Chapter 3 - Beast
I check my watch for the third time in as many minutes as I approach Jenny's door. Five twenty-eight. Not too early, not too late.
I've never been nervous about a date before, and this isn't even a real one, yet my palms are sweating like I'm sixteen again. I wipe them on my jeans before knocking.
My usual attire—jeans, boots, Savage Riders cut—has been modified for tonight. I've swapped the cut for a clean black button-down shirt that feels too tight across my shoulders. No visible weapons, though the knife in my boot is non-negotiable. I even trimmed my beard more than usual.
All for a dinner that's based on a lie.
I knock three times, the sound echoing in the empty hallway above the clubhouse. Music and voices drift up from below, the usual Friday night gathering getting started early. I'd hoped to slip out unnoticed, but the odds of that happening in a building full of nosy bikers are slim to none.
The door swings open, and my brain short-circuits.
Jenny stands before me in a black dress that hugs every curve of her body like it was painted on.
The hemline stops mid-thigh, revealing legs that are thick and strong and perfect.
The neckline dips just low enough to hint at cleavage without showing too much.
Her brown hair falls in loose waves around her shoulders, and her green eyes are lined with something that makes them look bigger, brighter.
I blink twice, convinced I'm hallucinating.
"Beast?" she prompts, and I realize I've been staring without speaking for too long.
"You look..." Words fail me, which isn't unusual, but now it's inconvenient. "Aren't you going to be cold?"
Smooth, Murphy. Real smooth.
Jenny's face falls slightly, and she glances down at herself. "Is it too much? I wasn't sure what to wear, and this is the only nice dress I have, but I can change—"
"No," I say quickly, finding my voice. "You look beautiful. Really beautiful. I just meant it's forty degrees outside, and my bike isn't the warmest ride."
Her smile returns, a slight flush rising to her cheeks. "Oh. I have a jacket. And, um, thank you."
"You're welcome." I shift my weight, suddenly aware of how small the doorway is, how close we're standing. "Ready to go?"
Jenny nods and turns to grab a leather jacket from a hook by the door. It's well-worn but suits her somehow. She slips it on, and the combination of the elegant dress with the beat-up jacket makes my cock strain against my briefs. She looks fucking incredible.
"All set." She steps out into the hallway, pulling the door closed behind her.
I offer her my arm without thinking, and she hesitates for just a moment before slipping her hand into the crook of my elbow. Her fingers are warm through the fabric of my shirt.
"So," she says as we walk toward the stairs, "any last-minute details I should know about? Allergies? Family drama? Ex-girlfriends who might show up?"
"No allergies except penicillin. No family besides my mom. And no exes, not the kind that would show up for dinner anyway." I guide her toward the staircase that leads down to the main floor of the clubhouse.
"No exes at all?" She sounds skeptical.
"I don't do relationships, remember? That's why we're in this mess." I lower my voice as we reach the top of the stairs. "Mom's name is Elaine. She'll ask about your job, probably about your family too. She's direct but not mean about it."
Jenny nods, taking in the information. "Got it. And if she asks how we got together?"
"Like I said yesterday, keep it simple, close to the truth. We met when you came to town with Tank. Hit it off. Been seeing each other for a few days."
"Still not very romantic," she says, repeating her comment from yesterday. "Women like stories, Beast. Details."
I sigh. "Fine. I noticed you the moment you walked in with Tank. Couldn't take my eyes off you. Asked you out for coffee after Tank was distracted with Amelia. You said yes because of my charming personality."
Jenny snorts. "Right. Because 'charming' is the first word that comes to mind when people describe you."
"What would you say, then?" I ask, genuinely curious.
She considers this as we start down the stairs. "Intimidating. Intense." She pauses. "Solid."
"Solid?" I repeat.
"Yeah. Like, dependable. You seem like the kind of man who does what he says he'll do."
"That's...actually pretty accurate."
We're halfway down the stairs when the conversations below start to die down. I glance over the railing to see several club members staring up at us, expressions ranging from shock to amusement.
Steel raises his eyebrows but says nothing. Shadow, ever observant, just gives a slight nod. Rage's mouth is hanging open like he's watching a UFO land. And Torch, that asshole, has a shit-eating grin spreading across his face.
"Well, well," Torch calls up, loud enough for everyone to hear. "Look who's all dressed up. Should we expect a fire hazard when Tank finds out? Things are about to burn up!"
A few chuckles ripple through the room. I fix Torch with my best enforcer glare, the one that usually makes prospects piss themselves, but he just winks.
"Ignore him," I mutter to Jenny.
But she surprises me by calling back, "Better grab a fire extinguisher then, because it's none of your business who I date."
The room erupts in "oohs" and laughter. Torch clutches his chest like he's been wounded, but his grin only widens. "She's got a mouth on her, Beast! Good luck with that!"
