Hollywood (Steel Demons MC #7)

Chapter Eight

Winter

T orture. It was absolute fucking torture having a six-foot-four shadow with a rugged kind of beauty and a heart-stopping smile was pure torture. Hollywood had too much charm, too much magnetism. His presence was like a third person always in the room with us, laughing and smiling and teasing. They were both always there, beside me everywhere I went.

When I woke up, I had a few minutes of peace and quiet, of solitude where his voice and his scent invaded my senses. When I went to class, he was right there beside me, asking questions in that deep whiskey-soaked whisper. When I worked out, he was there shirtless with muscles and tattoos on fully display, increasing my heart rate more than my cardio. We ate every meal together and spent every waking moment together, and then when night came and my head hit the pillow, he was there again.

Naked. Naughty. Orgasmic.

When I woke up each morning, sweaty and breathless, with an unquenchable thirst and damp between my thighs, the reality of my situation was taking its toll. It had only been three weeks, and my libido was out of control and I was aroused from the moment I woke up until, well I was still waiting for the arousal to pass.

It had to eventually. Right?

A knock sounded on my bedroom door and instantly my nipples hardened. “Yeah,” I said, my voice thick with lust and need. “Come in.” This time my voice was more forceful but when the door opened, a rush of excitement escaped on along breath.

Hollywood’s gaze slid over my face and down to the swell of my breasts, which only made my nipples harder and more visible through the thin fabric. The strip of midriff on display made his nostrils flare and the answering ache between my thighs turned into a hot lava and arousal. His big hands balled into fists and his jaw clenched. Hard.

“Hollywood?” There it went again, that breathlessness that I couldn’t seem to escape when he was around. “You wanted something?”

He licked his lips, and I swear to every god in existence that I felt his tongue in places that made me hotter. Wetter. More vibrational with want. With urgent need. “Yeah.” His voice was low and deep, thick with tension. “You hungry? We’re going out for food,” he said before I could answer.

“I could eat, but I need to get ready first.” I jumped out of bed, and I enjoyed the way his gaze raked over my body. Sure, it made everything hot and I pulsed with need, but it also made it impossible to think straight.

“You have thirty minutes.”

I smiled sweetly and grabbed the hem of my tank top, yanking it over my head as I made my way towards him. “No problem.” I lied easily and brushed past him as I made my way to the bathroom and a much-needed shower. “Thirty minutes.”

Fifty minutes later, I found Hollywood waiting for me downstairs with a frown on his face that made me smile. “It’s been longer than thirty minutes.”

“True,” I agreed. “But I needed the extra time to focus since you interrupted my wake up process.”

Hollywood got to his feet and stared at me in my fitted gray denim and black tank top that I paired with black combat boots. My makeup was done, and I wore two braids that would accommodate the stupid helmet he would make me wear. “First, you’re going to help me find a place to live.”

“Property shopping? How domestic.” It was an odd request, but I went along with it because I was too fucking curious about Hollywood the man and I would do anything to spend more time with him, no matter how much it impacted my libido. “What are you looking for?”

He shrugged. “Fuck if I know, a place to lay my head that has enough room for me to breathe.” Those last words were visceral, and I knew this was important.

I couldn’t imagine what it was like in prison, and I hoped I never found out through firsthand experience. “Okay. House or apartment?”

He sighed. “I’d prefer a house, so I don’t have to share walls or hear other people that close.” It was another reminder that he was fresh from prison, and he hadn’t recovered yet, maybe he never would.

I didn’t have a clue. I wanted to ask him more about his time in prison, but it felt invasive or maybe just too intimate, which was ridiculous since we were technically living together. Instead, I flirted outrageously with him, mostly because the piranha of a realtor made it crystal clear that she wanted him all up in her real estate. “Imagine gazing up at the stars while I ride you like a motorcycle.”

Hollywood’s gaze darkened and his nostrils flared. A cough escaped and then I was rewarded with a brilliant, blinding smile. It really was a grin worthy of the big screen. “Doubt I’ll be able to stop imagining that for a long damn time, Winter.”

My pulse raced. “Good.” I wandered around the semi-furnished house thinking about how weird this was, house hunting with a man I barely knew but who was also kind of like family to me. “It’s nice. Can we rent before making a decision?”

The realtor was shocked by my question, as if she thought maybe I wasn’t any competition for her. Maybe I wasn’t, but Hollywood was helping me so the least I could do was help him in return. “I’m sure that won’t be a problem if you’re serious about buying.” Her gaze bounced from me to Hollywood in search of an answer.

“I’m serious, but she’s right. I’d like to make sure this neighborhood is for me.” His gaze flicked to mine, full of gratitude.

“Would ninety days be enough?”

“More than,” he growled and stalked over to me, wrapping an arm around my waist. “Thanks,” he whispered in my ear.

“Anytime.” That one word came out on a breathy whisper because yeah, I was turned on. Again. Or maybe still .

“We can have a lease ready in forty-eight hours,” the realtor said, breaking into our sexual tension filled staredown. “Sooner if you start the purchase process.”

“Got it. Put together an offer,” he told her, his voice firm and commanding. “This place has been on the market for six months so knock thirty grand off their asking price. If they accept it, I’ll make my decision in thirty days.”

A shiver ran down my spine at this business-y side of him.

The realtor’s eyes widened with dollar signs at Hollywood’s orders. “Absolutely. What about financing,” she asked as her gaze slid to his leather vest .

“Cash offer.”

She smiled wide and rushed to the front door, motioning us forward. “I’ll have an answer for you by end of business today, I’m sure. Pleasure doing business with you,” she told him before her gaze shot to me. “If nothing else.”

