Chapter Five #2
I can’t believe Raven is agreeing with him. Anything else I was about to say is cut off when he puts a hand on my shoulder and turns me toward the door.
“Let’s go, little villain.”
“Little what?” I try to shake him off.
Katrina is staring at where his hand is on my lower back. That is a whole mess of a situation I don’t want to get involved in.
Outside I stomp across the parking lot, not even bothering to check if those two idiots are out here.
The roar of a motorcycle makes me jump and slap my hand to my chest. When I turn, Rebel isn’t trying to hide his amusement. The guy on the bike looks at us as if he’s not sure what is going on.
“Fuck you,” I snap and whirl away to cross the street.
The infuriating bastard follows me behind the wall that leads to the annex. He’s light-footed for a big, muscled and sexy... Stop it.
I turn when we’re halfway along the path. He’s closer than I realized, but pulls up before we crash into one another. I scowl at him.
“All safe, you can leave.”
“Open the door, go inside, then I’ll leave.”
“I can take care of myself.”
He folds his arms. Damn, I can’t help the need that grows inside of me every time he is near. I want to argue with him or myself. Both of us need a stern talking to.
“Oh wait, except when the asshole getting in my face pulls a gun.”
“You pulled your mace first.”
“I’m a woman, alone, and you grabbed me.”
“You were sneaking around in the dark. I thought you were someone else.”
Well, that is new information. Who did he think I was? It explains why he lunged at me and why he pulled the gun.
“Go inside and lock your damn door.”
Here behind the wall, the noise from the bar and the street is dulled, and the church is quiet. No one knows we’re back here.
There is more to this than he is letting on. Something has him worried, more than the idiot at the bar.
Both Raven and Marisol have said the MC keeps their business close to their chests, I will not get anything out of him, but I want to know if whatever he is shielding me from is going to hurt Colt and the church.
“Go,” he says, moving closer still.
He smells of leather and wood smoke. It’s a heady, intoxicating combination. Maybe I’ve had too much to drink.
“I was handling it, you know.”
He stares, but something in his features softens. “Asking him to apologize was pointless.”
“Men like him need to be told when they’re in the wrong.”
“You think he would have walked away after apologizing and never been a prick to a woman again?”
“Of course not. Men like that can’t change.”
“Then what good does antagonizing him do?”
“If every woman sits back and takes it, we might as well give up altogether. I will always be the voice that stands up to dickheads like that.”
“No matter the consequences.”
“I’m not an idiot, I wouldn’t do it alone in an alleyway with a strange man…” I trail off, looking into his face.
We’re alone where no one can see us, in an alleyway of sorts. I’m not afraid of him. Not even after what happened when we met.
He frowns, realizing what I’m thinking. His expression mellows for about a tenth of a second, then he shakes his head as if he is exasperated.
“Go inside.” When he moves toward me, I stand my ground. “You can’t help yourself, can you?”
“Did we not just establish I don’t like being pushed around by men?”
“Believe me, little villain, if I wanted to push you around, I’m pretty sure you’d like it.”
“So full of yourself. I don’t know what any woman sees in you,” I mutter.
It doesn’t come out as forceful as I planned. In fact, my whole body is turning into a treacherous little bitch, wondering what he means by that.
“Why do you keep calling me that?” I ask, poising myself not to sound weak at his dirty charm.
He leans down so his face is closer to mine, and my pulse ratchets into the stratosphere, my heart beating dangerously fast.
“I have shit to do. Go inside.”
Ugh, asshole.
“You’re the one on some masculine protector power trip. Go do your shit and stop trying to undermine me.” I give him a filthy look then go to the door, letting myself in.
I don’t flip him off or make any other comments, in fact, I don’t even look at him. Because despite my ire and the need to kick him in the nuts, I’m turned on and do not want to give him the satisfaction of seeing that.
I leave the lights off and stand by the door, then peek through the blinds. He is still there, but his back is to the door and he has taken out his phone. Being the nosy bitch I am, I unlatch the window and open it to listen to what he is saying.
“He comes in again, you call me…. Because I’m going to break his face, that’s why.”
His voice gets quieter as he disappears around the corner. I’m not sure how to feel about that. I was going to make the asshole pay with words. He is threatening violence. Why am I surprised?
Pressing my back against the door, I close my eyes. My heart is pumping wildly and that pulse is mirrored between my legs, a low, tight pull I haven’t felt in a long time.
Damn it. I will not be turned on by the biker threatening to beat up a man who called me a bitch.
No more going into that bar. I’m here to paint, be with my family, and regroup.
“He’s not even that hot.”
I relock the window, make sure the bolt is pulled on the front door, then head to the bathroom, turn on the shower and strip off my clothes.
I’ve been on the go all day and the alcohol hasn’t helped my better judgment skills, which is why my hand trails over my breasts and down across my stomach.
My eyes close as I picture him standing behind me, imagining his hands moving across my wet skin, pinching my nipple and toying with my clit.
The water is hot, the cubicle filling with steam, but the tiles are cold on my back when I lean against them, making me hiss as I push a finger inside myself. Squeezing my eyes tight, I picture his face and his body and those big, veiny arms of his, pulling me against him.
My fingers move faster, I tug on my nipple and bite my lip to keep from crying out too loud. This room backs onto a part of the church, I’m not sure where, but I’m not taking any chances.
Nothing can hold back the orgasm as I imagine him grabbing my hips, lifting me like I weigh nothing and thrusting his long hard cock into me.
“Oh, shit.” My core clenches around my fingers, and bliss rolls through my body in waves. My hand slaps against the shower door to keep me upright. My back bows, water rushes over the top of my head, splitting like a waterfall all around me.
I come back to my body and give myself a quick once-over with some soap. When I step out of the shower, I check my reflection, judging myself for that show of weakness.
At least I got rid of all the crucifixes and pictures of Jesus’ relatives. God isn’t watching me in here.
Masturbating in a church building, over a devil in leather.
“I’m going to hell.”