Biker B*tch Read online

  Of course, he picked that moment to turn over his shoulder and grin. “Enjoying the view?”

  She looked away, but a flush crept up her chest and into her face.

  “What’s wrong with it?” She managed to choke out the words through a very dry mouth. All the fluid in her body was busy in her panties.

  “Where are your tools?” He had the courtesy not to laugh when she almost tripped as she scrambled to the corner for a toolbox. She gave it to him, hoping her hands weren’t shaking too much. She stuffed them in the pockets of her coveralls to be sure.

  He flipped open the top of the steel case and got back to work. She used the opportunity to ogle his damn fine torso and ass. She wanted to get her fill and compose herself before he stood up and she had to wipe that smug look off his face with more harsh words.

  But what did they say about the “best-laid plans?” He tinkered with the thing for a few minutes and stood up with the auger spinning effortlessly. That pissed her off. He must have registered the pissed off look on her face instead of the bald lust.

  “You mad I fixed it when you couldn’t, Carrots?”

  “No.” The words came out more harshly than she intended, and she grabbed the wrench he was holding and tossed it in the toolbox. Unfortunately, the move brought her closer to him, and he took the opportunity to close even more space between them. Their bodies touched. She could feel his breath on her forehead. It was minty. Shit. She should move.

  “That’s not the kind of thanks I was hoping for.”

  She looked up, into his eyes. “You’re not going to get what you’re looking for from me. You should check with Roy.” The vineyard manager wasn’t going to give him what he had in mind either. She smiled up at him.

  He lifted an eyebrow. “Then why are you still standing so close?”

  He brushed the side of her face with his fingertip.

  Everything slowed down and the air between them was so thick it was like tissue connecting them to each other. She could no sooner move away from him than she could detach her own arm. For better or worse, he was a part of her. Always a breath away but miles from her at the same time.

  Because she’d wanted him for so fucking long, the moment he put his lips on hers again after all these years blasted through her like river rapids. It took her under. His lips were the only soft things about him. Yet they tore through all her misgivings and ripped her resistance to shreds.

  This wasn’t a soft, tentative kiss. He drank her in, gulped her down. She knew exactly where he was going with this: to bed or the closest flat surface. She had to clutch his upper arms to stay standing. He was so strong, stable. His taste invaded every part of her. His tongue demanded entry to her mouth, and she yielded instantly. But instead of taking, his tongue stroked hers as if it wanted to know her.

  “Gotta see you,” he said into her mouth. Before she could process the words, he’d unzipped her coveralls and she was almost naked to her waist. Then, he pulled the scarf and hair tie out of her hair and dug his fingers into her scalp. She mewled like a kitten.

  Her skin brushed against his; they were both a little sweaty, so they stuck together. The heat of his body was scorching. When he left her mouth, she sighed. But then his lips found a spot behind her ears that drew out a ragged sound. No man had ever made her words go absent. Not before him.

  Her fingers found the hair at the back of his neck and she pulled. He snarled against her skin. As retaliation for the hair pull, or just because he wanted to, he moved back a little, unhooked her bra, and tossed it across the room.

  “Damn, Carrots. You’re beautiful.” There was awe in his voice. No smooth lines. No faking it.

  She could feel her skin heat, and she raked her gaze over him. Could make a hobby out of touching him, pressing her body into his. She’d never felt like she wanted to rub herself all over a man like a cat. His erection, pressing into her belly through his jeans, was most definitely carved out of marble.

  He grunted and picked her up like she was the Sunday paper. She wrapped her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck to keep from falling. He walked them over to a wooden table in the middle of the room. While he carried her, his lips found hers again. He drove her absolutely crazy. This terrifying, exhilarating lust was going to rip her up like thorns.

  He laid her on a table and left her mouth. He turned his attention to her breasts; his mouth was a whisper all around her hardened nipples. She arched her back, trying to prompt him to suck, to do anything other than tease her with soft touches.

  He had the audacity to laugh. “Always in a rush. We’ve got all the time in the world. Let me taste you.”

