CHAPTER THREE
I wake with a warm body in my arms, and for a split second, I don’t remember where the fuck I am.
Then I breathe in, and the scent of watermelon and sex fills my nose.
Pinky.
Her pink hair is spread across my chest, and one of her legs is hooked over mine. Her breathing is slow and even, telling me she’s still asleep. I tighten my arm around her, holding her against me like I’m afraid she’ll disappear.
What the hell is wrong with me?
I never do this.
Never.
I get my fill and send ‘em packing. No sleepovers. No cuddling. No waking up with ‘em still in my bed.
But something about this little slip of a woman has me twisted up in knots.
My butterfly.
Fuck, I’m in deep.
She shifts against me, and those big blue eyes blink open. When she sees me watching her, a shy smile spreads across her face.
“Good morning,” she murmurs, her voice husky from sleep.
“Morning, butterfly.” I brush a strand of pink hair from her cheek. “You’re beautiful.”
Her cheeks flush pink, and I chuckle. I’ve never seen a woman blush so easily.
“Stop,” she mumbles, burying her face against my chest.
“Why? It’s true.”
She peeks up at me and her eyes shift over to the clock on the bedside table. As her gaze starts to move back, her whole body jolts.
“Oh, shit! I overslept!”
I look at the digital display. It’s barely eight in the morning. “It’s early.”
“Not for me.” She scrambles out of bed, giving me a perfect view of her naked body as she searches for her clothes. “I was supposed to be downstairs an hour ago.”
“What’s the hurry?” I prop myself up on my elbow, watching her ass as she bends to retrieve her shorts.
She shoots me a look over her shoulder. “The Poker Run is today. I’m supposed to take care of the guys this morning.”
My brows snap together. “What the fuck does that mean?” The green monster inside me rears its ugly head, surprising the hell out of me.
Since when do I get jealous?
She rolls her eyes as she pulls on her tank top. “Cook. Serve breakfast. That sorta thing.” She smirks. “You’re acting like a jealous boyfriend.”
I ignore her observation as my hackles lower. “Oh.”
“Yeah, oh.” She leans over the bed and plants a long, wet kiss on my mouth. “Thanks for one helluva night.”
Did she just give me the morning-after brush-off?
My lips twitch. She sure as fuck did.
Before I can say anything, she’s sliding into her sandals and slipping out the door.
Damn.
I scrub my hands over my face.
“Fuck it.” I’m awake, I might as well get up and go downstairs. Maybe grab some coffee and see if my boys are up and at ‘em.
Throwing off the covers, I roll out of bed and pad to the bathroom to handle my morning business. I take a leak and wash my hands, staring at my reflection in the mirror.
You’re too old for that girl.
Blowing out a breath, I uncap my deodorant and roll it on, then brush my teeth with the travel kit I always carry. Running a hand through my hair, I decide it’s good enough and head back into the bedroom to look for my bag.
“There you are.” I grab it off the floor and toss it on the bed.
I pull a fresh t-shirt out and tug it over my head, threading my hands through the holes. I step into the jeans I had on last night and attach the chain on my wallet to the belt loops. Then I stomp my feet into my Harley boots, slide on my cut, grab my keys off the nightstand, and head downstairs.
When I hit the bottom step, my eyes lock onto Pinky like a heat-seeking missile. She’s behind the bar, her pink hair piled on top of her head in a messy bun that’s sexy as hell on her. She’s got on a different pair of short shorts and another scrap of fabric that barely covers her tits.
My pecker twitches behind my zipper.
Down, boy. She blew us off.
I spot my brothers sitting at a table near the windows and they wave me over. Weaving through the crowd, I drop into the chair across from Crazy Train.
“Morning, sunshine,” Train says with that shit-eating grin of his. “You look like hell.”
“Fuck off,” I mutter.
Cleo, Train’s old lady, smirks at me from her spot tucked against his side. Her purple hair is down today, cascading over her shoulders. She’s wearing one of those steampunk getups she favors—black leather pants and a corset top with red lacing. “Late night?”
I flip her off, and she laughs.
Klutch sits next to her with Demi on his lap. The kid looks tired but happy, her head resting on his shoulder.
My eyes drift back to Pinky, and I catch her looking at me. I wave her over. She nods, grabs a carafe of coffee, and makes her way to our table.
She fills Crazy Train’s cup first, then moves around to me. I flip over the empty cup in front of me, and she fills it without a word.
“Want some breakfast?” she asks, not quite meeting my eyes.
I smirk, leaning back in my chair. “Yeah, I’m fucking starving. I worked up quite an appetite after last night.”
Her lips twitch, and a hint of pink touches her cheeks. “I’ll go see what I can scrounge up in the kitchen.”
I watch her ass as she swishes those hips on her way to the kitchen, then growl when Morpheus blocks my view as he approaches the table.
“You’ve got it bad, brother,” Morph says, dropping into the chair next to me.
I grunt, taking a sip of my coffee. It’s strong and black, just how I like it.
“So, you guys wanna go on the Poker Run today?” Morpheus asks, looking around the table.
Klutch nods. “Yeah, we’re in.”
Crazy Train shrugs. “Sure. Why the fuck not?”
“Good,” Morph says. “We’re riding from here down to Miami, with stops in between. Probably take most of the day, but it’s good weather for it.”
