by Penny Dee
Willing myself to leave the bed, I close my eyes, but then her fingers start to move against my skin, and her hand slips down my chest and comes to rest on my belly just above the fine trail of hair disappearing beneath my jeans. The delicate little sweeps of her fingertips make my skin burn and my body shiver with lust. I keep my eyes closed. Remain still. If I don’t move, I’ll be fine. She’ll slip back into her dreams, and her hand will become heavy and still as she falls deeper into sleep.
Except she doesn’t.
Instead, her fingers dance across my belly to my hip bone and a sweet, blissful murmur falls between us as she shifts onto her side to nestle her body closer to mine.
“Jack.” The whisper falls from her succulent lips with a heavenly sigh.
She’s dreaming about me, and the idea does crazy shit to my insides. Bronte sighs again, and this time it’s a soft, gentle whimper I feel all the way along my hard-as-stone erection. I stifle a groan. I’m not sure how much more of this I can bear. Her fingers are inches away from the rigid outline of my cock, and more than anything in the world, I want them to crawl lower. Now, I will them to move, will her to touch me. Even though I know it’s wrong, my willpower has left town with my sobriety, and I’m not looking for it anytime soon.
I want Bronte to touch me.
I swallow back my need, but her fingers begin to move again. Lower this time. Slow and teasing. Every cell in my body is begging them to slide toward the hardness in my jeans. To touch me. To bring an end to this crushing want.
My eyes flick open, and reality rushes in.
Goddammit! What the hell am I thinking?
I sit up and pull away from Bronte who wakes with a start.
“What happened?” she asks breathlessly. Rumpled with sleep and disorientated, she looks like a beautiful dream with her blonde hair falling around her sweet face and over her naked shoulders in thick, unkempt waves.
I bite back every primal urge that’s begging me to kiss her. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.” I run my hands down my face. Christ, I have never been so tempted by anything my whole life. “You should go back to sleep.”
“Are you mad at me?”
I look at her. “Why would I be mad at you?”
“Because I slept here last night? I didn’t think you’d mind.” She sinks her teeth into her lower lip, and the look on her face makes me fight another groan.
“If you stay the night in this clubhouse, then you stay nowhere but this room, you understand me, wildflower? I can sleep somewhere else in the future.”
The last thing I need is to lose her to the shadowy depths of this clubhouse. Not that my brothers will touch her, they all know it would be suicide if they do.
“I remember being tired, so I came in here.” Her lashes drop, and when she lifts them again, I fall into the deep ocean of her blue eyes. “But things are a bit hazy after that. I don’t recall you coming in. I hope it’s okay I slept here.”
I want to tell her that she’s welcome in my bed with me anytime. But that kind of invitation will only expose me to too much temptation, and a man only has so much willpower. It’ll be better if I control my environment and limit the exposure to enticement than rely on a finite amount of self-restraint. In the future, if Bronte spends the night in my room, I will spend it elsewhere.
I give her a reassuring smile that hides my discomfort and belies my aching cock.
Christ, what the hell is wrong with me?
“Come on,” I say, desperate to leave the bed. “Let’s get some coffee and check out the fucking carnage we left behind in the clubhouse.”
BRONTE
The clubhouse is a wreck. Beer bottles and empty glasses litter the tables, and as we move through the chaos of the overturned chairs and other things strewn across the room, pretzels and peanuts crunch underfoot. More than anything, though, it stinks to high heaven with spilled liquor, stale weed, sweat, and sex. You name it, and it’s here.
Passed out on one of the couches, Wyatt cuddles a blow-up sex toy. While in the far corner, Ghoul is being ridden by a naked club girl. Unfortunately, we have to pass by them to get to the kitchen.
“Jesus Christ, Ghoul. Our clubhouse has a gazillion fucking rooms, and you choose a corner of the bar to get laid?” Jack says as we near them.
Ghoul lets out a pleasurable grunt, then moans, “I’ll take it where I can get it, brother.”
