Chapter Eleven
Hit-and-Run Seduction
Why was it the one faction of human beings I’d avoided like the plague—the faction known as bikers—was the one faction that now populated my life to the point where I couldn’t even turn around without bumping into one?
It wasn’t fair.
Luckily I had a couple hours to get ready for company—though labeling scary-ass bikers as company was borderline ridiculous. But I’d learned that life was often a conscious choice. For instance, right now I had a choice of freaking out over this latest turn of events, or I could choose to treat the situation as a normal meet-and-greet social event. I chose the latter, which was why there was a pot of creamy herbed chicken and dumplings simmering on the stove. I also had my amazing knock-off version of Cheddar Bay biscuits sitting in a warming basket on the counter, and I had just pulled a batch of chocolate chip cookies—made from a tube of cookie dough I had tucked away in the fridge as my guilty pleasure—from the oven when the doorbell rang. My brother, sticking close to me in the kitchen, nearly jumped out of his skin before shooting a panicked look toward the open archway leading to the front door.
“Relax,” I said, at last speaking to Josh after he’d dumped all his mind-blowing revelations on my doorstep. I was still trying to make peace with how I wasn’t the one who’d ruined his life and our family, so I wasn’t in the chattiest of moods. “If it was Hades, I doubt he’d politely ring the doorbell.”
“Yeah, I guess.” He took in a breath that shook, then watched me slide cookies from the sheet to a wire cooling rack. “You didn’t have to go to all this trouble, you know. Freshly baked cookies and a warm, home-cooked meal of Granny’s chicken and dumplings isn’t something a Chicago Gravedigger—or any kind of Gravedigger—is going to appreciate.”
I didn’t answer. He probably wouldn’t care that going through the familiar motions of making a meal and treating this like an everyday situation was how I was keeping myself from having a nervous breakdown.
His short sigh spoke volumes. “Look, Shiloh, I… This wasn’t how I thought things were going to go today.”
Yeah, no kidding. Clearly he’d rolled back into my life for the sole purpose of chasing me out of Chicago. Then as far as he was concerned, that would have been that—no more kid sister to worry about. Never mind that I wouldn’t have had anywhere else to go, or a job waiting for me in some other random city or state. As long as I wasn’t a problem for him to be bothered with, that was as far as his thinking had gone.
And to think I’d believed he was my hero.
Geez.
Was it any wonder I had trust issues?
“Shiloh.” It was amazing, how the faint wheedling in his voice made me want to stab him. Too bad I’d already put the knives I’d used to cut up the chicken and veggies in the dishwasher. “Come on, don’t be like this. I need you, okay? I don’t have anyone on my side going into this.”
“Then you know how I’ve felt the past four years.” I heard the flatness of my tone, the unyielding coldness, and wondered if that was what I’d become. In that moment, the answer had to be a resounding yes. “You said you kept track of me. Is that true?”
“Yes.”
“Then do you know Mom and Dad blamed me for you dropping out of college and joining a frigging motorcycle gang?”
He blinked. “What?”
“Yeah. They thought the same thing I did—that you’d traded yourself to save me when I was stupid enough to fall into their clutches. Dad… he was my childhood hero, you know? He had always been so wonderful, the amazing man who could fix anything with either his handyman skills, or his gentle words of wisdom. But do you know what he called me when I was finally dropped off a block from our house and I managed to stumble my way back home? A fallen woman, whatever the hell that is, who, quote, acted like a whore and ruined the family, close quote.”
Josh flinched.
“Why do you think Dad said that, Josh? I was eighteen, a late bloomer, and I didn’t know anything about the world. All I did was go out on a date with your friend… and suddenly I’m acting like a whore. What on earth did you tell them?”
“I just… didn’t tell them anything, except that you had gone off with Marvel, and that Mom and Dad shouldn’t call the police because we knew where you were. I don’t remember what I said exactly, but I may have made it sound like you wanted to be where you were, because I didn’t want them to worry.”
