CHAPTER TWO
“Damn.” I pull in a breath and lean back against the sexy biker’s door.
My heart is hammering away in my chest like I just ran a mile, and my skin feels all tingly. I fan my face with my hand.
What the hell was that?
I’ve been around plenty of hot bikers. I mean, hello, I’ve been living in this clubhouse for six months.
But that guy… HOLY SHIT!
There’s something magnetic about the way that man looked at me, like he could see straight through all my bullshit.
Aaron—Rambler—whatever his name is.
His stormy gray eyes made my stomach do this weird flipity thing. And the way he took his time admiring my body from head to toe?Like he was memorizing every inch of me?
Goddamn.
I fan my face again. Did someone turn the heat on in here?
He’s old enough to be my dad, sure, but I don’t care about that. Age is just a number, and that man is fine as hell with his salt and pepper hair and trimmed beard. Don’t even get me started on those big hands with the tattoos or the way his cut stretches across his broad shoulders.
I bite my lip, remembering how close he stood to me. How he smelled like leather and some kind of spicy cologne that made me want to strip naked and bathe in it.
And he called me beautiful.
Not hot or sexy.
Beautiful.
My fingers drift to my throat without me even thinking about it, and I quickly drop my hand back to my side. I haven’t felt beautiful in a long time. Especially not since...
No. Nope. Don’t go there.
I shake off the ugly thoughts and push off the door, heading down the hall toward my room. I need to get ready to work. And maybe I’ll put on something cute, just in case a certain hottie decides to come down for a drink.
“Pinky, darlin’, I’m still waiting on that bourbon,” Dread calls from the end of the bar, flashing me his dimples.
“Hold your horses,” I call back, rolling my eyes as I grab a bottle from the shelf behind me. “You’d think your arms were broken.”
“I just like watching you bend over to get it,” he says with a wink.
I flip him off, and he clutches his heart like I’ve wounded him mortally, which makes me laugh despite myself. I pour his drink and slide it across the bar to him, and he blows me a kiss before turning back to the pool game he’s playing with Reign.
The clubhouse is quieter than usual tonight.
Most of the brothers headed to Onyx Beach out in Cali a couple of days ago for some big meet-up with the charter there, so we’re down to a skeleton crew.
Chief’s here with Cora, and so is Morpheus, but they’re both holed up in the office doing whatever club stuff they do.
The rest are just hanging around, playing pool, drinking, smoking weed, the usual Friday night stuff. A few of the girls are dancing to the music blaring from the speakers, and Bubbles is giving Chilly a lap dance in the corner.
I wipe down the bar, humming along to the music, when I feel the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. Someone’s watching me.
I subtly turn around and look out of the corner of my eye, and there he is.
Rambler’s standing at the bottom of the stairs, those intense gray eyes locked on me.
He’s changed his clothes. I doubt anyone else can tell since it’s another black t-shirt that clings to his muscular chest, but I do.
I notice the clean jeans that hang just right on his hips, too.
His cut is open, and I can see a silver chain glinting at his neck.
Our eyes meet, and for a second, he looks almost surprised, like he wasn’t expecting me to notice him. He shakes his head slightly, like he’s coming out of a trance, and then swaggers over to the bar.
My mouth goes dry as I watch him.
He moves with this confident swagger. Like a man who doesn’t have a single thing to prove–like a man who knows exactly what he wants.
And right now, his eyes are telling me what he wants is me.
Damn that’s hot.
With a smirk on his face, he slides onto an empty bar stool directly across from me, and rests his forearms on the bar. The position makes his biceps flex under his t-shirt sleeves, and I have to force myself not to stare.
“Hi,” I say, my voice coming out breathy. I clear my throat. “Can I get you something?”
His mouth twitches, but he doesn’t smile. “Gimme’ a beer, butterfly. Whatever you’ve got on tap.”
I nod and grab a glass, filling it from the tap. The whole time, I can feel his eyes on me, watching every move I make. When I set the beer in front of him, our fingers brush, and a shiver runs up my arm.
“Thanks, butterfly,” he says, his voice deep and seductive.
The nickname makes my cheeks heat. “My pleasure.”
He takes a long sip of his beer, still watching me over the rim of the glass. When he sets it down, he swipes his thumb across his bottom lip to catch a stray drop, and the gesture makes my stomach clench.
“I heard you’re leaving soon,” he says.
I freeze for half a second, then shrug, trying to play it cool. “Yeah. Time to move on, I guess.”