  “Taste me faster.”

  He answered with a chuckle and a kiss to her breastbone that made goose bumps appear all over her body. She shivered and hoped he’d move lower. Damn, he felt good—taking her out of her head with his touch. She should shove him off her and make him stop. She couldn’t afford to get involved with someone who lived the life he did. No matter what he said about not being involved in crime, she knew that being a biker could get very dangerous, very fast. Wherever bikers went, the criminal element followed. But she wanted—needed—this moment in time with the boy she’d loved for as long as she could remember.

  For a moment, he stopped kissing her, devouring her, and looked into her eyes. He was just the same as she remembered, and there was still kindness to him. It was like they were in the old barn on graduation night, but this time he wanted her.

  She opened her mouth to say something when the door to the building swung open and slammed against the wall.

  “Ms. Clark?”

  “Shit,” she said. The last thing she needed was her vineyard manager seeing her making out with Travis when she was supposed to be working. He didn’t respect her before he caught her fucking on the job. She jackknifed off the table, throwing Travis off balance, and pulled on the arms of her coveralls. She’d find her bra later.

  “Just a second, Roy.”

  Travis was sitting on the floor shirtless, laughing at her. “Get up and put on a shirt.” Her voice came out as more of a hiss. He took his damned time. By the time he was standing–still sweaty—Roy had made his way over.

  She put on a smile that said Roy hadn’t caught them rolling around in the winery like randy teenagers. “What do you need?”

  He looked from her to Travis, probably noting her mussed hair and swollen mouth. “It can wait.”

  “No, he,” she said, pointing at Travis, “was just leaving.”

  Roy shrugged; he seemed inclined to let it go. “I gotta show you something.”

  “Alright. Let’s go.” She buried her hands in her pockets and followed Roy out of the building. When Travis gave her a pained look and followed, she stuck her tongue out at him.

  His stupid grin would follow her for the rest of the day.

  9

  Skyler wasn’t having much luck showing Michael a good time. He’d shown up on her doorstep an hour and a half ago and told her they were going out.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me.” He stared at the sign on the wine bar’s door. ‘Closed for a Private Party.’

  “Not surprised. There’re only two places in town, other than the wineries, that serve booze,” she said, “If you want, we can drive in to Santa Rosa.”

  “You can’t expect me to wait that long for a drink.”

  “We can go to D’s and get food. Maybe tri-tip and French fries will help?”

  “After the week I’ve had, it’s booze or dick. And I haven’t found any available dick in this town. Yet.”

  She looked around to make sure no one heard him. He turned to her and gave her a pointed look. “Where’s the other place to drink?”

  “I don’t want to go there,” she said.

  “Why not?”

  “It’s a biker bar. My dad used to hang out there.”

  “Those guys are all in prison.”

  “Doesn’t matter. There could be other Diablos t
here. Those guys are always marking their territory.”

  “Whatever. We’ll get one drink, and then we’ll leave.”

  “You’re going to make me do this, aren’t you?” Her shoulders tensed at the idea of going in.

  “I’m not making you do anything, sweetie. And I’m buying.”

  “And Travis will be there.” Maybe. Probably. Her breath caught just thinking about it.

  “Then we’re definitely going. At least one of us is getting laid.” He grabbed her arm and led her back to the car.

  This couldn't possibly end well. If they were lucky, Michael wouldn't get beat up for being gay. Of course, he didn’t seem to care. He was probably thrilled by the thought of all that raging testosterone and chrome. She guessed his recent billion-dollar IPO gave him a good amount of “don’t give a fuck.”

  Ed’s, the biker bar in question, was a Sebastopol institution. Her dad and his club used to hang out there. She used to do her homework at the bar some nights. Ed had made killer kiddie cocktails.

  On the drive over, Skyler remembered the party the Diablos had for Isaac when he patched in. It was the last time that she could remember Isaac and Travis having fun together. Once Isaac was truly in the club, he didn’t have time for anything but club business.

