Rock (Shadowridge Guardians MC #12)

Prologue

PROLOGUE

F orty years ago …

“Get out, punk.”

Lyla lifted her face to glare in the direction her brother would soon make his appearance. He hadn’t even fully descended the stairs and rounded the corner before he was already demanding she leave the basement. Why he thought he owned the basement she would never understand, but every time he had friends over, he kicked her out and made her go upstairs. As if she wanted to hang with their parents any more than he did.

She could hear two sets of footsteps pounding down the wooden stairs, which meant he only had one friend with him this afternoon. Hopefully it wasn’t Mark or Jeff. Both of them were douchebags. The others were usually friendly or indifferent toward her.

Gaze narrowed, she caught his eyes as soon as he came into view. “I’m in the middle of something.”

“Don’t care. Do it upstairs in your room,” Jackson demanded.

A second later, his friend stepped into her line of sight, and Lyla’s breath hitched. This wasn’t Mark or Jeff or any other friend she’d ever met. This guy was new. He was also hot.

Lyla set her pencil down on the table and quickly closed her sketchbook. She didn’t like anyone seeing her drawings. Ever. She returned her gaze to the newcomer. It was hard to look away.

He was tall. Six foot. Broad. His brown hair was in need of a cut. He hadn’t shaved for a few days. Or perhaps he simply hadn’t shaved today. The guy had on a worn black leather jacket with some kind of patch, and when he took it off seconds later and draped it over his arm, her breath hitched again.

His arms were huge, much bigger than any other boy she knew at school. And he had a tattoo.

Lyla’s mouth went completely dry. She had no idea why she was so attracted to this guy. Her parents would shit if she ever dated someone like him, and that thought alone almost made her giggle.

At sixteen, she’d only been permitted to date for the past month, and so far, it hadn’t happened anyway. It was kind of a moot issue. Lyla wasn’t exactly a member of the “in” crowd. She had stringy brown hair, glasses, and braces. Boys weren’t lined up, waiting for her to turn sixteen, so she could go on dates.

Jackson snatched an apple from the basket across from her, the fruit basket she’d been sketching for art class. He took a bite, the crunch sounding loud in the silence.

She jerked her attention back to him. “Hey, I was using that.”

He shrugged. “You know Mom and Dad are never going to let you go to art school. I don’t know why you bother sitting around drawing shit.” He took another bite.

She flinched. She was well aware her parents thought she should become a teacher or a nurse. That didn’t mean she intended to ignore her passion. She could always sketch as a hobby.

Jackson nodded toward the stairs. “Rock and I have homework to do. Beat it.”

Her eyes widened as she shifted her attention back to the tattooed hunk. Rock . Even his name was sexy. “Homework…” she deadpanned.

Rock smirked. “Calculus.”

“So, you’re here to help my brother.” She gathered her own books and her sketch pad. She’d already finished all her homework earlier, and she knew her brother well enough to surmise he’d asked this new guy over to help him. Math wasn’t his strongest subject.

Rock’s brows went up as he stared at her. Finally, he shrugged. “We’re just going to study together.”

Interesting. The guy didn’t want to throw her brother under the bus.

Jackson finished his apple and tossed the core into the trashcan. “You can leave now.”

Lyla shot him another glare. “Don’t get your panties in a wad. I’m going. And I won’t tell anyone you have a math tutor either.” After stepping around the table, she hugged her books to her chest and headed for the stairs.

Maybe she walked a bit closer to Rock than absolutely necessary. Maybe she inhaled deeply as she approached him. Maybe she would never forget his scent as it filled her nose. He was no boy. He was a man. He was undoubtedly a senior like her brother and probably eighteen, but he gave off a vibe of someone older. Wiser. More solid.

“Shit. Forgot drinks and snacks. I’ll be right back,” Jackson declared before he bounded back up the stairs.

“Sorry,” Rock murmured.

She paused next to him. “For what?”

“Didn’t mean to kick you out. You were here first.”

