. You’ll beg me to go deeper, faster, harder. And I’ll give it to you.”
He seals his declaration by kissing me on the cheek and whispering into the shell of my ear.
“I’ll always give you want you want.”
Slash hooks my sunglasses into the collar of my shirt and then turns on his heel and walks towards the car, leaving me breathless.
✽✽✽
Three hours later, the guys and I are finally done with our meeting. We’ve nailed down the details, and all that’s left to do is for me to brief my team and get the all-clear from my boss. I’ll probably have to head to San Fran for a few days, which is for the best. I think Slash and I need some space.
My head is saying one thing, but again, my body revolts. Heat pools in my belly when I think of what he said this morning
“You’ll beg me to go deeper, faster, harder.”
This time, however, it’s not just my body that is betraying my mind. It’s my heart. My stupid, stupid heart. The idea of giving Slash space, of not seeing him almost every day, of being in a different town than him… well, I don’t want to think about that. I can’t give voice to the confusing feelings swirling inside of me.
“Kennedy!” Mia’s voice rips me out of my thoughts.
“Hey, Mia, I was just heading out.” I brush past her and head toward the door. I really, really don’t need her to tell me how great a guy Slash is, or to encourage me to pursue him in any way whatsoever.
“What are you up to tonight?”
“Huh?” Her question catches me off guard. I turn to face her, wondering what her angle is.
“Would you want to come back here for drinks?”
Oh god, I can’t even think about alcohol right now. My stomach twists in protest, even as I try to reassure it I won’t be consuming that poison for a very long time. Mia must be able to sense my unease. Either that, or I legit look about as close to throwing up as I feel.
“Or no drinks,” she offers quickly. “Some of the girls and I are hanging out tonight and we wanted to know if you’d like to join us.”
“Me?”
“Yeah, you,” Mia laughs so sweetly. “And don’t worry, you won’t be the only one not drinking. Obviously. I’m pregnant and so is Beth, Dom’s girl.”
I don’t know how to respond to her invitation. She can’t possibly want to hang out with me just because, right? This is just a job for me, I’m only around temporarily. Why would she want to make friends?
“Stop thinking about it so much, just say yes!”
I narrow my eyes at her but then laugh. “How did you know what I was thinking?”
“Because I’ve seen that look before. I’ve done my fair share of getting the old ladies of Chaos to open up and accept my friendship,” Mia winks.
“I’m no one’s old lady, Mia,” I huff, knowing full well the term used in MC’s to refer to as belonging to one of the guys.
“Okay, okay, my bad. I won’t talk about Slash at all, I promise. We just want to get to know you.”
“Why? So you can vet me for Slash?” I bite out. Part of me feels a little guilty getting snippy with the cute, friendly, pregnant Mia, but she needs to mind her own business.
“No, not at all. I’m sorry I brought it up. You’ve been here for a few weeks now and I only ever see you have meetings and then go back to your motel. Aren’t you lonely?”
“I… I guess I’ve never really thought about it. This is pretty much how my life is even when I’m not here,” I tell her honestly. “God, that makes me sound kind of pathetic, huh?”
“Not at all! It just means you should probably come have a drink tonight. A non-alcoholic drink, from the looks of things,” she grins.
I slowly
nod. “One drink. Of ice water. And if anyone at the table has tequila, I’m leaving.”
Mia laughs. “Deal! Yay!” She claps her hands together excitedly, which makes me smile despite my reservations. Her energy is contagious. “Meet us here at seven. The girls are going to be so excited! You will love Claire and Liv. And Beth is amazing. She’s a totally unexpected badass.”
“Seven it is. Remember, just one drink. And no talk of Slash.”
Mia just beams and then spins away, no doubt to tell the other girls about me joining them.
By the time I get back to my motel room, I have totally spun out of control. Why did I agree to go to drinks? I’ve never needed friends before, so why start now? What is it about this place that makes me want things I’ve never had before?
I don’t do relationships of any kind. Work has always been enough. I will admit that working with some of the other guys at Chaos and seeing how they treat their women has created a weird sort of pain in my chest. For a bunch of rough bikers, the guys at Chaos truly do cherish the women in their lives. I’ve seen the way River gets all soft for his wife, Stacy. And how the usually quiet and gruff Dom turns into an absolute teddy bear around Beth. I wonder if Slash has ever had anyone like that. Was there ever a woman who brought out another side to him?
You could.
No. I can’t have those thoughts. My body and heart already seem to be caught up in the fantasy, but my mind has to stay the course, damnit. Still, as I think about the conversation I had with Mia, I know part of me accepted the invitation tonight in hopes of seeing Slash. The girls night is just an excuse to get me back to the bar.
Damn, Mia sure knows what she’s doing.
Chapter 8
Slash
“How are things going with Kennedy?” Carter asks.
I shrug, not wanting him to know exactly how much space she’s been taking up in my mind, especially after last night and this morning. Fuck, seeing her in those tight jeans and a t-shirt was such a fucking turn on. How the hell was she able to look so damn gorgeous in the middle of a hangover?
“Things are fine,” I reply as nonchalantly as possible.