  Eight Harleys stood parked outside of Ed’s, along with plenty of cars and pickups. Michael’s Tesla stuck out like a sore thumb. She struggled to get out of the low-slung electric car.

  “We’re going to drink. Don’t look at me like I’m taking you to the gyno.” Michael touched his front pocket to be sure he didn’t leave his key fob in his car. He offered her his arm and she took it. He’d talked her into some truly ridiculous shoes, too.

  Just before they went in the bar, he looked her up and down. “Damn, girl. If I liked girl parts, I’d be all about yours.” He let go of her arm to pull open the door and slapped her ass.

  Her outfit didn’t really fit the vibe at Ed’s. The biker bar was a jeans and bitch boots kind of place. She’d worn it because she’d wanted to feel girly for a night out, but maybe she’d wanted to see Travis and have him look at her with desire.

  Plenty of locals milled around, well in their cups. It looked like a typical, rowdy Friday night at Ed’s. She got a lingering look from more than one guy.

  Music blared out of the old-fashioned jukebox, but as soon as she saw Travis at the bar with Chevy Camden, her attention narrowed down to him. He leaned up against the bar with his fingers around the top of a beer bottle. Both he and Chevy, along with a few other guys, were wearing cuts. Travis wore a black T-shirt under his cut, jeans, and biker boots. His hair was tucked behind his ears.

  He looked over at her and grinned. She felt hot and barely registered Michael’s low whistle. He leaned over and whispered into her ear. “He’s looking at you like you’re dinner.”

  Skyler squared her shoulders and walked over. Best to get any awkwardness out of the way.

  He jerked his chin at her and separated from his buddies. “Slumming it tonight, Carrots?”

  “Thanks for your help yesterday. You didn’t have to do that.” She hesitated because she didn’t want to encourage him. “You won’t have to do it again.”

  He just gave her one of his lazy smiles, the kind that made her want to punch at him with a snarky comment. She shifted in her ridiculous heels and opened her mouth.

  In the nick of time, before she said anything dumb, Michael grabbed her arm and pulled her over to the other end of the bar—out of Travis’s line of sight. “I have a feeling we’re going to need a lot of drinks for this.”

  She rolled her eyes. “For what?”

  He peered over at Travis’s end of the bar. “The two of you are going to have dirty sex. Tonight.”

  “I am not having dirty sex with Abner Travis.” She must have said that a little too loudly; several conversations around them ended.

  Michael put a vodka and soda in front of her and gave her a side-eye. “Sure. Maybe he’s super vanilla. Maybe he’s a ‘missionary only’ kind of guy. But I wouldn’t put money on it.”

  Michael chose a table that gave her a direct sight line to Travis. She didn’t recognize the guys there with him and Chevy. They all wore Heaven’s Sinners cuts, though. And she didn’t miss that all the guys deferred to Travis. He stood there looking like the master of all he surveyed.

  Her dad’s club had always acted like it owned the town, too. Eventually, her dad’s value to the club turned into power—absolute power—and like the old saying, it corrupted her father and turned him into someone she didn’t recognize. And then the state investigated his prescription-writing habits and uncovered the whole racket.

  So, as much as she admired Travis’s ease, the way he moved like he had all the time in the world, she couldn’t let herself fall under his spell. She couldn’t trust he wouldn’t decide riding for fun wouldn’t turn into something dark and sinister. After all, the fact was that building custom bikes for fun could serve as a cover for running guns or drugs. Nope.

  With that thought, she turned away from him. Michael’s eyes held mischief. “Another drink? You look all hot and bothered.”

  “Shut up.”

  “Aw, don’t be like that.” He tugged her close to him and kissed her forehead. He grabbed her shoulders. “You’re over-thinking this. You two have chemistry. Everyone in the bar can see it.” He motioned to a table near the jukebox. “Like the girl over there. She’s been looking at you two looking at each other since we walked in.”

  Skyler looked over and saw Ginger Hill approach. “Oh, fuck.”

