Chapter 5 – Zeb
Chapter Five
Zeb
She’s watching me like a scared cat with her back pressed against the furthest wall of the bathroom stall.
The thing about scared cats is they can still scratch you.
It’s hard keeping the smile off my face from the fight outside.
I watched those men surrounding pretty Janelle with a plan to take control if shit got out of hand, and holy fuck did things get out of hand.
And I liked it. There’s still a fight raging outside, but once the dust settles, the Irish guys we’re working with out here will make sure it all irons out without the cops getting called.
Her eyes stay on me as I splash water on my face and blood runs down my cheek and into the sink. My body trembles with rage and excitement. If she weren’t in here with me, I would slip back out there and throw another few punches.
“Did that guy hurt you?”
I already know he didn’t, but it doesn’t hurt to double check.
“No,” she stammers out. She’s brave not to look away from me but at this point, Janelle’s staring makes me nervous. I look over at her.
“Did I get all the blood off?”
I shouldn’t ask the question with a gaping smile on my face. Women don’t like it when you’re too bloodthirsty. When you thrive off the taste of war.
“There’s some on your nose.”
I tilt my head from side to side, looking at both sides of my sharp, uncomfortably large nose. I notice the blood and wipe it off with a paper towel, face pressed to the mirror.
“Are you out here alone tonight?”
I’ll have to work to drag her out of her shell after scaring the crap out of her.
Not sure that Janelle has anything to be afraid of with me.
Before the army sent me home, I heard about all the problems going on with the club regarding the personal disagreements about race and culture and all of that mess.
There were plenty of men with all types of backgrounds in the army.
Most of them were assholes regardless of their skin color.
Women are women – I was never too picky about their skin color myself.
The women who I knew with Janelle’s complexion in the military never bothered with men like me when they could have their own.
“No. I came with my friend and lost her in the chaos.”
The corners of my lips drag upward, but I do my best to suppress the smirk, since I’m well aware that it won’t paint me in a good light at all with Janelle. She stays tense around me.
“No boyfriend?”
I’ll worry about the friend later, but I’ll have to keep her in mind since she’s most likely to take Janelle away from me tonight.
“No,” Janelle says, her gaze dropping away from mine noticeably. “He cheated on me.”
“What a fucking tool.”
Janelle flinches as if the wound were still fresh. As far as I know, the wound might very well be. I position my body in the way of the door in hopes that this tense conversation doesn’t provoke her to escape.
“Do men really think that?” Janelle says with a surprising bite to her voice. “Because you all claim that cheaters are assholes, yet almost every guy I know has betrayed a woman he claimed to love.”
I never have – but maybe that’s because I’ve never loved a woman and certainly I would have never been stupid enough to claim that I did when I didn’t.
“You show me the guy who hurt you and I’ll show you what I think about cheaters.”
Her eyes meet mine and there’s a flicker of darkness behind them like Janelle thinks I’m crazy enough to do what she wants and not only that, she’s crazy enough to take me up on the offer.
She stares a little hard at my glass eye, which most people do when they notice there’s something wrong with me.
Janelle is kind enough not to comment on it, but I sense the dead eye makes her uncomfortable.
Her voice sounds warbly, but she does her best to still sound strong. “Is there a reason you’re here and not in jail?”
She has me on edge, this one. I can’t tell what’s going to come out of her mouth next, and I like the constant surprises thus far.
“This country hasn’t fallen yet because of men like me.”
“What, men who get into dick-measuring bar fights?”
I laugh again. “No, Janelle. Soldiers. I served our country for three years.”
Anywhere I’ve been before, my service immediately impresses people, especially those who would have otherwise turned their nose up at me. Janelle’s expression is blank and if not completely blank, it’s at the very least impossible to read properly.
“Is that why you take pleasure out of hurting people?” she asks.
Heat prickles the tips of my ears as Janelle exposes something about me that I don’t like and that I’ve become very well trained to keep hidden.
I look over at her and another one of my animalistic urges rises up in my chest. If I learned anything from growing up with Eliza Blackwood as a mother, it’s that women are best kept at a distance if you want to avoid trouble.
My father died in the Gulf War, so I don’t know what he was like and my mother never said anything good about him.
It was only after I tagged along with Ruger to my first quarterly club meeting at fifteen years old that I learned from Doc that my father was part of a team of Army Rangers sent up into the mountains of Afghanistan for a mission and he pretty much died a hero.
“I don’t take pleasure from it,” I respond after silence that lasts so long and goes so deep that I swear I can hear Janelle’s heart racing from across the bathroom. I scare her because of what she’s seen. The things that looking at her does to me are equally unspeakable.
“Then what the hell was that?” Janelle says, looking at the door past my shoulder again.
“That guy deserved it.”
“Are the cops going to think that?” she asks.
“Won’t be any cops. Look, if you want an escort to meet your friend, I’ll take you outside,” I tell her.
By now, the Murray boys would have broken up the fight.
I might get in trouble with Ethan and Isaac later, but considering how close my punches got me to Janelle, I find the juice very much worth the squeeze.
“So you open that door and there won’t be people throwing hands and getting arrested?” Janelle presses me again. I like the way she phrases things and the way her voice sounds just a little deep for a woman. I find it sexy and comforting. Smooth, like molasses.