I felt sick. “Oh God, Josh.”
“I was a kid and I made mistakes every step of the way, but I swear I finally figured things out, Shiloh, okay? Hades wanted me, not you, so I manned up and did the right thing. I traded myself for you.”
“Eventually. Thanks for that, I guess. But by then, of course, it was too late. I’d lost my virginity, my sanity, my hope of ever feeling clean again. I wanted to die. And then the cherry on top was Dad calling me a fallen woman whose actions had lost him his perfect, brilliant son. Fucking unbelievable.”
Josh winced. “Shiloh… shit, I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry. I didn’t know.”
“Well, now you do. I haven’t seen Mom or Dad for four years, Josh. Did you know that? I don’t even want to. Our family ties dissolved long ago, and up until today I thought it was all my fault. I’m sure Mom and Dad still think it’s my fault. Honestly, it’s like we’ve never had a single moment where we were just an ordinary, happy family who loved each other, and the loss of that is so sad I can hardly bear the heartbreak of it.” Out of the corner of my eye I saw movement in the doorway, and I turned my attention back to the cookie sheet. “Not that any of that matters now. Put on your game face, because you have other fish to fry.”
“Fried fish sounds good for lunch, but whatever’s cooking in here smells even better.” A massive mountain of a man appeared with Romeo in the doorway, and I knew right away this had to be the president of the breakaway renegade chapter known only as the Gravediggers. Nearly six and a half feet tall with shoulders a linebacker would have been proud of, he lifted his chin at me, his jaw-length dark blonde hair slicked behind his ears, matching a beard manicured so short it could almost be considered scruff. “Name’s Tyr. Looks like Chef’s little sister can cook as well.”
Annnd, that was all it took to make me hate his guts. “Soup plates are on the counter along with the spoons and Cheddar Bay biscuits,” I said, deadpan. “Sodas and water are in the fridge, and there’s a fresh pot of coffee in the coffeemaker next to the creamer and sugar. Cookies will have cooled down enough for you after you’ve finished lunch. I’m going to my room and turning on some music nice and loud, because club business is your business, not mine. No need to say goodbye when you all leave. Just… leave.” With a polite nod I’d perfected at my waitressing job, I didn’t look at anyone as I left, wondering if I’d ever see any of them again after today.
Probably not.
Clearly there was no reason for me to cross paths with the man named Tyr again. My brother had proven himself to be a destructive force that put hurricanes to shame, so I was more than happy to keep my distance from him. And Romeo…
Damn.
Romeo.
My throat tightened as I closed my bedroom door, flicked on the portable speaker sitting on my dresser, then focused on changing out the sheets and making my bed. It was obvious now why Romeo had been so determined to stay in my life. It hadn’t been because he’d been obsessively hot for me. God, no. The straight-up fact was that my brother was a valuable commodity. Josh had been right to laugh at how Romeo “just happened” to cross my path. Like Marvel before him, Romeo had done everything in his power to use me to get his hooks into Josh.
Damn all bikers everywhere, I silently raged while humiliation pounded through me like poison. Damn them to hell. I hated, hated, them all.
Just as I shoved the dirty sheets into the hamper located inside the closet, the bedroom door opened and Romeo stepped inside. “Shy, baby, you should eat something. This is probably going to take a while.”
It took everything I had to not look at that heartbreakingly handsome face. If I did, I might allow myself to believe the lie that he actually gave a damn about me. He didn’t. Of course he didn’t. “I’m not going back out there until you all are gone.”
“You all?” In a handful of strides he planted himself in front of me, practically standing in the closet so he could grab my chin and force me to look at him. “You saying you want to see me gone?”
“I’m saying you being gone from my life is exactly what’s going to happen now that you’ve got what you wanted, Marvel. Oops, I mean Romeo.” I gave him a sharp smile, wishing it was sharp enough to cut him down to size. “Sorry. My bad. The two of you are just so alike, it was an honest mista—”
The last word ended on a squeak as he abruptly picked me up, turned and threw me on the newly made bed. I landed with a bounce, but before I could move he was on me, pressing me into the mattress.