“Then get it in your bedroom,” Jack growls.
Ghoul lets out another groan while the girl on top simply keeps riding him as if we aren’t even there.
I wish I could say I looked away as we passed by, but it’s like watching an accident unfold. You don’t want to look, but you can’t drag your eyes away.
Then Ghoul starts to come, and not only do we get to hear him, but we also get to see the moment he goes rigid and empties himself inside the club girl.
Shading my eyes, I hurry past them. “My eyes are bleeding,” I say as we step into the kitchen. “Not to mention my ears.”
Jack’s brows knit together. He’s not impressed, but he also seems preoccupied with something.
Thankfully, Dolly is in the kitchen and has put on a new pot of coffee. Looking glamorous with fresh makeup and her hair done, she appears out of place amongst all the chaos and seedy aftermath of a clubhouse party.
Her eyes sparkle. “Well, don’t you two look like the party’s well and truly over. Coffee?”
“Yes, please.” I’m ready to murder a cup and accept it from her hungrily.
“What about you, honey?” she asks Jack.
He nods and takes a cup, but he seems far away. Jack’s definitely distracted, and I wonder if he’s thinking about waking up next to me like I’m thinking about how much I want him to keep waking up next to me.
“I’ll be in my office,” he says gruffly. “Let me know when you want a ride home.”
Dolly and I exchange looks.
Something is definitely up with him, and it’s more than a sore head.
As I sit at the long dining table, Sebastian and Riley walk in. Riley is as fresh as a daisy while Sebastian looks a sickly shade of green and has hickeys all the way up his neck.
“What the hell? Who gave you those?” I ask.
Sitting down with a mug of coffee, he looks at me over his sunglasses. “A lady doesn’t kiss or tell,” he says with a mischievous glint in his eyes.
“Oh, honey, there are no ladies here,” Riley says with a wink as she slides into the chair next to him. “I think we all proved that last night.”
“Speak for yourself,” I murmur.
“What, no ride for our motorcycle princess?” Riley looks shocked. “The way that man was looking at you last night, girlfriend, I thought you’d be riding that king’s horse all the way to Happyland.”
“Same,” adds Sebastian.
“Like I said… it’s not like that with us.” I stare at my coffee. “I have a feeling I could be buck-naked and begging, and he wouldn’t notice.”
My friends give me a sympathetic look but don’t let me wallow in self-pity.
“Let’s get your things and go back to Nashville,” Riley says.
“Yes, we can have a hangover slumber party at your apartment.” Sebastian is trying to cheer me up. Bless him. He loves slumber parties, despite being a twenty-two-year-old male.
I smile at them both.
It’s heartwarming to know how much my friends want me to come home, but I don’t want to leave, and they can tell.
Sebastian takes off his glasses. “You’re not coming with us, are you?”
I shake my head. “No.”
Riley smiles, but it definitely doesn’t reach her eyes.
While Sebastian leans forward and gives me a wink. “Good on you, Brontosaurus.”
“Thanks for understanding, guys.”
Riley puts her cup of coffee down. “While I don’t like the idea, I at least understand it.”
“Me, too. You should definitely stay.” Sebastian s
its back and winks. “Go get him, tiger.”
Watching my friends pull away, leaves me feeling flat and alone, and Jack’s attitude toward me doesn’t help. I don’t know if it’s the alcohol talking or if my suspicions are correct, but I feel him pulling away from me this morning, and I wonder why he wants to put this distance between us.
He gives me a ride home where I shower and fix a pot of coffee. After taking a shower himself, he joins me in the kitchen and pours himself a cup, and I am excruciatingly aware of the gulf widening between us as we don’t talk.
Is it because I slept in his bed with him last night?
Did I get in the way of him having a good time?
There were lots of girls wanting his attention at the party, and I probably cramped his style.
Inwardly, I grimace.
Oh my God, he thinks I’m a giant cockblocker.
