Has-Been (Phoenix MC #5)

One

I woke from another one of those dreams, the ones that left me shivering like a child who’d been abused by someone he trusted. Gee, I wonder why. The dreams were always the same, just the faces changed.

There were three of them back then who preyed on me. I was the cute boyish star of some lame TV show people watched because… actually, I have no idea why they watched it. Looking back on it, all I see is something poorly scripted, and not worth the air time it had. Maybe I was bitter, but I had plenty of reason to be.

I sat up in the darkness of my room at the clubhouse, and reached for the bottle of water beside me, draining half of the contents, before I put it back. Honestly, I wanted something stronger, but I had a tendency to fall into addiction, and I couldn’t go there again. As long as I just had an occasional drink with the guys I was fine, but alcohol was the only crutch I hadn’t abused to get me through my teens, and I wanted to keep it that way.

Waking up alone from these dreams was one of the worst parts. Not having someone there to distract me, or god, I don’t know, offer me some kind of comfort… yeah, I sometimes wished for that, and since I’d met Elise, I wanted it to be her.

Elise, Jesus… she was in the clubhouse right now, probably tucked up in bed fast asleep. I wondered how she slept, did she have sweet peaceful dreams? Did she toss and turn in bed, or was she the type of person who woke in the same position she fell asleep in? Did she wear anything in bed? Was she a naked sleeper like me? I had no idea why people wore clothes in bed, but that wasn’t my thing. There’s freedom in nudity, and I’d never been ashamed of mine.

When you think about it, as someone who was abused the way I was as a child, you’d probably expect more modesty, and probably less interest in anything sexual, but sex and being butt naked were my favourite things. Hell, look me up online, because some bitch keeps posting our sex videos on there, and you can watch us getting off in glorious technicolour.

I knew from a quick glance at my phone that it was 4am yet again, but there was no point in trying to get any more sleep, so I took a shower, and brushed my teeth while I tried to figure out what the fuck to do with myself at a time when even most of the clubhouse would be asleep. There was only one thing, wasn’t there? Only one other person would be awake right now, and that was the prospect on the gate.

I picked up the most important piece of my wardrobe, and eased it over my shoulders. My cut. My club colours. Without this article of clothing, that meant so much fucking more than any other, I’d be dead by now. I owed this club my life, as well as everything else I could give. It was everything to me. Maybe that was the only reason I was holding back from going for what I really wanted right now. Elise. The sweet angelic girl of my fucking dreams. Why did she have to be my fucking VP’s baby sister?

I headed out through the almost silent clubhouse, and down to my bike. My fucking reason for surviving. When everything else had been almost impossible to live with, getting on this bad boy and just riding, just fucking soaring on the road, it was the only thing there was. I straddled the beast and felt everything inside me settle as it roared with life. Everything bad in my head faded away as I focused on the bike and nothing else. Sometimes it was the only way to escape, to run from everything that haunted my mind day and night.

I eased in the direction of the gate, and waved at the prospect on duty, Nick, and then I was on the road at last, gliding through the darkness, and letting the roar of the machine, and the rush of cool air carry me into peace, at least for a little while.

Elise

I watched him straddle his bike, his strong, beautiful body wrapped around metal and engine parts, instead of me. Why was I awake at this crazy hour? Because I kept dreaming about him, and every time I woke up alone, and horny as hell, I had to remind myself that all I’d have would be these dreams. This fictional moments with the man I knew I was supposed to be with.

I knew his scent, that combination of a spicy cologne, spray paint, and engine oil. I knew the way his body felt pressed against mine, his arms tight around me, and I knew how it felt to kiss him. I knew how much strength those arms contained, and how powerful he was physically and mentally. He was everything, and he kept me at arm’s length instead of giving me all of him.

I’d been sitting at the window with my third coffee when I heard the heavy door slam downstairs, and then I caught sight of him. He strode in the direction of his bike, his blond dreads tied back and hanging past his strong shoulders, his Phoenix cut catching the light as he walked.

Every move was fluid and purposeful, and every step away from me felt like another rejection. That’s crazy, right? It wasn’t like he was literally walking away from me right now, but that was only because he’d already done it. Several times. He kept trying to push me away, even as he lost that focus now and then, and did the exact opposite.