“You’re trying to play games with me now, is that it?” he growled, almost nose to nose with me. God help me, my mouth parted when I felt his breath feather across my lips, and my skin blazed with heat wherever he touched. Damn it, not now, you stupid body. “Are you trying to piss me off so much I retaliate by treating you like shit, the way Marvel treated you? Because that’s never going to work. I’ve never raised a hand to a woman in my life and I sure as hell never had to force myself on a woman, and I’m not gonna start now. But I swear to Christ, you compare me to fucking Marvel again, I will be sorely tempted.”
“You used me, Romeo, just like Marvel did to get close to my brother,” I barreled on rashly. He didn’t get the right to think he was somehow better than the last man who’d played stupid Gravedigger games with me. “You straight-up targeted me. When you first showed up at the diner, you weren’t wearing a cut or anything else that declared you were a Gravedigger, and now I know why. If I’d even glimpsed anything referencing the Gravediggers, I would have run a country mile to get away from you, and you knew it.”
“I only knew what a few former brothers of the Chicago Gravediggers said about Chef, who’d come into the fold about a year or so after I left,” he contradicted, shaking his head. “There was a story that he’d been forced to join, so no one knew what his feelings were when it came to loyalty to the club. Then we got word that Chef wanted to leave, and someone mentioned your name as a possible point of contact. Tyr decided I should go in like a civilian in case you had any ties or loyalties to the Chicago Gravediggers. All I was supposed to do was to get the lay of the land and see if I could get close enough to Chef to find out whether or not he wanted out. I’m glad I did, and I guarantee I’d do it again.”
“Because come to find out, Josh is just the sort of weak link you were looking for.” I nodded mockingly. “Good for you.”
“I’d do it again because that decision would lead me to this moment, lying on top of you in your bed, trying to calculate whether or not I have the time to fuck you good and proper while Tyr and your brother wait for me right outside your door.”
It was a wonder my eyes didn’t pop out of my head. “Don’t you dare.”
“Yeah, there’s not enough time, not to mention I don’t want to bring back any shitty memories you might have about what that fucker Marvel did to you when you were in the Rumpus Room.” Despite his words, his hand moved between us and found its way underneath the black watch plaid skirt I wore. Instantly I bemoaned my decision not to wear several layers of clothing or possibly armor when he pushed aside my panties. “All I have time to do is give you a little reminder that you enjoy me just as much as I enjoy you.” With that, he slid a finger into my depths while his thumb unerringly landed on my clit.
Ooh.
Ooh.
“Tell me to stop, Shy girl,” he whispered in that velvety sex voice I’d reveled in the night before. His eyes were close to mine, watching me, and watching just how much I liked what he was doing to me. “Tell me you don’t want me finger-banging you. Tell me you don’t want me to make you come right here, right now, with me watching how much you love what I’m doing to you. Come on. Tell me to stop.”
“I…” My hips were already undulating, rubbing hard against his hand while my breath hitched at the addictive friction we were creating. “I can’t.”
His thumb mercilessly circled over my clit while he inserted a second finger, massaging me from within until I couldn’t help but writhe with building pleasure. “Why not?”
“You know.” The sweet tension ballooned inside, threatening to blow me apart. “You know.”
“Hell, yeah, I do, but I want you to know it, too. Why can’t you tell me to stop, baby? Say it.”
He was going harder on me now. Faster. It was glorious. “I want this.”
“You want this.” My heart almost broke when his hand abruptly stilled, leaving my body screaming for more as he glared down at me. “You take pleasure from my hands, from my cock, and you accept me into your bed like the greatest wet dream I’ve ever had. Yet you only say you want this, and not me?”
I stared up at him, breathless. Damn, he’d caught that. “It doesn’t matter, does it?”
