CHAPTER SIX
Foxy veers away from my Harley Breakout and heads to her RV.
“Uh, Babe… My bike is over here.” I point in the opposite direction that she’s walking.
Babe? Jesus. Her brother would cut off my balls if he heard me call her that.
Foxy turns her head, her green eyes flashing with amusement. “And my bike is in here.”
My brows hike up to my hairline in surprise. Her bike?
The picture of her on a Softail flashes in my mind, and my cock thickens.
She’s got my undivided attention now, especially on that sexy-as-hell ass. Eyes glued to her, I track her every move as she struts over to the back of the RV, flips open a panel I didn’t notice before, and punches in a string of numbers on the keypad within.
What kind of Go-Go-Gadget shit is that?
Clapping and bouncing on her toes, Foxy’s eyes flick back and forth between me and her RV. A loud mechanical groan suddenly echoes across the alleyway. “Wait ’til you see her.”
I can’t help but smile at her excitement.
Slowly, the entire back of the vehicle starts to fall away from the back of her rig. Down it goes, until it’s lying flat on the ground like a ramp.
“That damn thing has a toy hauler,” I say out loud.
“Yeah!” she answers excitedly.
“You’ve got to be kidding me?” I laugh. Gleaming under an interior light is a custom street bike. The damn thing is just as gaudy as the vehicle hauling it around—sparkly bass-boat black with some kind of hot pink half-wrap over it.
I squint my eyes and look closer at the design. “Is that Hello Kitty?”
Her head swings in my direction, and her eyes are dancing. “You know about Hello Kitty?”
“Ten-year-old daughter, remember?”
She smacks her palm against her forehead. “Oh yeah.”
“You got a thing for glitter, don’t ya?” I chuckle, moving closer to get a better look. Crotch-rockets have never been my thing, but I have to say, Foxy on one, just might make me a believer.
She smirks. “What tipped you off?”
A deep throaty laugh rips up my throat. This damn woman just keeps on surprising me.
“I just have to get my girl out,” she adds.
“You need some help?” I move to help her, but she waves me off.
“Nah, I got it.”
Smiling ear to ear, I watch her strut her sexy ass up the ramp, her hips swaying with each step. She moves into the small space and unfastens the ratchet straps holding the Kawasaki Ninja 600 in place.
“How long have you been riding?”
She cranes her neck and shoots me a flirty smile. “Longer than I can remember. I grew up on the back of a bike.”
That makes sense. She comes from a long line of bikers.
“Plus, I couldn’t let you boys have all the fun.”
“Guess not.” I snort.
The deep rumble of a Harley approaching pulls my attention away from the temptress bent over her motorcycle. Bane pulls up, his expression stormy as he cuts the engine.
Fuck. Here we go.
My brother climbs off his bike, eyeing Foxy and the toy hauler with thinly veiled disdain.
“What the fuck is that?” Bane jerks his chin toward the RV’s open back.
“That,” I say, grinning like an idiot, “is her bike.”
Bane’s eyes narrow as he watches Foxy toss the ratchet straps into the corner of the hauler. “Well, isn’t that fucking precious,” he mutters.
The muscle in my jaw twitches as I fight the urge to tell him to shut the fuck up. I get it—his pride is wounded. Having a woman half his size put him on his ass in front of the club isn’t something he’ll forget anytime soon. But there’s a line, and he’s dancing on it.
Foxy throws a black leather-clad leg over the seat of her bike, and I swear my jeans get tighter. She fires up the engine, and the low growl echoes in the toy hauler before she rides it down the ramp.
“Pocket rocket for a pocket-sized bitch,” Bane sneers loud enough that I know Foxy heard him.
“Knock it off,” I warn, keeping my voice low. “It ain’t no damn pocket rocket.”
It’s fucking hot, is what it is.
The thought of this tiny blonde powerhouse handling that machine, that tight body controlling all that power between her legs—Christ, I need to stop this train of thought before I embarrass myself.
Bane’s eyes narrow as he watches her park her bike next to mine. “Heard she’s Chief’s sister,” he says, his voice low. “Also heard he called and said she was off limits.”
I glare at the annoying bastard. “Which one of them told you?”
He smirks. “Bash.”
My SAA has a big fucking mouth. I shouldn’t be surprised, though. The whole lot of ‘em are like a bunch of fucking hens. Always clucking about shit they shouldn’t be putting their nose in.
Foxy cuts her bike’s engine and glances over at us. I don’t miss the wariness in her expression as she eyes Bane. She’s on guard, and who can blame her?
“You’re going to try and fuck her, aren’t you?” he accuses, seeing the way I’m looking at her.
A grin spreads across my face.
“Gonna be a real goddamn shame to ruin the business deal we just made with the Saints.”
I shrug. Maybe. Maybe not. It’s not like I’m going to tell Jacksonville where I’m sticking my dick. It’s none of their goddamn business.
Bane curses.
“You know what,” I turn to face him. “I don’t remember needing your permission to do jack-shit.”
He shakes his head in disgust, but wisely doesn’t say another word about it. “Why’s she getting the bike out?”
“We’re going to Dave’s,” I explain, watching as Foxy sets her helmet on the back of her bike and walks toward us.
Foxy struts over on those goddamn boots I'm imagining thrown over my shoulders while I plow into her. “I wanted to apologize again,” she says as she approaches, her eyes locked on Bane. “About earlier. I shouldn’t have reacted that way.”