I couldn’t stop the laugh at just how forward she was being, then again, she was a woman who got what she wanted because she went after her. Hell, I could probably learn a few things from her. “She totally wanted to bang you.”

He laughed. “I’m aware.”

“Does that happen a lot?” Why would I ask such a silly question? Of course it did. Hollywood wasn’t just gorgeous and rugged, but he exuded the kind of confidence that was like catnip for any female with a pulse and a working vagina.

“Enough. Thanks for running interference.”

“Happy to help. Now, I was promised food.” I hooked my arm through his as we crossed the parking lot to his bike and pressed my body against his as the bike zipped through town, warm wind on my skin and whipping my hair behind me. Being this close to him felt good and I closed my eyes, absorbing the feel of him and the wind while the motorcycle gripped the pavement.

***

The ride ended far too soon but the pizza joint smelled heavenly and we settled into a booth that overlooked the parking lot. “So, I have a really important question Hollywood.” I leaned in close and smiled. “What do you like on your pizza?”

His smile came slowly but dammit, it packed a big punch. “Everything.”

“Everything,” I parroted the word. “Anchovies?”

“Yep.”

“Pineapple?”

“Yes, but not at the same time, at least I don’t think I do.” He laughed and I joined in.

“So lots of meat, cheese and vegetables?”

“Best way to have pizza,” he shot back with another brilliant smile that I felt all over my body. “You pick something, and I’ll pick something until we have a pizza, yeah?”

“Sounds good.” We went back and forth until we had a pizza that was probably overloaded with toppings and three types of cheese. “Now I have a real question but feel free to tell me it’s none of my business.”

That piqued his curiosity. “Ask.”

“It’s about your time in prison?” I paused, noticing the way tension slowly filled his body. “Were you scared when you first went in?”

Immediately his body relaxed, and he leaned back into the fake leather seat. “That’s not what I expected you to ask.” The words rushed out of him, but I appreciated the way he thought about my question before he answered. “I was worried, but I wasn’t scared. I’m tough and I know how to kick ass, but it’s different there, a whole new fucking ballgame.” He shook his head and folded his arms, a clear defensive posture. “There are a lot of different groups, each one with their own expectations and you don’t know where you fit in until you’ve already chosen a side, because you have to choose fast.”

That was an interesting perspective. “Do you have to pick a side?”

“Hell yeah. If you’re on your own, then the whole damn place is your enemy. If you choose a side, then at least those people will have your back. Most of the time, unless you fuck up.”

“Wow. Seriously?”

He nodded. “It’s not a place you want to be, trust me.”

“I do.” I did trust him, implicitly. “Which side did you choose?” Not that I knew what the sides were, but I had an idea. “The side that let me get out as soon as fucking possible. With good behavior I managed to cut a ten year sentence in half.”

“Impressive.”

His lips pulled into a crooked grin. “Thanks.”

“Was the food as awful as they say?”

He shook his head. “It was about a hundred fucking times worse.”

“Then you can have the first and biggest slice of pizza.”

“Thanks.” The word came out softly, barely above a whisper and in that moment, my crush on him grew a little stronger.

“Hey Hollywood.”

“Yeah?”

I grinned. “I’m really glad you made it out alive.”

“You are? Me too.”

As the meal passed, I grew happier and happier that Hollywood was the one I was stuck with. He wasn’t just some big, badass biker. He was a hell of a lot more. He was funny with a dry sense of humor, he was sweet and treated the server with respect. Yeah, I was crushing hard.

“Last piece,” he nodded at the big slice on the platter beside us.

I grabbed the pizza cutter and sliced it down the middle. “Top half or bottom half?”

“I do love the crust. It’s so greasy and chewy.”

I picked up the bottom and dropped it on my plate. “You have a big appetite.”

“You have no idea.” His words teased me with their hint of humor and the underlying hint of naughty.

Maybe not, but I really want to. That was a dangerous thought, I knew that, just as I knew making a move and getting rejected would be humiliating since I can’t exactly leave his side. Yet. So, I changed the subject. “Do you know anything about the guys Dad invested with?”

He quirked one eyebrow at me, eyes dancing with amusement. “Because I’m a criminal?”

“No dummy, because my dad always said you’re smart as hell and that means you or someone in your MC has been looking into them.” I stared at him, daring him to deny it.

He nodded, seemingly satisfied with that answer. “Not much worth talking about yet, but Slate is looking into it.”

“That’s the techie dude, right?”

The corners of his mouth tipped up. “Yeah.” Hollywood sat up and stared at me as if he could read my thoughts. “You’re worried about your dad.”

Shit maybe he can read my thoughts. My eyes widened. “I hope that was a lucky guess.”

Amusement danced in his eyes. “Something on your mind I shouldn’t know about?”

“Plenty,” I shot back quickly. “But also yes, I’m worried about Dad.”

“Wanna go check on him?”

My heart gave a big donkey kick against my chest. “Absolutely.”

“Come on.”

I paid absolutely no attention to the way his big, warm hand felt on my lower back as he guided me out of the pizzeria.

On the journey home, my thoughts bounced from my father to Hollywood and back. On the one hand I was furious at my dad for getting himself in this predicament, for putting himself in danger. On the other hand if he hadn’t, I might not have ever gotten this chance to spend time with Hollywood like this.

When I stepped inside the house I grew up in and settled my gaze on Dad, I was furious. “Who in the hell gave you a black eye?”

“I’m fine, sweetheart.” How could he be so casual? So laidback as if he got into fights on a regular basis?

“I didn’t ask you how you are, which I’m glad you’re fine by the way, I asked you who did it to you, Dad?” I didn’t need an answer, dammit. I knew who it did even if I didn’t have a name. Or a face.

Yet.