I feel Jenny stiffen beside me, and I squeeze her arm gently. "He means it as a compliment," I assure her quietly. "They're just surprised to see me with anyone, let alone someone like you."
"Someone like me?" she asks as we reach the bottom of the stairs and navigate through the now-silent room of bikers.
"Someone beautiful," I say simply. "Someone who talks back."
Her fingers tighten on my arm, and I can't tell if it's from pleasure or discomfort at being the center of attention. Either way, I pick up our pace slightly, eager to get out of the clubhouse before more comments can be made.
As we reach the door, I hear Rookie whisper too loudly to Chaos, "Tank's gonna murder him."
Jenny must hear it too, because she mutters under her breath, "My brother doesn't control who I see."
We step outside into the crisp evening air, and I can feel her relax slightly once we're away from the staring eyes.
"Sorry about that," I say, leading her toward my bike parked near the entrance. "They're also not used to seeing me with a woman outside of... well..."
"Your bedroom?" she supplies, and I wince at the bluntness.
"Yeah."
We reach my Harley, a custom black Road King with matte finish and reinforced suspension to handle my size. I grab the spare helmet from the saddlebag. I've never had a passenger before, but King insists we all carry an extra helmet and offer it to her.
"Ever ridden before?" I ask.
Jenny takes the helmet, turning it over in her hands. "No. Tank never let me near his bike. Said they were too dangerous."
Of course he did. Tank's protectiveness of Jenny borders on obsession sometimes. Not that I can blame him. Their father was a controlling bastard who messed them both up in different ways.
"It's easy," I say, mounting the bike and stabilizing it between my thighs. "Helmet on, get on behind me, arms around my waist, feet on the pegs. When I lean, you lean with me. Don't fight the bike."
She nods, slipping the helmet over her head. I reach out to adjust the strap for her, my fingers brushing against the soft skin of her neck. She shivers slightly, and I pull back quickly.
"Cold already?" I ask, though I suspect that's not the reason.
"A little," she admits, and I'm not sure if she's lying or not.
I wait as she slowly swings her leg over the seat behind me, her dress riding up even higher in the process. I force my eyes forward, focusing on the handlebars instead of the warm body settling in behind me.
"Like this?" she asks, her arms wrapping hesitantly around my waist.
"Tighter," I instruct. "You don't want to fall off."
Her arms tighten, her chest pressing against my back, thighs squeezing mine through the denim. Heat floods my body despite the cool evening air.
This was a terrible idea.
"Ready?" I manage to ask, starting the engine without waiting for her response. The bike roars to life between our legs, vibrating in a way that's never felt quite this... intimate before.
I feel her nod against my back, and I pull out of the clubhouse lot, her arms clutching tighter as we accelerate onto the main road.
It's a fifteen-minute ride to my mother's house, fifteen minutes of Jenny pressed against me, her thighs squeezing mine when we take turns, her breath warm on my neck when she adjusts her position. Fifteen minutes of pure torture.
By the time we pull up to my mother's neat little house, I'm wound so tight I could snap. I cut the engine and feel Jenny's arms slowly unwrap from around my waist, her body pulling away from mine as she dismounts.
I exhale slowly, giving myself a moment before swinging my leg over, adjusting my cock, which is strained against my jeans, and standing beside her. She removes the helmet, and her hair tumbles free, slightly mussed from the ride. The sight does nothing to calm the heat rushing south.
"That was..." She pauses, her cheeks flushed, eyes bright. "Exhilarating."
I clear my throat. "Yeah, it can be."
She hands me the helmet, and our fingers brush. I nearly drop it.
"You okay?" she asks, looking up at me with concern.
"Fine," I lie. "Just... thinking about dinner."
"Nervous?" A teasing smile plays at her lips. "The big bad Beast, scared of a little family dinner?"
"Terrified," I admit, surprising both of us with my honesty. "My mom has a way of seeing through bullshit."
Jenny's smile softens. "Don't worry. I'm a good actress. By the end of the night, she'll be convinced we're madly in love."
"Ready?" I ask, ignoring what she just said, and secure the helmets, then offer my arm again.
Jenny takes it, her grip firmer this time. "Ready."
We walk up the path to my mother's front door, the smell of pot roast wafting through the evening air. I can see the curtains twitch in the front window. Mom's been watching for us.
Before I can even knock, the door swings open, and my mother stands there beaming, her eyes immediately fixing on Jenny.
"You must be Jenny," she says warmly. "I'm Elaine. Come in, come in! Dinner's almost ready."
As we step across the threshold, my mother catches my eye over Jenny's shoulder and mouths silently, "She's beautiful!"
I can only nod in agreement, because that, at least, isn't a lie.