Chapter 8
CHAPTER
EIGHT
SHAWN
I want to ask him what his real name is or if there is anything else he goes by, but I don’t think he wants me to know. Wouldn’t he have introduced himself by that name if he wanted me to know it? Also, I’m not sure why I’m rambling to myself inside my own head as I stare at him.
We’ve ordered our food and drinks, we’re listening to music, and I watch as he shifts in his chair then leans over slightly, placing his palms on the center of the table. “I don’t know much about you, Shawn. Tell me something.”
My eyes widen. I don’t know what to say. His lips twitch into a smile, and he leans back in his seat, his gaze searching my own. “Tell me about your shop. How did you get your own bakery at such a young age? I assume you’re young. You look it.”
Sinking my teeth into my bottom lip, I flick my eyes down at the table, then lift them back up to meet his. “I’m twenty-three,” I whisper. He laughs softly.
“You’re young. Too young for me. I should stand up and walk right the fuck out of here before I ruin every single part of you.”
A thrill of desire slides down my spine at his words. I don’t want him to leave. I know he’s older than me, and I like it. I think. It’s not like I have a lot of experience. What would be wrong about the fact that he’s older than me? We’re both adults…
“We are,” he murmurs. “But I’ve lived a whole life before you were even born.”
My eyes widen, and I lean in even more. “How much older than me are you?”
“Fourteen years older. I’m almost thirty-eight.”
I bite my bottom lip and shrug a shoulder. “That’s not too bad,” I say.
Maybe I shouldn’t be okay with this. Maybe it’s wrong, but it really doesn’t bother me. If I like him and he likes me, then what does our age difference matter? It’s not like I’m a teenager any longer.
“So it bothers you?” I ask. “Because it doesn’t bother me at all.”
He shifts back in his chair, his eyes never leaving mine, then he clears his throat and lifts his beer to his lips to take a pull. I watch him, waiting for what he’s going to say, but instead of speaking, the waiter appears with our dinner.
When the waiter walks away, he reaches for a french fry and pops it into his mouth, then chews it before swallowing. “Babe, it doesn’t bother me at fucking all.”
“Okay,” I whisper.
“So you’re twenty-three, and you have that bakery. That’s pretty impressive.”
I like that he thinks it’s impressive, but it’s really not. “I saved, but it’s not going to last long. I’ve been looking for work somewhere else.”
“Your shit is amazing. No way should you go anywhere else.”
I love that he believes in me, that he loves my food, but he has no idea how badly I’m failing, and in a couple weeks, I’ll probably be out on my ass.
Arthur is a nice landlord and all, but there is no way he’s going to let me skip out on rent.
And I wouldn’t want to either. I have never wanted to owe anyone anything, and that would be a favor I don’t know if I could ever repay.
“I don’t think I’m going to have a choice. As much as I want to continue with this dream, it might be just that for me… a dream.”
Looking down at my food, I move it around with my fork, thinking about his words. I love that he thinks my cupcakes are good. Maybe that could be enough for me. Running my own shop is really hard, and it’s a lot of work.
“You’ve got this, sweetness. I know it will work out. Not many people are willing to work as hard as you do or sacrifice as much as you have to live out their dreams. What do your parents think?”
His question catches me slightly off guard, mainly because I am not prepared to really talk much about my parents. Although, I guess I should be. He’s already met my brother. And feels about him the same way I do … which is that he doesn’t like him much.
“My mother thinks I’m wasting my time, money, and energy.”
His eyes widen, and his brows snap together. “What do you mean she thinks you’re wasting your time? What about your father?”
My gaze lifts and finds his, holding it for a moment. I clear my throat and swallow down the tears that somehow threaten to escape. I’ve been on my own, doing my own thing, for as long as I can remember.
My mother gave me a roof over my head, barely, but from the time I was fifteen, I’ve been working and taking care of myself. Then, at eighteen, I moved out of her home and started taking care of myself wholly.
She’s never taken much time or care to worry about anything I’ve done. And since I’ve left home, the only times she’s ever called me was to ask for money like she did a few days ago. It’s never for any other reason, only when she wants something from me.
“I don’t know my dad,” I say. “My mother hasn’t cared much about me. She’s busy doing her own thing.”
He doesn’t say anything immediately as we continue to eat. The conversation should probably make me lose my appetite, but it doesn’t. I know what my mother is like. This is not a shock or front-page news, and while it would be nice if she were different, she will not change.
“And your brother?” he asks.
Shrugging a shoulder, I lift my eyes to meet his. “He is who he is. He lives with my mother still, but probably because he doesn’t want to work and pay bills. It’s easier to live with her, and they do whatever it is they do, probably run scams.”
King chuckles. “Yeah, I got that vibe from him. I think you’re right.”
“What about your family?” I ask.
I’m ready for the focus to be off me for just a moment or two. He reaches for his beer and lifts it to his lips, taking a long pull, then lets out a heavy sigh. His food is finished, so I take this moment to finish my own as he talks.