I thought back to the day we met. I’d moved here to the clubhouse with Seth while he was waiting for his test results, and I’d been hiding up in his room, but then he was gone all night. When he returned, there was so much commotion downstairs, that I ventured out to find out what was happening.

I arrived just in time to see this god of a man punch my brother, and knock him to the ground. In his fury, in his passion, he was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. The fact that he’d punched Seth wasn’t something that even occurred to me in that moment. There were other people in the bar too, but he was all I could see.

As the situation finally unfolded in front of us, and before we were banished from the room by Reacher, I realised that his anger had been because he thought my brother had hurt a woman. That intoxicating moment… the moment when I saw him as what he was, a good man. A protector of women, even those who weren’t his, even when there was no way Seth would have done any such thing… it showed me who he was. Has-Been. The strangest name for someone who couldn’t be more real and perfect and relevant in the moment. In every moment.

We were sent away from that room, but I followed him when he left, striding out into the yard and slamming the door behind him.

He headed into a spray bay set up around the side of the clubhouse, and I followed him inside, the sweet tangy scent of spray paint lingering in the air even though he wasn’t actively spraying anything. He slammed things around for a moment, then suddenly caught sight of me and froze.

“Why are you in here?”

I stepped away from the door, approaching him without any conscious thought.

“Why did you hit him?”

He frowned. “You’re Stitch’s sister, right? Elise?” I must have already been in some kind of haze brought on my sexual need for this man, because it sounded like he practically growled my name. It was so hot that I stumbled closer, and he had to reach out and catch my arms in a tight grip.

“You planning to hit me back?” I couldn’t respond for a long moment, as my eyes met his grey blue ones, and time seemed to stop. Was I breathing? I wasn’t sure, but I felt like he was drawing me closer, like a magnetic pull and I never wanted to stop.

“Hey… steady…” He lifted me into his arms and carried me back outside, lowering me onto my feet, and helping me to lean against the wall. Fresh air wafted around me, filling my senses, and clearing some of the fog from my mind. His warm body was still pressed against mine, and I wished I’d taken the time to memorise how it felt to be cradled in his strong arms before it was over.

“I…”

“Yeah, lotta paint fumes in there. I’m used to it, but I think it went to your head there, darlin’.”

I drew in a lungful of fresh air, and caught the scent of his cologne or whatever it was, and let out a soft moan. He stroked my hair back from my face.

“Slow breaths, that’s it… you’ll get your balance back in a mo.”

I couldn’t look away from his eyes, at least until his lips moved and he moistened them with the most enticing flick of his tongue.

“I thought I was falling for you,” I muttered softly, and he grinned slowly, leaning closer, with his arm bracing him against the wall.

“You don’t wanna fall for a guy like me, darlin’. Someone as sweet as you is destined for some good guy somewhere, probably drives some high end motor, and wears a suit.” He looked pissed as he said it, like he hated people in suits or something.

“A good guy?”

“They’re not all good though, darlin’. You gotta follow your instincts with them, and always, always watch for red flags, yeah?” He stroked my hair back again, tucking it behind my ear, his fingers lingering on my cheek.

I felt like he was going to kiss me, and I wanted it. I wanted it so much. My first real kiss. Not some lame attempt at one from a kid my own age back in school, but a real kiss from a real man. My body felt like it was buzzing, like I was tingling from the inside out. Just his proximity was making me swoon like some old time woman in a too-tight corset.

“You’re a good guy.”

His eyes shifted away from mine, and he backed up, putting too much distance between us before he spoke again.

“Sorry to disappoint you, darlin’. I’m as fucked up as they get, and not safe for the likes of you. You should get back inside, go check on your brother or something. I need to get spraying, and you shouldn’t be near the fumes.” His harsh tone didn’t match the look in his eyes.

Maybe it was time for me to stop reading romance books, and accept the fact that sometimes men were just conflicted, and it didn’t mean love or passion or even lust. It just meant disinterest or ambivalence. Why would a man like him be interested in a pathetic woman-child like me?

My legs were still shaking when I walked away from him, but I felt like his eyes were on me the whole time, and later when I thought back on those moments with him, I was mortified, because I came across as the kind of woman who practically faints over the man of her dreams, and I never thought I was that person until right then. Was it any wonder he wanted to send me away from him?