Chapter 2
PARIS “PD” DEITERS
My black bowler hat sat on my dresser. The new red ribbon above the brim gleamed.
I’d replaced it two days ago with Faye’s help.
She’d had some dead time at the Ink Well, and she was a Goth angel, so she’d helped me out.
I had steady hands, but she was amazing when it came to fine stitching to hide the seams. I snatched my hat up, twisting it in my hands as I paced the room.
The paintings on the walls, which I normally loved, all seemed too bright and poked at my eyes.
My bed was too neat. I made it every morning, folding hospital corners into the blankets.
My easel in the corner pissed me off as I stepped past it.
Not for any good reason, I wanted to kick it over and stomp the canvas until it snapped.
But Will’s eyes stared out at me where I’d started painting them in and I refused to ruin it.
What had I been thinking, kissing Will? It wasn’t much, and maybe he’d been too tired and hurt to notice, but fuck.
The warmth of his skin still tingled on my lips.
The docs had told me he wouldn’t remember anything from the accident.
That whole day might be lost to him forever.
So, I hadn’t said anything when he’d woken up.
I hadn’t kissed him. I hadn’t grabbed him and dragged him against my body the way I’d wanted to, either.
At the time, he’d been hooked up to so many tubes and wires . . . .
Rage pelted through me and I wished I’d drank more.
It would be nice to be passed out on the floor of the clubhouse.
Of course, I hadn’t done anything irresponsible since Will had gotten home.
He was my priority, even if he didn’t realize it.
My life revolved completely around him. Making sure he got to the physical therapy appointments he still had. Watching out for him.
Right this second, King had one of the fucks who’d caused Will’s pain hanging around in a fucking shed.
I leaned against my bedroom door, listening for Will.
The toilet flushed, then a door closed. I held my breath and waited a while, pacing some more, fury drenching my common sense in gasoline and lighting a match.
I stared at my bed and wanted the blankets to be rumpled from Will sharing it with me.
What if I’d just asked him if he wanted to come in here?
What if I’d just fucking lost my goddamned mind and had turned him around in that chair and blown him?
What if . . . he didn’t want that anymore?
My heart twisted. What if, thanks to the accident, he’d changed enough that he didn’t want me now?
When Will had woken up in the hospital, I’d taken it as a sign that some benevolent being in the universe fucking loved bikers.
Maybe I didn’t deserve it, but I was getting a second chance to take my balls in hand and let Will know how I felt about him.
But he was so sick and hurt, and when I’d stared down into his pale face, clean of his beard for the first time in years, I’d told myself I’d wait until he felt better, and then I’d make a move.
He needed to focus on healing, not whatever bullshit we might kick up in the dust of fucking and moving our relationship to something more than friends. He had to focus on himself.
The problem was, it was almost four years later, and while his body had healed a lot, I couldn’t call him better.
I wasn’t sure I would ever be able to call him better.
He was the same man, yet not. His mind was different. He was anxious and nervous and always huddling in on himself when he thought no one was paying attention—pained and consumed by everything he’d gone through.
Before he’d always been laughing.
He would come into the shop to shoot the shit and have fun with the clients he knew—we had a lot of regulars—and I’d have to chase him out because he’d get people laughing too hard while I was trying to tattoo them.
Now he barely smiled.
It was hell watching him go into his room alone each night, knowing that shit should’ve changed. We’d finally taken the terrifying leap past friendship that we’d been dancing around for years. We’d kissed—and it had been delicious—and a fucking bike accident had snatched it away.
I slapped my bowler hat onto my head.
My boots were nearly silent in the hallway as I crept out of my room.
I stopped at Will’s door and cracked it open, the same way I did every night.
He lay on his bed, sprawled out. He was the type of man who could sleep with no blankets and it was warm in the room.
We didn’t run our air conditioning much.
I rubbed my hand over my mouth as I memorized the curve of his firm ass under his black boxer briefs.
Even though his back hurt him, he insisted on sleeping on his belly.
His back still looked strong, despite everything.
There was a spot on his shoulder that had been pebbled by road rash.
It was old, though, an injury from when we’d first started riding together.
