Chapter Seventeen
McKayla
The stack of papers spread across the bed looked like the ramblings of lunatics at this point.
Old newspaper articles. Police reports. Notes Prime had written down after talking to people around town. A grainy photo of Caleb Token smiling beside a boat dock twenty-three years ago before he ended up dead in the lake.
Twenty-three years.
I sat cross-legged in the middle of the bed with one article in my hand and another spread across my thigh while the laptop glowed beside me. My head still hurt if I focused too long, but I ignored it because there had to be something here.
Something everyone was missing.
Caleb Token drowned during a party near the lake. Bernice had been there. Shay’s mom had been there. A handful of old Kings of Anarchy members had been there. But none of the men currently in the clubhouse had even been patched in back then.
So why were they paying for it now?
Why had Bernice been murdered?
Why had Bob nearly been killed?
Why was my sister somehow tangled in the middle of all of this?
I rubbed both hands down my face hard enough to make my temples ache. “Do psychos ever make sense?” I muttered.
The bedroom door opened. I glanced up to see Push step inside before shutting the door quietly behind him. The second my eyes landed on him; my brain short-circuited straight out of investigation mode.
Dark jeans hanging low on his hips. Black T-shirt stretched across his chest with his cut over it. Tattoos disappearing beneath his sleeves. Slightly messy dark hair like he’d run his hands through it ten times already tonight.
He looked tired, dangerous, and unfairly attractive.
“Time to take the PI hat off, baby,” he said.
I opened my mouth to argue, but he was already moving toward me. He took the papers from my hands before I could stop him and stacked them neatly together.
“Push-”
“You’ve been staring at this shit for hours.”
“There has to be something more I’m not seeing.”
“You can try again tomorrow.”
He carried the papers to the dresser and dropped them there before shrugging out of his leather cut. The heavy material landed across the desk chair with a soft thud.
My eyes tracked every movement.
Push toed off his boots next and kicked them toward the wall before hooking his fingers into the collar of his shirt and dragging it over his head.
Sweet Jesus.
I forgot every single thing I’d been thinking about.
His body was all hard muscle and tattooed skin. Ink wrapped over his chest and shoulders before disappearing down his arms. The soft yellow light from the bedside lamp caught over every sharp line of him.
I stared openly.
Push tossed the shirt into the corner and studied me sitting frozen on the bed. “You gonna get ready for bed?”
I flicked my hand toward him lazily. “I’m enjoying the show.”
A low laugh rumbled out of him as he shook his head. Then his hands went to the button of his jeans. I sat up straighter immediately and his mouth twitched.
“Oh no,” I said. “Don’t stop now.”
Push paused dramatically.
“Keep going,” I ordered.
He turned toward me fully and stalked to the edge of the bed. “I think this needs to be fairer.”
I tilted my head innocently. “What exactly are you suggesting?”
His gaze dropped to my shirt. “Shirt, baby.”
I didn’t hesitate. Not even a little.
I grabbed the hem of my shirt and pulled it over my head before tossing it toward the floor beside his. His eyes darkened instantly as they landed on my bra-covered chest.
“Better?” I asked softly. “Though I think looking at you is much better.”
Push’s jaw flexed. God, I loved doing that to him.
I moved onto my knees and crawled toward the edge of the bed. He stepped closer immediately like he couldn’t help himself.
Good, because I couldn’t either.
The second he reached me; his hands gripped my waist and lifted me effortlessly into his arms. I wrapped my legs around his waist automatically while his mouth crashed into mine hard enough to steal my breath.
The kiss turned deep instantly.
Hungry.
Like he’d been holding himself back too damn long.
A small sound escaped me as my fingers slid into his hair. His hands moved over my back before one of them unclasped my bra with ridiculous ease.
I pulled back just enough to blink at him. “That was suspiciously smooth.”
His mouth brushed mine again. “Got skills.”
“Clearly.”
He dragged the straps down my arms before tossing the bra somewhere behind him. Then he looked down between us and groaned low in his throat. “Yeah,” he muttered roughly. “I’ve definitely got the better view now.”
I laughed softly before his mouth found mine again.
Every kiss felt hotter than the last one.
His tongue slid against mine while his hands moved over my bare skin like he was memorizing me. I could feel the heat of him through his jeans and the hard length pressing against me made my stomach tighten.
God. This man.
Somewhere in the back of my mind, I knew this whole situation was insane, and yet here I was wrapped around a biker in the middle of his clubhouse bedroom feeling more alive than I had in months.
