CHAPTER 17
LARA
I’m almost reluctant when we pull up in front of Bunz Out.
I enjoyed riding on the back of Playboy’s bike far too much.
While I was absolutely terrified at first, the feeling quickly melted into a rush of freedom.
If Vanessa feels the same way about it, I’m not going to be able to keep her off a damn bike.
She’ll be relentless. And she’ll spend her time negotiating getting rides with more than half the brothers of the SOMC. I hope they’re ready to be added to her ride roster because I can already hear her asking me for a calendar so she can keep everything straight.
For a moment, we just idle behind my bakery. Neither of us say anything. I squeeze his waist and then let go. He cuts the motor just as I climb off and awkwardly unbuckle the helmet.
“That was fun,” I gush. “The motorcycle part,” I’m quick to add, “not the drama at the bar. My nights out don’t usually get that exciting.”
“You handled yourself really well,” Playboy praises me with a look of appreciation on his face. “I’m glad you liked riding. Can I take you out again sometime?”
I feel my cheeks heat and look away. Figuring deflection is the best course of action, I clear my throat and tease, “I’m not sure you’ll get the chance.
If Vanessa enjoyed her ride with Rumble half as much as I did, she’s going to be incorrigible.
Expect everyone to get roped in and for her to treat the clubhouse like a stable to feed her riding addiction. ”
The chuckle that comes out of him is a low rumble. My nipples pebble into hard peaks from hearing the sound.
Sudden heat surges through me and it makes me reckless. “Do you want to come up?”
When the words leave my mouth, Playboy freezes in place. The second stretch into some measure of time I’ve never experienced before—agonizingly endless.
Holy shit, he’s not going to say yes. He’s about to turn me down.
It’s the regret in his eyes as he looks at me. I can see it so damn clearly. Regret and hesitation.
He doesn’t want me.
My heart clenches at the realization and I have to shut my eyes for a moment to get myself under control. Controlling my breathing takes everything in me for about thirty seconds.
Then my eyes open again and I plaster a fake smile on my face. “Never mind. It’s been a long day, and I need to call Rumble so he can bring Vanessa home.”
I take a step back and Playboy is off his bike and in my personal space before I know he’s even moving. How does a man his size move so fucking fast?
“Were you bitten by a mutant spider or something?” I huff, “Slow your ass down.”
What the fuck was I even thinking inviting him upstairs? My palms are sweating. When I try to take a step back, Playboy’s hand lands on my hip. He doesn’t hold me in place, not really.
But his touch tells me that he would rather me not move.
For some reason, I stay put.
I clear my throat, but my voice still comes out as a rasp, “I should call Rumble.”
“You need to understand why I hesitated,” I feel his words just as much as I hear them, the low resonance of them, “and it’s not because I don’t want you.
I want you,” each word is slow and holds weight.
“This matters to me, Lara, and I want to be very upfront about it with you. No games, no guessing, just the truth.”
My mouth opens and closes a few times. Honestly, I’m a little lost for words. And thoughts. And the certainty that I’m going to make a smart decision here.
His chocolate brown eyes find mine and hold. Every movement is slow and deliberate as he pulls his phone out of his pocket. Whoever he calls, he puts the phone on speaker immediately, the ringing of the phone filling the space around us.
“Hey boy,” Rumbles voice comes down the line when the call connects. “I gotta say, you’re missing out on a fun time. Dinner was delicious and the ladies made sundaes.” He huffs slightly, “I don’t know how they can stand to cover their scoops in all that junk. Just give me a scoop and a spoon.”
I cover my mouth to hide my giggle.
“How’s everything your end?” Rumble keeps going. “Did you go and spy on your woman? See what you needed to see?”
“Dad,” Playboy cuts in, his voice filled with admonishment and warning, “I’m with Lara right now.”
“Oh, hell,” Rumble mutters and I hear a giggle come from his side of the line.
He clears his throat. “If you’re calling to find out if there’s room for Vanessa to stay here for the night, then the answer is yes.
She can stay in your old room, or if she’d rather go to the guest rooms of any of the Old Ladies then that’ll work too.
You know we’ve got her and she’s always welcome. ”
Tears fill my eyes and I struggle to stop them from falling.
“Can you put us on speaker?” Playboy asks without me needing to prompt him.
Vanessa’s bright voice comes through, “Hi Mama. Hi Jettson. Did you have fun?” She giggles and then her voice drops like we both can’t hear her. “Did you know he was gonna show up, Mama?”