“My mother and stepfather owned the bar. She didn’t want to stay with my dad, or maybe he couldn’t stay with her anymore. I’m not sure. He’s a biker, though, through and through, like me. Never changing. He was born into the world, generational, and he wasn’t ever leaving his family.”
“I take it you feel the same way?”
His lips curve up into a grin, and his gaze flicks to the side, staring off somewhere. It looks like he’s thinking of a fond memory. Then he clears his throat and shifts his attention back to me as he shakes his head a couple of times.
“Yeah, sweetness. The club is my family, my life. I don’t plan on ever leaving it. That is my world.”
“And your father? Is he still in the club?” I ask.
I want to ask for details about this club.
What it means, what they do, and just how illegal they are, but I decide against it.
I feel as though that’s a conversation for a later date.
Right now, I’m going to try and ignore the million and one questions floating around in my head and focus on this moment, and at least learning the basics about him.
“I’m an only child. My father is still alive. He left East Texas a few years ago, semiretired down at the coast in Corpus Christi. He’s still technically a member. Though he doesn’t hold a title any longer.”
“I really like Port Aransas. I mean, I only went once when I was about seven, right before my dad left. He took us to the beach. It was the best weekend of my life.”
He watches me, then jerks his chin. “Seems like we have some memories to make.”
I like that.
He’s thinking of me, of us, of a future, and maybe it’s complete bullshit, but I like the idea of it all.
I want it to be real. I want it to be amazing.
I want to fall madly in love with him. He’s sexy as shit, strong, commanding.
And I want to believe that since he’s protective, something I’ve never come across before.
KING
Taking her hand, I do something that I’ve never done before. I walk down Main Street hand in hand with a woman. We don’t really say much else. She points shit out and so do I, and it’s nice.
I think about her past. Her parents. And decide to do a little digging on them when we get back. I want to know exactly what I’m dealing with. Even though she doesn’t have much to do with any of them, it’s always best to know what could come up.
Once we make our way back to the bike, I lean against the seat, spreading my legs as I guide her between them, gripping her hips. She lifts her head, her eyes finding mine, and I stare. Slowly, she lifts her hands, tentatively wrapping her fingers around the sides of my neck.
“I like you.”
She presses her lips together, then releases them and leans closer to me.
I feel her mouth against my own. Her breath hitches, but I allow her to have control…
for now. My fingers flex against her waist, pulling her a little closer and wishing we weren’t in downtown Jefferson, where there are people surrounding us.
I want to fuck her right here and now.
“I like you, too, sweetness.”
I slide my tongue along the seam of her lips. When her breath hitches, I take that as an opportunity to taste her wholly. She whimpers as I grip her waist harder, holding her against me and wondering if she’ll fuck me tonight.
My cock is aching to be inside of her. I honestly don’t think anyone else would do at this point. I’ve been dreaming about her for days. Breaking the kiss, I nibble her bottom lip and shift back slightly.
“You ready to go home?” I ask.
“Yeah,” she exhales.
I climb onto the bike, and she jumps on behind me, gripping my waist as I start my engine and roar down the street toward the darkness of the country roads that will guide us back to Pineville.
It doesn’t take us long, half the time as when we went there, because my balls are aching, and my cock is begging to be inside of her. I pull up to her building and kill the engine, and for the first time in my entire fucking life, I wish I had my own place and not just a room in the clubhouse.
Climbing off the bike, I take a step back, holding out my hand for her. Shawn slips her fingers in mine, and I close my hand, tugging her toward me. Together, we walk up the stairs, and I move toward her door.
She takes her key out of her small fanny-pack-looking bag thing and shoves it into the lock, turns it, then pushes the door open. Following behind her, I close and lock the door. She doesn’t face me. Instead, she moves farther into the room and places her key and bag on the counter.
I move toward her but stop when I’m a few inches from her back. I wait for her to turn around. She doesn’t. I sink my teeth into my cheek, watching her for a long moment. Then I hear her speak. Her voice is barely above a whisper.
“I’ve never done this before. I don’t know what I’m doing.”
I press my fingers against the center of her back. She turns her head, and her eyes find mine. “What are you telling me you’ve never done before, sweetness?”
I’ve never felt like being gentle before, but she makes me want to be that, at least for a moment. I’m not sure how long I could be gentle, but for her, I want to be. She turns around completely to face me, tipping her head back as she looks into my eyes.
“I’ve had sex before, but it’s been a long time, and I’ve never… not here in my apartment.”
My lips twitch. “Yeah?”
Fuck.
She is sweet.
Shawn lifts her hand to her lips as if she’s spilled a secret that she wasn’t supposed to tell me. I wrap my fingers around her wrist to gently tug her hand down, continuing to look into her eyes. I can’t shift my gaze away from hers.
Instead of speaking, I gently pull her close to me, her body slamming against mine. Using my free hand, I grip her hip and hold her steady, dipping my chin to touch my mouth against hers in a hard kiss.
She melts toward me.
Into me.
Filling her mouth, my tongue swirls and tastes her, my cock twitching at the same time, knowing that in just a few moments, my tongue will be tasting more of her. Fuck. I want to know how her cunt tastes, her cum, all of her.
Every goddamn inch.