He’d taken a turn too tight and dumped his bike.
That day had scared me, too.
He let out a small whine under his breath and shifted around in his sleep. My heart crumpled.
As silently as possible, I stalked around the bed until I could look at his face, and a fresh rage clawed through me.
Will had the nicest lips. They were a rich pink and the bottom one was soft.
I remembered how sweet his mouth was against mine.
I touched my lips. His beard framed his mouth, the dark hair making it even more entrancing.
Shaking my head, I leaned down to plant a kiss on his temple. He didn’t stir. Carefully, I retraced my steps and headed out. I closed his door behind me and paid attention so I wouldn’t squeak the hinges.
I knew everything about this house we shared.
Jaw tight, I headed outside to my Triumph—a Bonneville Bobber.
A couple of the guys at the clubhouse had laughed at me when I’d bought it last year, especially when I’d modified it and put on a passenger seat, but I loved the classic look of the design and the black-and-orange paint job.
Besides, it went over a hundred miles per hour, like everyone else’s bike.
Why shouldn’t I ride it? Not everyone had to plant their ass on a Harley.
I walked my baby down the street before I started the engine so I wouldn’t wake Will with the noise, then flew through the empty streets back to the clubhouse. The wind rushing past my ears didn’t clear my head. It didn’t take me nearly long enough to get there.
When I stormed in the front door of the clubhouse, the short entrance hallway was nearly impassable because Jester had Bliss up against a wall with his legs wrapped around his waist, hammering into his body.
Bitterness smacked me as I slipped by. Last second, I slapped Jester’s ass and had to chuckle as he grunted but ignored me and kept going.
The party was still in full swing, and everyone and their brother and at least three friends had shown up while I was gone.
One of the overhead lights had been smashed since I’d left, which King was going to love, leaving part of the room near the pool table lost in deep shadow.
I could barely make my way into the barroom.
It would only be a matter of time before Josh got up on the bar and started ordering a few people out—for his own sanity.
I searched around for King and didn’t see him in the mess.
With a bit of maneuvering, I got to the other side of the room and went back the long hallway.
I’d escaped in the nick of time because someone switched the blaring rock music to techno dance crap.
I gritted my teeth. I couldn’t stand that shit.
There was a light shining from the crack under King’s office door. I didn’t bother knocking.
The first thing that caught my eye when I shoved open the door was Dallas on the floor between King’s spread thighs.
King was sprawled like royalty on a leather couch to my left, and God and everyone in the club had seen his cock, but Dallas didn’t have a stitch of clothing on.
I gaped at the view. Even though I loved Will, a show was a show. That boy had a perky ass.
King lazily pointed at me, but the snarl on his face said it all. His boyfriend was off-limits. I would’ve felt the same way.
Smiling, I retreated behind the door.
“Wanna talk, King,” I called into the room.
“Goddamn it. Mother fuck. This can’t wait?”
“No.”
He growled. “Blue balls don’t make me friendly.”
There was a beautiful sound, a moan that didn’t come from King and some slurping.
I rolled my eyes.
“Yeah, well, I don’t give a fuck,” I fired back, my anger stoking in my belly again. “What the fuck are you doing in here anyway when you’ve got that piece of shit Demon outside?”
“How’d you find out about—fuck, don’t stop, Sweetness.
” King let out a growl that sounded so much like sex that a tingle shot through my stomach.
It had been a long time since I’d been with anyone.
I’d been waiting on Will to get better, and I was so hard up that just listening to my slut of a president get it on had my gears turning.
Guess that made me one, too. “Damn. Give me five, PD, or I’ll toss your ass in the lake. ”
I slammed his office door but didn’t go far.
If he thought I was going to wander off and get drunk and forget about this, he was seriously mistaken.
I crossed my arms and leaned against the hallway wall.
I waited out some heavy-duty moans—not King’s—and even gave him an extra ten minutes, but then I decided I’d cooled my jets long enough.
When I pushed open the door again, King was pulling his shirt over his head and Dallas was draped on the couch with an arm flung over his eyes and a blanket laid over him.
His brown hair was on the long side and had turned into an all-over-the-place mess.