“If it doesn’t matter, you won’t have a problem saying it.”
Goddamn it. “Romeo—”
“Tell me you want me to make you come, Shiloh.”
The sound of my swallow echoed between us. “I want to come.”
His hand began to retreat. “Everyone wants that, so don’t play games with me, woman. Tell me you want me, or I’m gone. I guarantee it.”
“No.” The word shot out of me before it was even a thought in my head. “I…”
He stilled, his eyes burning over me. Hungry. Yearning. “I’m waiting.”
To my horror, I could feel my defenses dissolving under the weight of my need. “This is just a hit-and-run seduction,” I whispered, trying to soothe my growing panic. “Once it’s done it’s done, so…yes, Romeo. I want you. I want you to make me come.”
“Funny thing about hit-and-runs,” he murmured, looking down at me. “One way or another, they change lives forever.” Then he smiled, as if he was really looking forward to that, and moved his hand once more.
I tried. Swear to God, I tried not to show him how much I wanted his touch. I tried not to show him how utterly in thrall I was with him. I tried telling myself that allowing him close enough to give me this kind of pleasure—and allowing myself to enjoy it—didn’t matter.
But it did.
To allow him this close meant there was a level of trust there that had grown without my noticing. I was helpless now, vulnerable in ways I never allowed myself to be, and completely in his hands both figuratively and literally.
All of that should have terrified me.
But in that moment I didn’t care.
Because I really, really loved being helpless in his hands.
The thumb he had on my clit pressed and circled, pressed and circled until I writhed with the rhythm. His fingers slid in and out of me, ever deepening his penetration and making me gasp out loud as the pleasure spiraled up to an airless height. It was so intimate—the most intimate thing I’d ever shared wholeheartedly with a man. With the knowledge that I wanted this, and that he’d made me straight up ask him to make me come, I gave myself over to the tide of sensation swelling up inside. It crested sharply, shockingly, in an orgasm that made me cry out, my back arching while my hips rolled in a frantic effort to prolong that sweet ecstasy.
As much as I tried to hold on to the euphoria he gave me, it ebbed away like water through fingers, leaving me drained but thoroughly satisfied. Not that he could say the same, and the moment that thought crossed my mind I reached out and cupped his cheek, delighting in the feel of the dark scruff beneath my palm.
“What about you?” I asked, shocked at how soft my voice sounded. Softness wasn’t something that came naturally to me anymore, or so I had thought.
A corner of his mouth tilted up. “You’ll owe me later tonight.”
“Tonight?” My brain hadn’t gone down the road any farther than the meeting Romeo had managed to forge between my brother and his president. “I thought you were, you know… done with me. You know, now that you’ve got my brother.”
His brows slammed down. “You comparing me to that fucker Marvel again?”
Maybe. “Um, I—”
“I get it. Everything’s crazy right now. I don’t blame you for being confused.” By degrees his scowl disappeared, and he leaned in to once again press his lips against my brow. He lingered there, as if kissing something precious, and my eyes closed against an odd wash of tears that wanted to flood my eyes. “Listen to me, okay? I’m not done with you. I guarantee that you and I are just getting started.”
I opened my eyes to look at him while the breath backed up in my lungs. “Why?” I asked, hoping he’d understand the question.
He seemed to, as his answer was immediate. “Because you kicked a gun—a gun your own heroic brother was holding—to protect me. Someone that determined to watch my back when shit’s getting real is a precious commodity in my world, so there’s no way I’m letting you go now.”
There was nothing I could say, because he was right. In that moment, all I’d cared about was protecting him. “My brother’s not my hero.”
“No, not anymore, and for that I’m sorry. But on the upside I can promise you one thing—the days of you being disappointed by the people in your life are over,” he added, resting his brow on mine, and for some reason his words seemed to vibrate through me to the very core of my soul. “I’m here now, baby. I’m here. From now on, you’re going to know nothing but sunshine and rainbows as far as the eye can see.”