“Are you okay?” He surprises me by asking because I was about to ask him the same thing.
“I am, but are you?”
He sits at the counter. “What do you mean?”
“You’re so quiet, and I can’t help but feel like you’re angry at me.” I look at him. “Have I done something wrong?”
His tight face softens. “No.” He sighs as if he’s frustrated with himself. “I guess I’m preoccupied, is all.”
“Can I do anything? It might help to talk about it.” I lick my lower lip and notice his eyes drop to watch my tongue as I do it.
He clears his throat and stands. “No, there’s nothing you can do. This is something I have to deal with on my own.” He puts his cup down. “I’m going for a ride. Do you need me to pick anything up on the way home like milk or something?”
“No.” I put my cup down. “But do you think I can come with you?”
He pauses, and I can tell he is wrestling with the answer.
“It’d be nice to get out.” I shove my hands into my back pockets because suddenly I don’t know what to do with them. “It would be good to ride off this hangover.”
For a moment, I think he’s going to say no, but then he relaxes, and for the first time this morning, he smiles, and my stomach flips over because Jack’s smile is the most beautiful thing on this Earth.
In five minutes, we’re on the road, and I have my arms enveloped around his waist, and despite it being a cool day, I’m wrapped in the warmth of his body. I relax against him and feel the contentment warm my heart.
Tonight, I’m going to tell him how I feel.
Tell him that I feel more than just friendship.
And that I think he feels more too.
Ahead, storm clouds move quickly in the sky. Within seconds, heavy raindrops begin to fall. Jack pulls the Harley into the parking lot of the abandoned mill. The old building is gone now, torn down because it was derelict and unsafe, so we race for cover under one of the massive oak trees that line the old bus stop which once ferried the miners back and forth to town. But by the time we reach the canopy of branches, we’re drenched.
“You okay, wildflower?” He pants.
Thunder rumbles through the sky as the heavens unleash more heavy rain.
“Yes,” I say breathlessly, my face wet and my heart thumping from running, but it’s more than that that’s causing my heart to pound. It’s because of the way Jack is looking at me.
Something stirs in the afternoon. The potent energy of a summer storm. The magic of two people drawn to one another. No one but Jack and I exist in this moment, and I know he can feel it too.
It’s terrifying and confusing and exhilarating all at once.
More thunder breaks in the clouds above us as our gazes linger, and I watch as his Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows deeply. His white shirt is soaking wet and clings to his broad chest, his nipples hard, his drenched hair hanging in tendrils around his beautiful face.
It happens without thought.
One magical moment born from the rain and thunder, and a deep burning need inside me. I take a step toward him and rise on my toes to press my lips to his. It is chaste. Sweet. A pair of rain-soaked lips coming together in a burst of abandonment.
But with a deep growl, it becomes so much more as Jack takes charge and opens my mouth with a commanding kiss, his tongue sweeping deeply inside in search of mine.
A soft sound fills the space around us, and I realize it is my moan of pleasure as I fall deeper into his kiss.
Big, wet hands cup my jaw as he takes the kiss deeper, and I curl my fingers into his saturated T-shirt while I kiss him back, drowning in the sensation of his mouth owning mine.
But then with a sudden gentle push, he breaks away and tries to regain control of himself, rain drops glimmering like dew on his lips.
Our eyes meet, and I can feel the wild pounding of his heart drumming in sync with my own. The pull to kiss him again is magnetic, but I would have to be blind not to see the battle in his eyes.
His thumb grazes my cheek. “I shouldn’t have done that.”
If it wasn’t pounding so hard, my heart would’ve sunk. “Yes, you should have. Besides, we both did it. I wanted to.”
“I’m older than you. I should know better.”
“I’m not a kid anymore, Jack.”
“I can see that,” he says roughly, and the heat in his voice matches the heat in his eyes. “But I’m fifteen years too old for you.”
I lean up to kiss him again, but he stops me.