“Where you headed?” He takes another sip, his eyes never leaving mine.
“I don’t know yet.” I busy myself with wiping down the already clean bar top.
It’s the truth. Since telling Chief that I’m leaving I haven’t had time to really think about where I want to go.
The safest bet would be somewhere north.
Somewhere Eddie wouldn’t think to look for me.
I go with the generic answer, “Somewhere. Anywhere. Just... away from here.”
His eyebrows pull together, and I quickly realize it was a stupid move. “You running from something, butterfly?”
The question is so direct that I almost drop the rag I’m holding. I look up at him, and there’s something in his eyes that makes me want to tell him everything. But I can’t. I barely know this man.
“Aren’t we all running from something?” I counter, forcing a smile.
He doesn’t smile back. Just keeps looking at me with those stormy eyes that feel like they can see right down to my soul. “Some more than others.”
Before I can respond, a loud whistle cuts through the noise of the clubhouse. We both turn to see Morph standing by the door, two fingers in his mouth. When he drops his hand, he calls out, “Who’s coming to Heaven’s Door? First round’s on me!”
A chorus of hoots and hollers follows his announcement, and several brothers immediately start heading for the door, eager to hit the strip club.
“You going?” I ask Rambler, nodding toward the exodus.
He looks back at me, his expression unreadable. “No.”
My brows hit the roof. “No?”
“No.” He shakes his head before taking another sip of his beer. “Rather stay here and talk to you.”
My heart skips a beat. There’s no beating around the bush with this guy. And I have to admit. I really freaking like that about him.
In the six months that I’ve been here, I can’t remember a single time a brother has turned down a trip to the strip club to hang out with me instead. I’m usually the backup plan. No, scratch that. I’m always the backup plan. The easy lay when they strike out with the girls at Heaven’s Door.
“Seriously?” The word slips out before I can stop it.
Rambler arches a dark brow. “Are you that surprised that I’d rather spend time with you than watch strippers hang upside down on a pole?”
I shrug, suddenly feeling awkward. “I mean, kinda. Yeah.”
His jaw tightens, and something dark flashes in his eyes. “The men around here are fucking idiots.”
A surprised laugh escapes me. “You’re going to make enemies talking like that.”
“I don’t care.” He leans forward slightly. “They don’t see what I see.”
My heart skips a beat and I swallow.
“And what’s that?” My voice is barely above a whisper as I move so my face is right in front of his.
His eyes dart back and forth between mine. “A beautiful woman who deserves to be the first choice. Who deserves to be worshipped like a queen. A woman who shouldn’t be any motherfucker’s backup plan.”
Holy. Shit.
My jaw feels like it drops to the sand-covered floor.
I don’t even know what to say to that. I’m utterly freaking speechless.
The door slams as the last of the strip club crowd leaves, and suddenly the clubhouse is almost empty.
Only a handful of people are scattered around, and most of them are focused on their own conversations or the pool game still going on in the corner.
Rambler glances around, then looks back at me. “Come upstairs with me.”
It’s not a question, but it’s not quite a command either. It’s somewhere in between, leaving the choice entirely up to me.
I know exactly what he’s asking. And I know I’m well within my rights to say no. I’m not a Cherry anymore—Chief made that clear after I told him I wanted to leave. No one can demand anything from me.
But the way Rambler is looking at me like I’m the brightest star in the sky, like he can’t imagine wanting to be anywhere else but with me, makes me want to throw caution to the wind.
“Okay,” I say softly.
The corner of his mouth ticks up. “Yeah?”
I nod, then toss my bar rag onto the counter. “Yeah.”
His eyes darken as he watches me walk around the bar toward him. He spins on his stool to face me, spreading his legs so I can step between them. When I do, his hands settle on my hips, warm and callused, thumbs lightly brushing the strip of bare skin between my tank top and shorts.
I rest my hands on his thighs, feeling the hard muscle beneath the worn denim. His eyes never leave mine as I slide my palms up toward his hips, enjoying the way his muscles flex under my touch.
“You sure about this, butterfly?” he asks, his voice a low rumble that vibrates in my chest.
I nod. “Yeah. I’m sure.”
That’s all he needs to hear.
In one smooth move, he slides off the stool and picks me up, hands gripping my thighs. I wrap my legs around his waist and my arms around his neck, a little squeak of surprise escaping me.
“I’ve been thinking about this since the minute I laid eyes on you,” he growls.
Then his mouth is on mine, and oh my god.