“No, ma’am.”
“Okay. Then no need for an escort. I’ll find my friend on my own.”
She takes a step towards the door and my body shifts quickly to block her from escaping. Janelle tilts her head up so her gaze meets mine with unmistakable terror. She knows that I want something from her. And it’s a small bathroom, even if we can both stand.
“Janelle…”
She shudders in response to my voice. Fuck, she looks cute. I like her soft, round features. And that scared ass look on her face. There’s something satisfying about getting under the skin of a woman who would otherwise be tough as nails.
“I can’t let you leave without payment, ma’am.”
She responds to my smirking with a hateful scowl that sends a shiver down my spine and all the way to my dick.
“My friend has my money.”
“That’s not what I mean.” She doesn’t like my teasing, but I sure like getting a rise out of her. If I can get an emotional response this way, I can get her another way too.
“I’m not sleeping with you for assaulting someone.”
I laugh, because that takes me by surprise. And it’s a little funny that she thinks I would sleep with a strange woman in the bathroom of a bar just because I find her sexy.
“I meant a kiss. Do you normally sleep with strangers in bathrooms?”
“No,” she snaps. “I assumed that’s what you wanted and I wanted to make my boundaries clear.”
Women are always talking about their boundaries these days and then going on to explain what I always called basic human decency without all the psychology talk.
“Fine. My boundaries are clear too. One kiss and I let you leave.”
Janelle rolls her eyes. “It is equally entitled to demand a kiss from me.”
“Even if you get safe passage for free?”
She scowls even harder and purses her lips. “I really need to get back to my friend.”
Her tension only makes me want her more.
I know how wrong it is, but I don’t care.
Those lips look fucking delicious. And in the Army, the darker girls preferred me.
White women aren’t too interested in blond men with pale, terrifying eyes.
Janelle can’t stop staring, even if she acts more disgusted than fascinated with me.
“Then this should be an easy choice,” I tease her further. “You kiss me, you get back to her a lot quicker.”
She closes her eyes. I haven’t touched her yet, but I already feel like I’ve won.
“Hurry up. And don’t tell anybody that I let you do this.”
“Who would I tell?”
“Zebulon. Hurry.”
“I don’t want to rush this.”
“Why not?” she says, cracking open an eye and then quickly deciding to keep both shut. I suppose she’s worried about what kissing me might be like. Her doubt makes me want to torture her more.
“I want to savor your lips, that’s why.”
“Zeb–”
“Shh,” I whisper, taking the opportunity to run my fingers over her lips now that her eyes are shut and for this very brief exchange…
Janelle is mine. Her body shivers when my fingers touch her lips.
I’ve never pressed my skin to such full lips before and it shocks me how close they feel to bursting beneath my touch.
Fuck, this is good. Janelle’s lips tremble at first as I kiss her, but once my tongue slides into her mouth, I can feel her body melting against mine as she gives in to the physical sensations.
No more overthinking, angel. I run my thumb over the outline of her jawline.
She has a soft, round face and cupping her cheeks as I kiss her brings me physically closer to her.
The need travels. Janelle’s tongue gently teases mine back and my cock stiffens immediately.
I want to move my hips away from her so she doesn’t spook like a hare, but she must be able to feel it.
And there’s not enough space in here for me to move.
Janelle’s tongue teasing mine back doesn’t make me want to stop.
I keep holding her and as we kiss, her hands reach for my chest.
I’m sure she’s pushing me away, but I can’t accept it.
I don’t want to accept it when she’s so fucking…
soft. Is this why Gideon and Ruger went fucking crazy for a woman like this one?
My hand drops from her face as temptation rises.
My palm stops at my belt buckle as I consider doing something so much worse with this woman right where I have her.
The dark thought wraps itself around my mind and just as suddenly, an unfamiliar voice intrudes: Stop. Don’t hurt her, Zeb. You don’t have to hurt her.
I step back once away from her, struck by the sudden unfamiliar feeling that hurting Janelle wouldn’t feel good.
It would feel like absolute torture to cause this woman any pain.
I look at her like she’s a demon, and finding myself staring into her black eyes doesn’t make the feeling any better.
She still looks scared, which helps with the unruly pounding in my chest at the sight of her, but I don’t have control here.
“That was a kiss,” Janelle mutters.
I look at her and want another one. So I take it.
And she doesn’t stop me. We fall against the wall together and I kiss this woman like honey drips from her lips.
My hard cock strains against my pants as we make out against the wall.
I have to fight every urge to rip her clothes off. She’s fragile. You can’t hurt her, Zeb…
I kiss her until my lips hurt. My lips feel barely there compared to hers and the fullness of Janelle’s lips makes it even harder for me to pull away from them. But I must.
“I should go,” I tell her. “But if you’re ever in trouble, angel, I want you to call me.”
She looks up at me bewildered. Janelle knows deep down that I’m the trouble. Tall, tattooed, violent… and a damn good kisser. I’m the type of man everyone in her life would tell her to run in the opposite direction from. But I hope she doesn’t run.
“Give me your phone.”
She unlocks it with her thumb and hands it over. I type my number in and save it under the name Zeb, just so she won’t ever get in trouble for calling me.
“Zeb,” I whisper, running my thumb over her lips. “Just say my name and I’ll be there, angel.”