“You don’t want to kiss me?” I ask.
“Darlin’, every inch of my body is screaming at me to kiss you again. But you and me… this isn’t the way it’s meant to be for us.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m no good for you.”
A shiver of disappointment quakes through my body.
But they are only words.
Born out of fear and a ridiculous hang-up over a number.
I need to show him that our age difference means nothing to me.
So I run my fingers down his rain-drenched face, taking in the torment swirling in the dark ocean of his eyes, and the long lashes beaded with raindrops. “You’re the most beautiful man I know,” I say. “I don’t care about the age difference. I care that when I’m with you, nothing else matters.”
With a groan, his mouth sinks to mine again, and his rough hands find the small muscles of my arms as he holds me against his big body and takes the kiss deeper.
I melt against him, lost in the velvet warmth of his mouth and the stone-hard wall of his body shielding me from the rain. Fire rages through me, stoked by his tongue in my mouth and the commanding lips moving over mine.
“I want you,” I pant against his lips.
And I do.
I want him so bad, I’m ready to beg.
With one hand on his nape, the other slides down his body to palm the thickness in the front of his jeans. But with a tortured growl, Jack breaks off the kiss and holds me at arm’s length. Tormented eyes find mine as his chest heaves with his labored breath.
“We gotta stop,” he pants as rain runs down his face.
“Why?”
“Because, like I said… I’m not meant for you that way.”
Tension snaps in the air as he takes a step away.
He’s serious.
He doesn’t want this to happen.
Foolishness sweeps through me.
He still thinks I’m a little girl with fucking pigtails.
And just like that, the rain stops and all Jack’s walls go up again.
JACK
After dropping her home and calling the prospect to stop by to watch her, I escape to the clubhouse. Solely because I don’t trust myself around Bronte.
I fucking kissed her, and now I can’t get the taste of her from my lips. It lingers like a tease, making me want more. Her soft lips. The feel of her tongue. The soft moan as I devour her mouth. I’m hungry for more and hate myself for it.
She’s just a kid, you fucking creep.
I need a distraction, and the clubhouse has a lot of
it. I don’t usually go for club pussy, no smart president would, but I have an itch that needs scratching, and there are plenty of girls at the clubhouse willing to do just that.
When I ride in, it’s busy with people left over from last night’s party. Rested up, they’re ready for round two. So I head straight for the bar where Dolly pours me a shot of tequila.
“You look like you’ve been ridden hard and hung up to dry. What’s troubling you, honey?”
I throw back the shot and feel the heat light up my chest. It’s exactly what I need.
That and the feel of Bronte’s sweet lips against mine. I close my eyes at the thought. Fucking asshole.
Opening my eyes again, I look at Dolly. “You ever done anything so stupid you wondered if you were crazy?”
“Oh, honey, my whole life has been one big ride of crazy.”
In a moment of weakness, I open up to Dolly. She has a crazy way about her. She can squeeze information out of you without you even realizing it. If the FBI were smart, they’d recruit her.
“I did something stupid…” I toy with the empty shot glass, “… I kissed someone I had no business kissing.”
“This someone, did they kiss you back?”
“Enthusiastically.”
“Oh sugar, if that’s the worst thing that’s happened to you today, then I’d say today’s been a pretty good day.” She refills my glass.
“No, Dolly. This is bad.” I throw back the shot.
“Did those Fenway cousins finally get their claws into you?”
“No, I mean real bad, Dolly. The I’m a fucking asshole kind of bad.”
Our eyes meet, and the understanding hardens in her expression. “Oh, Jack.”
“I know, like I said, I’m a fucking asshole.” I nod for her to refill my glass but before she does, she reaches behind her, grabs another shot glass and lines it up next to mine. Filling them both, she throws one back herself.
“You’re not an asshole. But do yourselves both a favor and keep your cock out of her henhouse.”
I sit back in the shadows, moodily sinking tequila shots as my head and heart battle it out.