Chapter 4

Quinn

 

The party was going strong around me. MC members were laughing and having a good time. A few kids were running around, screaming and playing. Old ladies were trying to keep up with their children, husbands, and making sure no one went overboard.

I was feeling good, laid back, and almost emotionless. It was a fun feeling, peaceful even.

Then I saw two of my three sisters watching me with knowing smirks on their faces, and I realized this was not what I wanted. I wasn’t like them. They spent their lives always looking for a good time—drinking, doing drugs, and any guy who gave them so much as a second glance.

Putting the cup I had just poured for myself on the nearest table, I turned away from my sisters’ smiling faces and headed for the bathroom. Flick had gotten dragged away by Jet and Hawk for something party related, and Colt had tempted Kelli to go outside with him. Knowing those two, they were in the back of her car, making out like two horny teenagers. They couldn’t seem to keep their hands off each other.

The bathrooms that everyone who wasn’t a MC member used were in the back of the clubhouse, past the bedrooms. Even as tipsy as I was—okay, so I was two sips away from being stumbling drunk—I could find them with no trouble.

I passed one that I knew all too well. Not because I had ever been inside it, but because, when I had been sixteen, I had more or less stalked Raider. I had made it my mission to know everything about my best friend’s brother, and that included where he slept when he wasn’t home.

Looking back from my tipsy point of view, I realized I had been sickeningly pathetic where that particular man was concerned. How many times, as a stupid teenager, had I stood outside that door, tracing little hearts on the wood? Dammit, I wished I could go back in time and kick that girl’s ass. Maybe I wouldn’t have wasted so many years pining away for him.

Mentally cursing myself, I reached for the doorknob, but before I could touch it, the knob twisted and the door swung inward.

Lost in a mixture of self-loathing and tipsy as hell, it took me a few seconds to realize someone was coming out of the bathroom. I just stood there, blinking wide-eyed up at the guy who now stood in front of me.

It took a moment to realize who I was looking at, because this guy was one of the new prospects. The club had two newer prospects on top of the three that had been around for nearly a year now. This one had come from another club. Texas, I thought he had said.

He came in for lunch at the diner at least twice a week and always set in my section. He had been cordial every time and left me good tips. I liked his smile and had even flirted with him a time … or ten.

Boomer was the name everyone called him, but like most of the guys in the MC, I figured that wasn’t the name his momma had given him. He was nice to look at with his lean build, sleeved up tatted arms, and a face that belonged on some dark, Greek god.

“Well, hello there, pretty girl,” Boomer’s deep voice greeted me, reminding me exactly how he had gotten his name. It was a nice, deep voice. The kind that made a girl wet when he spoke to them like he just had me. His smile was even and white, almost too perfect for a biker really. There was a dimple at the left corner of his mouth, one that had gotten most of the other waitresses at Aggie’s giggling every time he flashed it at them.

“Hi,” I began, stopping as soon as I heard the sound of my voice. To my own ears, it seemed to come out all husky and sexy. Shit, but I got all seductive when I was tipsy.

Mentally shrugging, I tilted my head to the right ever so slightly while my eyes took in every inch of this guy from head to toe and back again.

Boomer just stood there, a smug grin on his face while he let me look my fill.

As my eyes started the long trip back up, I heard him chuckle. “Like what you see, darlin’?”

I felt my cheeks burn with embarrassment, but the alcohol that still made my blood sing through my veins gave me a confidence I never would have had while sober.

Licking my lips, I met his gaze. “I don’t know. Maybe if I saw what was under all those clothes, I could make up my mind.”

Dark eyes narrowed, his nostrils flared. He leaned down so we were on an even eye level. “That can be arranged, Quinn.” His voice was even deeper now, full of a lust that I had never experienced.

I swallowed hard. My heart was racing like an out of control freight train, and suddenly, my palms were slick with sweat.

Forget about Raider Hannigan, a voice in the back of my head commanded. It’s time to move on. Fuck this guy until you don’t remember who Raider is.

Another voice, one that was notably more quiet than usual tried to argue. Don’t do it, Quinn. You’re a good girl. Don’t give your V to just any guy.

I almost rolled my eyes as my inner angel and demon tried to play tug of war with my conscience. Meanwhile, in the real world, Boomer was still standing in the bathroom doorway, his eyes practically eating me alive as he waited for me to make up my mind.

Taking a small step forward, I lifted a hand and pressed my palm to the center of his chest under his prospect cut. “Kiss me,” I commanded, trying to channel all the badass chicks I knew as I pretended to know what the hell I was doing.

One second he was standing there in front of me, the next he was grabbing for my ass with both hands, backing me up against the wall behind me. He lifted me like I weighed nothing at all until I was eye level with him. With one hand now under my ass, he lifted the other to wrap around the ponytail at the back of my head.

Boomer took a moment, his gaze sweeping over every one of my facial features, before he lowered his head and captured my lips in a hungry kiss.

This was all new to me. I didn’t know where to put my hands, didn’t know what I should do with my legs that just dangled between us. I felt awkward, but his lips were nice. They were warm, slightly damp, and they were trying to devour my mouth. I tried to keep up, tried to pretend I knew what I was doing, but not even the alcohol could give me the one thing I needed right then.

Experience.

The only other kiss I had ever had was when my date got up the nerve to kiss me after our junior prom back in high school. The guy had been shaking so badly our teeth had bumped and his braces had cut my top lip. It was only later that I learned that Colt had put the fear of God into the poor guy in case he tried anything with me. I didn’t get many date offers after that.

Between the overprotectiveness of Colt and the uncles, as well as taking care of my mother while she had been so sick, chances to date hadn’t come up all that often.

This kiss was nothing like that first one, but even though it was nice, it wasn’t doing any of those incredible things I had read about in the thousands of romance novels I had read. There was no instant spark. No fireworks exploding as his hand under my ass grew bold, and he squeezed one globe roughly, his fingers rubbing over my jean-clad pussy. I didn’t get goose bumps, or feel lightheaded.

It was kind of a letdown, yet I didn’t try to stop the kiss. Maybe it would get better. I hoped at least.

I tilted my head, kissing him back as I linked my hands at the back of his neck. He pulled me in closer, grinding his lower body against my abdomen. I felt something flex against me and my blush intensified.

Holy crap. He was hard. For … me.

That thought gave me a new kind of high the alcohol hadn’t been able to, and I tried harder to get into the kiss.

This guy wanted me. He was smoking hot and a nice guy from what little I knew about him.

I could have done worse, that was for sure.

And I was ready to lose my V.

I pulled my head back, breaking the kiss. We were both breathing hard, and I caught the scent of his breath. A hint of coffee under the smell of beer and smoke.

“Bed,” I told him, licking my lips and finding them oddly sore. “Find us a bed.”

His grin was almost wicked. “Yes, ma’am.”