“I didn’t know and I was quite surprised.” I keep my eyes on him as I speak, my gaze full of challenge.
He doesn’t look the least bit ashamed.
Maybe he shouldn’t be.
“I want to stay here tonight. Can I?” Vanessa pauses and something tentative enters her voice, “Is it okay?”
My heart clenches. There haven’t been many nights when we haven’t been under the same roof since she was born.
“Are you sure?” I ask, not because I doubt her or Rumble, but just to confirm.
“Of course. Gramps said he’s going to show me how to rebuild a carburetor in his garage,” she throws it out there so damn casually.
Rumble makes a choked sound, his voice rough with affection and emotions, “From the mouths of babes.” After a beat he adds, to me, “She’s safe here. I swear it on my life.”
“I know,” I whisper. “As long as she wants to stay, I don’t have a problem with it.”
“If she changes her mind, I’ll call you and bring her home. No questions asked, no judgement,” Rumble promises.
My shoulders relax.
“Great,” Vanessa exclaims. “Gotta go. Love you, Mama.”
“Love you, too,” I murmur.
I’m not even sure she heard since the call ends at almost the same moment. Playboy chuckles and shakes his head.
“He’s going to be braggin’ about his for a long time,” his voice is filled with warmth.
“What do you mean?”
“Amongst the last generation’s leadership, he’s the first to have a grandbaby.”
I suck in a breath so sharp that I cough. Playboy smirks and steps closer to me. As if I wasn’t already having problems breathing? He just has to step closer?
His smokey scent wraps around me and my knees go a little weak.
Now that he’s on this whole tour to earn my forgiveness, and maybe more, I’m drawn to him even more. That doesn’t mean I’m not wary. I am, but I can’t deny how he’s changed.
It should count for something. Even a small something.
Just because it matters doesn’t mean I owe him absolution.
His voice drops an octave and becomes rougher, “I’ll come up; I’ll always come up. I’ll always come home. I’ll show up where, and when, you need me.” He takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. “I’ll believe you and put you first. I just want to make sure you know this matters to me.”
A lump forms in my throat and I have to swallow hard past it. “I’m not sure I can trust all of that.” I whisper, “All I can offer is an invitation to come up and stay this time.”
His fingers tighten on my hip and he nods once. “I’ll take what I can get,” his words are husky and laced with need.
When I turn and head inside, he’s right on my heels. I swear the man is panting.
The moment we’re inside my apartment; he kicks the door closed while grabbing me by the waist. He turns and presses me against the door and uses his hard body presses to hold me in place.
When he lifts me, I wrap my legs around his waist and use the door as leverage to arch my back and grind down against him.
I can already feel how hard he is for me. I’m incredibly curious about what this man is packing. I’d never admit it to anyone, but I know I’m curious as hell.
He presses me harder against the door, his hips moving in time with mine. The friction between us is fucking delicious and I rotate my hips in search of more.
Playboy’s lips find my neck. He kisses, licks, and nips up and down the column of my throat.
“The door at the end of the hall,” I moan the words while vaguely gesturing in that direction.
He pulls me away from the door and, with his long strides, gets us to my room quickly. I’m in awe when he carries me like I weigh nothing.
With his face buried in the crook of my neck, his voice breaks slightly when he asks, “Are you sure, Cupcake?”
“Stop talking and fuck me already,” my voice is filled with a challenge he won’t be able to turn down.
“Yes, ma’am,” he drawls.
He sets me back on my feet long enough to strip me, which he does with shaking hands and jerky movements. My pussy is fucking soaked by the time he gently lays me out on the bed.
I lock my eyes on him as he stands at the edge of the bed and reaches back to pull his shirt off. The way his arms flex with the movement has me clenching my thighs together.
As he reaches for his belt, I’m damn near close to drooling. Playboy’s torso is sexy as hell, all cut lines and swirling ink. The clinking of the buckle of his belt is loud in the quiet of the room.
In one swift movement, he pushes his jeans and whatever undergarment he prefers down over his hips. He keeps pushing them down his thighs and kicks them aside after toeing off his boots. When he stands up, his cock bobs and my mouth falls open.
Talk about proportional to the man itself. Fucking, thankfully. That would have been a crime against nature if it weren’t the case.
But that’s not what has me staring at Playboy’s cock like it’s an endangered species and needs to be on a registry somewhere.
It’s the piercings.
Multiple piercings.