As he’s explaining the route, something about A1A and beach stops, Pinky comes back with a plate piled high with scrambled eggs, bacon, and toast. She sets it in front of me, and before she can step away, I wrap my arm around her waist and pull her down onto my lap.
She squeaks, grabbing my shoulder to steady herself. “What are you doing?”
“Ride with me today,” I say, looking up at her. “On the Poker Run.”
She bites her lip, her eyes darting to the others at the table. “I don’t know...”
“Aww, come on!” Cleo says, leaning forward with a bright smile. “You should totally go. It’ll be fun. I promise we don’t bite.”
Train snorts. “Speak for yourself, Pebbles.”
She elbows him in the ribs, and he grunts.
Pinky looks at Cleo, then back at me. “I really should stay here and—”
“Come on, butterfly,” I say, cutting her off. “Keep me company.”
She studies my face for a long moment, worrying that plump bottom lip between her teeth. Finally, she sighs. “Fine. I’ll go.”
I grab the back of her neck and pull her face down to mine, pressing my lips to hers. I don’t give a fuck that everyone’s watching. When I pull back, her face is bright red.
“You’re crazy,” she whispers.
“Crazy about you,” I whisper back.
She slides off my lap, smoothing down her shorts. “I need to change. What I have on isn’t safe for the bike.”
“Good call,” I agree, eyeing her skimpy outfit. “As much as I appreciate the view, I don’t want road rash on that pretty skin. Gotta dress for the slide, not the ride.”
She smirks and disappears up the stairs. I watch her go, then turn my attention to the food in front of me.
“Damn,” Crazy Train says, shaking his head. “Never seen you like this over a piece of ass.”
I point my fork at him, narrowing my eyes. “Watch your mouth.”
He raises his hands in surrender, but there’s a knowing look in his eyes that pisses me off.
“So,” Cleo says, grinning at me like the cat that ate the canary.
I glance at her. “What?”
“She seems sweet. And you clearly like her.”
I shrug, biting into a piece of bacon. “She’s alright.”
“Alright?” Cleo laughs, the sound bright and genuine. “You just pulled her onto your lap and kissed her in front of everyone like a caveman claiming his woman. That says you think she’s more than just alright.”
Crazy Train wraps his arm around her shoulders. “Leave him alone, Pebbles.”
“I’m just saying,” Cleo continues, ignoring her old man. “It’s nice to see him interested in someone. He’s usually so... grumpy.”
“Grumpy?” I grunt.
“Yes. Grumpy!” She winks at me.
Demi giggles against Klutch’s chest. “She’s not wrong.”
Klutch grins. “Rambler’s always been a grumpy bastard.”
“I’m sitting right here,” I mutter.
“We know,” Morpheus says, slapping me on the back. “That’s what makes it fun.”
I shake my head and go back to finishing my breakfast. The eggs are good—fluffy and seasoned just right. The bacon is crispy. The toast is buttered. I polish off the whole plate in record time.
Just as I’m draining the last of my coffee, Pinky comes bouncing down the stairs.
“Holy fuck.”
My jaw nearly hits the floor.
She’s wearing black leather pants that hug her short, skinny legs like a second skin. They’re tight in all the right places, showing off the curve of her ass and the line of her thighs. My eyes rake farther down and—
Are those heels?
They sure as shit are.
Black stilettos with hot pink soles that make her legs look a mile long.
Fuck me.
I want her wearing nothing but those sexy shoes when I fuck her again.
“You look hot as shit, butterfly,” I say when she reaches the table.
She does a little spin, the heels clicking on the floor. “You think so?”
“I think you’re gonna give me a heart attack.”
She laughs, and the sound goes straight to my dick. “Got my helmet too,” she says, shaking the black and pink helmet in her hands.
Cleo claps her hands together. “Oh my God, you look amazing! I love those pants.”
“Thanks!” Pinky beams. “I got them at the Harley store a few months ago. This is the first time I’m getting to wear them.”
“They’re perfect,” Demi says with a shy smile.
Chief whistles from across the room, the sharp sound cutting through the chatter. “Time to head out, motherfuckers!”
“Ready, baby?” I stand and hold out my hand.
She takes it, her small fingers wrapping around mine. “Yep.”
Everyone starts moving, chairs scraping against the floor as brothers and a few old ladies head for the door. The energy in the room shifts—excitement and anticipation crackling in the air.
I lead Pinky outside into the warm Florida sunshine. It’s a perfect day for a ride—blue sky, not a cloud in sight, and the temperature is perfect.
“Where are you parked?”
“This way,” I say, leading her over to where my Bagger sits next to Klutch’s bike.
She stops beside my ride, running her hand over the seat. “She’s beautiful.”
“She treats me right.” I wink.
Pinky laughs. “I bet she does.”
I climb on first and start her up, then I hold out my hand to Pinky.
“Thanks.” She grins, grabbing hold as she puts her foot on the peg, then throws her leg over the fender.
“Comfortable?” I ask over my shoulder.
She nods, sliding her helmet on. “Mmhmm.”
“Good. Hold on tight, butterfly.”
Her arms go around my middle, and her tits press against my back.
Chief takes point at the front of the pack with Cora on the back of his bike. Morpheus pulls up beside him. Then the rest of us fall into formation.
Chief raises his fist, then drops it.
With my butterfly wrapped around my back, we’re off.