Push kissed down my throat slowly while lowering me back onto the mattress. My hands slid over his shoulders and chest, tracing tattoos and hard muscle while he hovered over me.
Then he stood.
My breath caught.
He pushed his jeans down slowly; eyes locked on mine the entire time. And this time? The underwear went too.
Holy hell.
I’d felt him pressed against me before. Hard and heavy through denim and boxer briefs, but actually seeing him was an entirely different problem.
A very good problem.
My mouth went dry and Push noticed immediately.
The smug bastard.
He stepped closer to the bed while I hurried to shove my shorts down my legs before kicking them off completely.
His eyes dragged over my body slowly enough to make heat curl low in my stomach.
“Jesus,” he muttered. “Better than everything I imagined.”
A laugh slipped out of me. “You’ve been thinking about me, huh?”
“Fuck yeah,” he growled.
The rough honesty of it made my pulse jump.
He climbed onto the bed with me then, covering my body with his and kissing me hard enough to make me forget my own name.
Hands went everywhere. Skin against skin.
His weight pressed me into the mattress while his mouth moved over mine, slow and deep. I couldn’t stop touching him. My hands slid over his shoulders, his back, his chest. Every inch of him felt solid.
Safe.
Push groaned softly when my hand wrapped around his rock-hard dick. The sound shot straight through me.
“McKayla,” he muttered against my mouth.
I stroked him slowly, loving the way his breathing roughened immediately.
His forehead pressed against mine while his fingers slid down my stomach and between my thighs.
I gasped. “Oh my God.”
“That good?” he murmured.
“Don’t get cocky.”
His fingers circled my clit slowly, deliberately, while his mouth worked over my throat. Heat coiled tighter and tighter inside me until I was arching against him helplessly.
Every touch felt electric.
His name kept slipping from my mouth without me meaning to. “Push…”
“Yeah, baby.”
The rough praise mixed with the movement of his fingers sent me straight over the edge. Pleasure crashed through me hard enough to make my thighs shake.
I buried my face against his shoulder while he worked me through it, kissing the side of my head and muttering something low I couldn’t even process because my brain had basically melted.
When I finally caught my breath again, his eyes met mine, dark and focused. Like he was holding himself together by a thread.
“You good?” he asked roughly.
I laughed breathlessly. “I think I just saw God.”
That finally made him grin. Then he kissed me again while shifting between my legs. The moment he pushed into me, we both groaned.
Slow at first.
Careful.
But the second my nails dug into his shoulders, something in him snapped. Push moved harder. Deeper.
The bed creaked beneath us while our breathing filled the room. It wasn’t soft or sweet. It was hungry.
Hot.
The kind of sex that made you forget every bad thing outside the room existed for a little while.
I wrapped my legs tighter around him while his mouth moved against mine and down my neck. He kept saying my name low and rough like it meant something. And maybe it did.
That thought should’ve scared me. Instead, warmth spread through my chest. Because somehow, impossibly, I felt safe with him.
Safe with a biker on a haunted island in the middle of a murder investigation.
My life had officially lost its damn mind.
Push’s hand slid into my hair while he kissed me hard enough to steal every thought from my head again.
The pressure inside me built fast. “So close,” I whispered.
“Come for me, baby.” That deep rough voice destroyed whatever control I had left.
Pleasure ripped through me again, hard enough to make me cry out his name. Push followed right after me with a low groan against my throat before collapsing over me breathing hard. For a second neither of us moved.
Just breathing.
Hearts pounding.
Then he gathered me against him and rolled onto his back, pulling me up against his chest like I belonged there. I traced lazy circles over the tattoos on his chest while trying to remember how oxygen worked. Finally I looked up at him. “So… should I fill out a customer satisfaction survey or?”
Push barked out a laugh. “There’s the smart mouth again.”
“I can’t help it.”
“Wouldn’t want you to.”
I smiled against his chest before the reality of everything slowly crept back in around the edges. My fingers stilled slightly against him. “I shouldn’t feel this good right now.”
Push’s hand slid through my hair before he pressed a kiss to the top of my head. “You’re doing everything you can to find her. You’re allowed a minute to breathe, baby.”
Simple, and somehow exactly what I needed.
I curled closer against him while exhaustion finally started pulling at me.
The room was warm, Push’s arm stayed tight around me, and for the first time since Erin disappeared, my chest didn’t feel tight with panic.
I should’ve felt guilty for that. Maybe I did a little. But mostly? Mostly, I just felt safe. And wrapped in Push’s arms, I fell asleep before I could think too hard about what that meant.