Running from Drac (Elm Street Riders MC #1)

Chapter One

Amber

I wake up smelling my infidelity before anything else. There’s a brisk scent of man in the air—that musky smell when sweat meets cologne and the two are at war. It invades my nose before I even have a chance to open my eyes.

That was my first clue that I screwed up.

Eddie never smells like this. If anything, my fiancé smells like grease monkey ball sweat. No joke. It’s the bad part of falling for a Gearhead. He constantly smells like grease, even after showering.

If enjoying the pretty man scent isn’t bad enough, my next clue is the massive bicep I’m using as a pillow. Eddie may be muscular, but this firm yet soft arm pillow is way too muscly to be my fiancé’s.

Goddamn, this bicep is way too comfortable.

And why is my body fitting against him like a long-lost piece of a puzzle that disappeared from the puzzle box?

Those pieces are supposed to be lost and never found.

Yet here I am, attaching myself to a complete stranger, finding spaces to fill against him that match every curve I have.

I must be drunk.

That’s the only logical explanation for having any kind of enjoyment out of this cheating, traitorous moment I’m currently stuck in.

My body stills as the mysterious stranger stirs beneath me.

I’m draped over him, my long blonde hair fans across his chest while my arms tuck perfectly against his torso.

A single white sheet is all that separates me from seeing allll of him.

Though it doesn’t do much for the massive erection he’s sporting.

That’s definitely up, loud, and very fucking proud.

How did I even get here?

Everything from last night is a complete blur of neon lights, drinking, gambling, and constant partying.

Now everything’s fuzzy, and my brain’s lingering in a weird hazy fog, like I’ve been drugged or something.

So much for one last hurrah… because this is not what I had in mind when my two best friends kidnapped me and put me on the first plane to Vegas, promising me one last fun girls’ trip before walking down the aisle with Eddie.

Speaking of friends… the two of them must’ve ditched me last night.

Those bitches! It’s their fault I got myself into this situation in the first place.

I told them both I didn’t want to come to Vegas.

But Pippa insisted, putting me on the first flight out of Reno even though she knows Eddie doesn’t approve.

His exact words when I told him I was going to Vegas with Poppy and Pippa were: “I don’t want my fucking fiancée whorin’ it up in the City of Sin like a cheap two-cent hooker. The only man who needs to look at you is me, Amber.”

I used to find his possessiveness sexy, but the more he pulls on the reins, the more I feel strangled.

Even though the suffocation sometimes feels extremely overwhelming, it will never outweigh the love I have for Eddie.

That love lingers in every part of me, creating the havoc I’m currently fighting with every failing breath.

Tears war with my eyes as the consequences of my actions start hitting me from all sides.

I royally fucked up.

Why did I even listen to them?

They insisted I needed to get out of Reno, saying I needed a break from school and to put some distance between Eddie and me after he openly admitted to cheating on me at the beginning of our relationship. Honestly, I knew they weren’t wrong.

I’ve been so wrapped up in trying to make Eddie happy and figure out why he cheated on me, while still trying to balance my schoolwork, that I never have time for myself, let alone time to do anything fun.

But that doesn’t mean I wanted to cheat on him.

I love Eddie! We’ve been together for five years.

He was my first… well… everything… and we’re supposed to get married in a few months.

Why did I have to go and mess everything up?

I need to leave now before Mr. Perfect Erection gets the wrong idea.

Cautiously, I peel us apart, our sweat sticking together like icky maple syrup as I try to maneuver over the top of him, bypassing the wooden salute pole that’s lurking beneath the sheets, and hoping like hell I won’t wake him.

I fail miserably.

He grins as I move away.

Fuck, if I wasn’t already buck ass naked, my panties would have zero hope of living until tomorrow with that panty-shredding smile of his. That smile’s the equivalent of an undergarment weed whacker.

“G’day, love!” he says in an ovary-sucking, fine as fuck, Australian accent that’s so thick and sultry, it has me heating in places that shouldn’t be heated.

Down, girl… he’s just a man.

A man who looks like a fucking angel.

I don’t think I’ve ever seen a man with eyes a vibrant shade of Spanish moss before, nor one with floppy bedhead that’s a seductive dirty blonde and has my fingers craving for a single rake through.

Those fingers are now imprisoned beneath my ass because if I let them loose, the crazy little tweakers will definitely seek out their follicle fix, fiancé be damned.