  Michael rubbed his hands together. “I smell drama.”

  “You would,” she said, still hoping Ginger wouldn’t stop for a chat.

  Ginger had always hated her. She and her mom had lived over in the trailer park, and she guessed Ginger always thought she had things so good because Skyler’s dad was the town doctor and they always had enough money.

  “So, the rumors are true. The Diablos Santos’s princess is back. The witch really isn’t dead.” Ginger smiled at her own dumb joke. Skyler was loosening up to a nickname coming from Travis, but not from a mean girl who hadn’t left high school behind.

  “No one’s dropped a house on me yet.”

  “Shame.” Ginger ran a hand over her cotton candy pink hair, which she’d brushed into pin-up waves. Her breasts were straining the fibers of a tube top. Her arms were covered in full-sleeve tattoos.

  “Do we have to do this?” Skyler drained the rest of her vodka soda.

  Ginger shook her head. “Do what?”

  “Be shitty to each other?” She didn’t want to relive high school at this bar tonight.

  Something that looked like remorse registered on Ginger’s face. “We don’t have to do that. I was actually coming over to apologize.”

  “For what?”

  “Being a bitch to you in high school. At graduation.” She paused and looked at her hands. “I was mean, and you didn’t deserve it. But I had a lot of my own shit to deal with.”

  Color Skyler shocked and confused. Apparently, they’d all grown up in the last decade. “Th—thank you.”

  “So, are you going to hop on the hottest piece of dick in town, or what?”

  “Who?”

  Ginger pointed a finger at Travis, and Skyler connected the dots.

  “Listen, I don’t want him.”

  Ginger rolled her eyes. “That’s why you’ve been eye-fucking him for the last fifteen minutes. You guys should just do it. I highly recommend it. Fucking him a few times might even be enough to pull that stick out of your ass.”

  “It’s really not—we’re really not a thing.”

  “No, he and I were never really a thing. Because you and him were always a thing.” She shrugged and threw a smirk at Skyler and a wink at Michael that would have melted a man who liked women. “You might as well reap the fruits of my labors at making him good in bed if I’m not going to get to use him for sex anymore.”

  S
kyler was conflicted. If she wasn’t the right kind of girl for Travis, Ginger definitely was. They would look gorgeous together, and her whole vibe kind of went with biker. But she couldn’t deny how relieved she felt that—even if he and Ginger had been together—they hadn’t been serious, and they weren’t together now.

  But she felt a pang of regret, too. She’d been so busy thinking about how Travis was bad for her that she hadn’t stopped to think about how she was bad for Travis. Maybe he didn’t want to get mixed up with the likes of her.

  Ginger walked back over to her gaggle of friends, a lot of faces Skyler recognized. And she felt just like she was in high school, like they were talking about her.

  For all her crassness, maybe Ginger had a point. Maybe she and Travis were inevitable, and the thought panicked her—she felt as though the walls were closing in on her. She’d run away from any man who could be something real, sticking to players and fuckboys. Suddenly, it came crashing down on her that it was all Travis. He’d rejected her, so she’d rejected everyone. Her father had left her all alone, so she left men alone before she could get too attached. The idea that the thing between her and Travis was bearing down on her made her stomach flip and dance. She wanted to run, but she wouldn’t let this whole room of people see her that way.

  She could only think of one way to disabuse Ginger—hell, the whole town—of the notion that she was here for Travis.

  She grabbed Michael’s shirt and leaned into him. His eyes widened in shock. “Your lips look dry, lovey. Let me fix that for you.”

  Before he could pull away, she kissed him. Michael had great lips, and, as she brushed hers over his, she noted that he was a fantastic kisser. But that wasn’t what this was about. This was about making sure everyone knew that she wasn’t here for Travis, despite the fact that she’d made puppy dogs eyes at him for years.

  She wasn’t expecting Michael to play along but, good friend that he was, he did. When they pulled apart, laughter replaced the shock on his face. “I think you’re going to get a spanking.”