Bane crosses his arms over his chest, his expression unreadable. Then he looks at me, deliberately ignoring her attempt at an olive branch. “I’m coming with you. I don’t trust this bitch.”
Foxy flinches at his harsh words, and something protective rises in me.
“Knock it the fuck off,” I snap at my little brother. “Now.”
“Bitch,” he grumbles as he turns his back on both of us and marches over to his bike.
Her lips turn down as she watches him walk away. I can see the hurt and resignation in her emerald eyes and instantly want to throttle my little brother. He’s being a fucking prick because his pride is wounded. I get it, but I’m not going to let that shit slide much longer. She apologized.
Twice.
“I’m sorry about him,” I say, reaching out to squeeze her shoulder gently. “I wish I could say that he’s just having a bad day, but he’s been a stubborn asshole since birth.” And that’s the damn truth.
Her eyes close, and she sucks in a slow breath.
“Babe?”
She shakes her head, and slowly her eyes open, forcing a smile. “It’s okay.”
“No, Angel. It’s fucking not. I meant what I said, though. He’s always been an asshole, but he’s loyal as fuck. Once you break through, he’s got your back for life.”
She smiles sadly at me, and something in my chest tightens uncomfortably. I can’t explain it, but I have a sudden, overwhelming need to erase that sadness from her face. To slay all her dragons. To do whatever it takes to make her smile a real smile again.
What the hell is she doing to me?
Since when do I give a shit about a woman's feelings? Since when does anything beyond getting my dick wet matter?
"Let's ride," I say, not willing to examine these new feelings too closely.
Nodding her head, she struts across the alleyway. I follow behind her and climb on my bike, shooting Bane a look when our eyes catch. He’d better fix his fucking attitude before I fix it for him. Catching my look, he rolls his eyes.
I glance over at Foxy, and even with the full-face helmet she's put on, I can feel her eyes on me. I wish I knew what was going through her mind. Is she feeling this pull like I am? This tether?
“We going or what?” Bane barks.
I flip him off, then fire up my bike and pull out of the alley first. A heartbeat later, Foxy falls in beside me, with Bane bringing up the rear.
In no time we’re pulling into Dave's small parking lot.
Foxy rode like she was born on a bike. It was perfect, all except for when we rode by King Crow Ink.
Those horny bastards were standing outside smoking, and not a single one of them could take their eyes off her, tracking her every move like hungry wolves watching their prey.
I’ve never been the jealous type—not since Jennifer anyway—but seeing other men eye-fucking Foxy makes me want to put my fist through their fucking skulls.
I kill the engine, watching as Foxy gracefully dismounts her bike.
She pulls off her helmet, and I nearly swallow my tongue as all that blonde hair tumbles free around her shoulders.
Then, like she’s in one of those hot-as-hell shampoo commercials, she flips her head over and shakes out her long tresses.
When she flips back up, I can’t help but groan. Her cheeks are flushed pink from the Florida heat, and with all that wild hair framing her face, she has a freshly fucked look that makes my cock twitch.
“You’re totally screwed,” Bane mutters beside me.
Don’t I fucking know it.
“What?” Foxy asks, catching us both staring at her. She wipes at her face self-consciously. “Is my makeup crazy?”
“You’re beautiful.” The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them.
“I—” she blushes ten shades of pink and looks away. “Thank you. You’re not so bad yourself.”
“Seriously?” Bane grumps, but I’m hardly paying him any attention. I’m too enthralled by the woman standing in front of me.
I’ve never felt this kind of instant connection with anyone before. It’s like she’s got some kind of magnetic pull on me, and I’m powerless to resist.
“Fuck it,” I growl. Stalking around the back of her bike, I move right into her space. My hands go to her hips, and her breath catches.
I pull her close, and her lids droop.
Fuck yes.
She’s feeling it too. Slowly, giving her time to push me away if she doesn’t want this, I dip my head. “Gonna kiss you.”
“Okay,” she breathes.
My lips brush across hers, soft and sweet. She whimpers, and it’s my undoing.
Growling, I sweep my tongue across the seam of her lips, and she opens for me. My heart pounds against my ribcage like it’s trying to break free, and the taste of her—sweet like honey with a hint of mint—floods my senses.
MINE echoes in my mind as our tongues dance, and I dominate her mouth.
When I finally pull back, her eyes are closed, and her lips are pink and swollen from my kiss.
She’s so goddamn beautiful.
Her belly growls loudly, and she giggles.
Fuck, that might be my new favorite sound.
I tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. “Let’s get you fed, Angel.”
She nods, biting that plum lip again.
I pull it free from her teeth. “Don’t do that. Makes me want to bite it myself.”
Her eyes darken at my words, then shift to something behind me, and she frowns. “Where’d your brother go?”
I glance over my shoulder. His bike is parked on the other side of Foxy’s, but he’s not there. “Probably already went inside.”
I take her hand, threading my fingers through hers.
I never hold a woman’s hand, but this feels right.
When we walk into Dave’s Deli, the bell above the door announces our arrival. I glance around the dining room but don’t see my brother anywhere.
“You sure he came in?” Foxy voices my thoughts.
“Fuck.”
“I’ll go see if he’s outside,” she offers.
My lips turn down. I’m not sure if that’s such a good idea. I open my mouth to argue, but she cuts me off.
“I want to bury the hatchet,” she insists.
I study her face for a moment, seeing the determination there. This matters to her.
Heaving a sigh, I nod. “Alright. I’ll grab us a table.”
The side of her mouth tips up before she turns on her heel and marches for the door.
Bane’s right.
I’m totally fucked.