She smiled, even though she knew she was nowhere close to being in his league, what with her mouthful of braces and total lack of makeup. She pushed her glasses up on her nose. “It’s okay. I’m used to it. Jackson’s a good guy. He just likes to posture in front of his friends.”

“Mmm. Not sure I like how he speaks to you.”

A shiver wracked her body. Was this guy sticking up for her? She squeezed her books tighter against her small breasts, grateful the cover was keeping him from noticing how young she was or that her nipples were suddenly hard.

His voice. Yikes . Deep and sensual. He never looked away.

She licked her dry lips, unable to keep moving past him.

“You’re in calculus too, aren’t you?” Rock asked. “I think I’ve seen you coming out of the third-period class.”

Stunned didn’t begin to describe how she felt. She gaped at him. “Yes,” she whispered. “I could help my brother myself, but he doesn’t like it when I do. Emasculating or something.”

Rock chuckled, the deep resonating sound making her heart race. “I understand that.”

She lowered her gaze to the jacket draped over his arm to avoid the intensity of everything that was Rock. When her eyes landed on the sleeve, she leaned in closer. “Is that patch a teddy bear with wings?”

He held it up for her to see better. “Yep. I’m a member of the Shadowridge Guardians MC. It’s our logo.”

“A motorcycle club?” She felt stupid for asking. Duh. Obviously.

“Yep.”

She’d never known anyone from a motorcycle club, but she knew one existed in town. “Aren’t you kind of young to belong to an MC?” she asked before she could filter herself. Shut up, Lyla. Just. Shut. Up .

He didn’t seem upset by her question. He simply shrugged. “My parents are members.”

Ah. So he’s like a legacy or something .

He nodded toward the fruit bowl. “You’re an artist.”

She shook her head. “No. I just dabble. It’s nothing really.”

“Can I see?”

Eyes wide again, she gaped at him. “Not a chance.”

His lips rose in a slow smile before he reached up and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. His rough fingers lingered. “Okay. Keep your secrets. But I’m going to ask again, and one day you’re going to show me what you’re hiding, Little Lyla.”

She sucked in a breath. Every inch of her body was on fire. The hottest boy/man she’d ever seen was standing inches away from her. He was still toying with her earlobe, and he was looking her right in the eye.

She glanced at his full lips, her overactive imagination wishing he would kiss her. That was absurd of course. He surely had women fawning all over him. Not girls. Women. Sexy women with nice boobs and skimpy skirts. Women with fancy hair, makeup, contacts, and perfect teeth.

“I should go upstairs,” she murmured.

“Yeah, you probably should.” His half smile caused her tummy to flutter. “Think of me when you’re sketching. Remember: One day I’m going to look through that sketchpad, Little Lyla.”

Why did he call her that? She couldn’t make sense of it, but it did something to her. It made a knot form in her stomach. She didn’t want to go upstairs. She wanted to stay down here with this man who was giving her his undivided attention. She wanted him to look at her like that for hours, stroke her hair, speak to her in that sexy, rough voice, and call her Little Lyla.

In your dreams .

The sound of her brother stomping back down the stairs made her flinch and take a giant step back. Her face flushed as if she’d done something naughty and was about to get caught.

She’d done a lot of naughty things, in her head at least. All sorts of naughty ideas flitted through her mind. She’d never kissed a boy before, but she’d bet this man could kiss like a real man. She’d bet he could do other things too, and she’d love to experience them.

Don’t be ridiculous .

“Why are you still down here?” Jackson demanded as he jumped the last few steps to the basement floor.

“I’m going. I’m going.” She could feel Rock’s heavy stare on her. It never wavered as her brother rushed past them, his arms laden with cans of soft drinks and bags of chips.

As she turned toward the stairs, forcing herself not to look back at Rock one last time, he grabbed her hand and leaned in to whisper in her ear. “Tell me you’ll never stop sketching. Never stop following your heart.”

“Okay.” She bit her lower lip, frozen as his breath teased her ear.

“Good girl.”