God, why can’t I remember anything about last night?

Stupid. I’m so fucking stupid.

“Um, good morning.” The heat of my cheeks is enough to warm a fireplace and heat up an entire house as the blanket moves, and allll of him presents itself to me.

He’s not only sexy but also very well-endowed. God blessed this man with everything, that’s for damn sure.

Don’t get me wrong, Eddie is fucking gorgeous, but whoever this man is, he had to have been born as a different species altogether… a sexy one I should’ve never indulged myself in.

My breath hitches when a soft, un-calloused hand brushes away the hair I’m so desperate to hide behind.

How odd it feels to be caressed by a hand that’s probably never seen a day of work in its life. Eddie has rough working hands. I should know, because I’ve memorized every callous and rough patch of skin on his palms, stitching them to memory over the years.

This man’s touch is like being caressed by pure satin.

He smells like leathery soap or lotion, and there’s a hint of sandalwood cologne wafting off his skin as well.

When he pulls away, I find myself sniffing the air, searching out the lingering scent of forbidden man I somehow came in contact with in the last twenty-four hours.

“Last night was bloody unreal,” he says in that seductive accent again.

He rakes his hand through his hair, this time exposing a sexy dragon tattoo that cascades down his left arm and shoots up and over his shoulder blade.

It’s all black and white, and looks Japanese inspired.

Part of me wants to ask him what it represents, but that seems too intimate, just like the gentle caress of his fingers that are rubbing soft circles on my thigh.

“It was?” I question nervously, moving out of his reach.

He must’ve found this funny, because the most seductive laugh belts out of him, making me want to move towards him instead of moving toward the door like I should.

“Too right it was, Amber. You were somethin’ else.”

Great, he remembers my name, but I have no idea who he is. What the hell, Amber?

“Do you want to get some brekkie? Bit of coffee, maybe?”

“I need to find my friends,” I say feebly as he rakes his hair back again, the strands tickling the oily muscles of his shoulders, exposing even more muscles I have yet to see.

Ah, that’s why I was sticking to him… the man’s covered in oil! I don’t know if I should be turned on by that, or grossed the fuck out.

He stands up and stretches, and my eyes immediately move to his torso, following the happy trail all the way to Happy Land.

I never could understand why women call that sexy line of a man’s groin the “V”, but the second he moves, showing off his washboard stomach and that specific letter jutting to his erection, I know the only thing it can stand for is victory.

Because any woman lucky enough to find herself in this man’s bed just achieved the ultimate sexual victory.

Apparently, that girl is me. And I don’t remember a goddamn thing about it.

I swear that God must’ve put this man on Earth just to destroy my relationship with Eddie. Right when we were starting to get on better terms again.

“I’d like to get to know you better. What d’you reckon? Feel like a sit down with me for a feed before you run off?”

Damn, he’s nice too? But what the fuck is he saying?

You really know how to pick them, Amber.

Nice… sexy… and he has a fucking Australian accent. You won the Las Vegas lottery without even batting a goddam eyelash. Might as well indulge in your winnings, whore, because you definitely won’t have a fiancé when you get home.

Shaking the intrusive thoughts away, I close my eyes so I don’t look at him. I’m unbelievably attracted to him, which I shouldn’t be. Not while being engaged.

“I really need to get going.”

“Alright then, I’ll have a quick shower, and I’ll walk you out proper. Don’t want you sneakin’ off like a thief in the night, yeah?”

I nod as he leans in and kisses me lightly on my lips.

My eyes widen, and I jerk back like a frightened girl experiencing a boy’s lips for the first time.

“Back in a tick.”

The second his back is turned, I’m wiping his kiss away, or maybe it’s the saliva that’s suddenly appeared at the corners of my mouth as I watch his ass shimmy all the way to the bathroom.

He even struts like an Adonis.

He briefly looks over his shoulder and grins before disappearing behind the bathroom door.

What the hell did I just do?

I know we had sex… you just know when you have sex with someone. My body is practically screaming for him to come back to bed, which means he must’ve been amazing. But can I remember doing the forbidden samba with the sexy Australian? Of course not.

Was I even good?

Was he good?

God, what was I thinking?

Well, I wasn’t thinking! I was drunk as hell. So drunk I can’t remember shit.