Chapter 19

Nicole

For the second—or was it third?—time in less than a week I found myself on the back of Tank’s motorcycle as we sped through downtown Reno. And this ride was more exhilarating than any other. I don’t know if it was the alcohol or the weird place I was in my head with all the drama going on, but I felt like I was flying. While Tank gunned it down Virginia Street, I tilted my face into the air and reveled in the wind whipping against my skin. I wanted to lean back and raise my arms in delight, but the feel of Tank’s large, hard body in my arms was just as exhilarating.

This guy was the hottest man I’d ever seen, let alone slept with. I still didn’t know how I’d ever bagged such a hottie. God, he felt so good between my thighs and in my arms right then. And last weekend. And that first time. My nipples hardened to throbbing peaks at the dirty turn my thoughts took when I remembered how his piercing felt rubbing against my clit when he was deep inside of me. I pressed closer against his back, seeking relief to the rage of hormones crashing through me.

But if Tank noticed my hardened nipples or the urgent way I gripped his hips with my thighs, he didn’t let on. His hands remained on the handlebars and his attention on the road.

A little perturbed, I gripped him tighter with my thighs and thought about what Brittany had told me about her and Stitch. Could I have that with Tank? Could I ever trust any biker as much as I’d need to in order to fall for him?

I remembered the look on my mom’s face just a few hours ago when my dad spoke. They were supposed to be in the throes of rekindling their relationship, but she’d looked just as abused as I remembered her that last time he left.

I wouldn’t be her.

When we pulled into Tank’s driveway, all my earlier glee evaporated. Now I was freaked. I didn’t know if I could trust myself to make good decisions. And despite the way I’d downed so many drinks earlier with Brittany, I couldn’t blame my lack of inhibitions on alcohol. I hadn’t had a drink in an hour and the blast of fresh air on the ride over was enough to sober me up the rest of the way. No. It was Tank.

I slipped off the back of his bike and stood next to it, examining a crack in his cement as though it held the secrets of the universe. But it wouldn’t tell me why I was in Tank’s driveway or why this man had such a pull over me.

Shit, maybe I was still drunk.

“Hey.”

I jerked my head up at Tank’s quiet voice.

“You all right?” Tank tilted his head as he looked at my expression. Whatever he found there must’ve concerned him because he continued. “Do you want me to take you home? Or call someone else for you?”

And there it was. My out. With a simple shake of my head I could get out of whatever this was between us. Go home and after exerting a whole lot of self-control probably never hear from Tank again.

Who was I kidding? I had zero self-control when it came to chocolate or this man.

“No, let’s go inside,” I said softly, still not looking at him.

“You sure? You look…like you’re struggling with something. And if it’s coming inside with me…”

I let loose a bitter little laugh. “I’m struggling with everything. I just…I don’t know what I’m doing anymore. What are we doing? What happened to one and done? One became two and turned into flirty texts that are confusing the hell outta me. What is this? What are we doing?”

Tank groaned as he got off his bike. Or maybe he groaned at my questions. Oh, great, I’d officially turned into the needy “Where are we going” girl. Just shoot me now.

He set his helmet down on the seat, then grabbed my hand as he led us to his front door. “That is way too deep of a question for two in the fucking morning. How about we get some sleep, and then I’ll answer all the questions your huge brain can come up with.”

“But…” By the time I got that much out, he already had the front door unlocked and was petting his cute dog in the front room.

“Hey, girl. What are you doing up? You should be fast asleep dreaming about chasing bunnies in Idlewild Park or something.” He gave her a few more pats. Then, catching a look at my tender smile, he brushed a few stray dog hairs off his leather jacket sleeve with a muttered, “Damn dog.”

He was trying to look all tough and mean, but come on. Any man who could have so much affection for a geriatric dog couldn’t be all hard, right?

He gave me a funny look like he was embarrassed, then grabbed my hand and pulled me down the hall with a hollered, “Night, Stella!”

I looked over my shoulder, expecting to see his dog following us down the hall, but she was already burrowing into a huge, plush dog bed in the far corner of the living room. Huh, I kinda got the vibe that he was the kind of man who’d sleep with his dog. Not that I was complaining. I wasn’t too eager to share mattress space with a furry animal. Especially if we were gonna get naked. My body thrummed with anticipation.

But I was to be bitterly disappointed a few minutes later.

When we reached his bedroom at the end of the hall, I had a few seconds to take in the white walls, unmade king-size bed, and beat-up collection of dressers and nightstands before Tank threw a large white shirt in my face. I sputtered as I pulled it away. “What are you…”

My voice trailed off when I caught sight of him pulling his shirt over his head. His leather jacket lay at his feet, but all I could look at was his rippling abs and muscular chest. And those tattoos. The view never got old. When his hands moved to his pants, I think I swallowed my tongue. He unbuckled his belt and shucked his pants before I even had a chance to attempt to calm my racing heart. I must’ve made some kind of squeaking sound, because Tank paused in his disrobing and looked at me with a raised eyebrow.

“Everything okay?”

“Mmm-hmmm,” I murmured.

“Well, hurry up and get naked. I’m tired.” Tank left his boxers on as he crawled into bed.

I watched him and felt nonplussed. Were we getting naked for bed or for bed? A moment later I had my answer.

“Come on, baby girl. Strip down and put my shirt on. I wanna turn the light off. It’s fucking with my eyes.”

So just plain ol’ bed. Sigh. I gave him my back and quickly shed my clothing and threw on his large white T-shirt. The scent of his detergent enveloped me. It wasn’t quite the same as his scent—it was missing that manly tang that was undeniably his. In a moment it was me crawling into bed this time, only more slightly dressed than him since I was wearing his T-shirt and my panties. That was when it hit me: Tank’s spicy scent surrounded me, and I felt more secure than I had all night.

And then his arms wrapped around me as he pulled my body into the cradle of his. Tears burned at the back of my eyelids, but I wouldn’t let them fall. I couldn’t remember the last time someone just held me with no expectations—just wanted to hold me and comfort me. I felt relieved and safe, like a weight had been brushed off me with Tank’s strong arms. But scared at the same time. I was scared to let myself trust. Scared that Tank—like every other man in my life—would let me down when push came to shove. That he wouldn’t think I was worth the hassle and drama and bullshit that I always brought. A tear fell from my eye and trailed down my face. I wiped it away with the flat of my hand before it could drip onto Tank.

Tank’s voice rumbled above my head. “You wanna tell me what’s been going on?”

I gave a weary sigh. “Too much bullshit and drama to worry you with. I’m fine.”

“Then you wanna explain why you’re in my bed—in my arms—and crying?”

My stomach went icy cold. I thought I’d been so quiet. How had he known? “It’s nothing. Just family bullshit combined with too much alcohol and no sex. I think I just need some sleep.”

Tank huffed in irritation—I know because I’d heard that same sound all my life from my friends and family. I tended to cause that reaction in people. But he let it go. We lay there in compatible silence for a few minutes. Despite the late hour, I wasn’t remotely tired. My mind kept jumping from my mom and dad to me and Tank to my conversation with Brittany, then to the look on Stitch’s face when he heard what Brittany had to say about their relationship. And to my best friends at Jessica’s wedding. They were so happy. With bikers. Maybe it was—

“How about I go first, then?” Tank’s voice tore me out of my mental gymnastics.

“Okay. What’s on your mind?” I fully expected him to say something about us or why I was at Brittany’s, but he surprised me with what he said next.

“My sister, Christy, is married to the biggest asshole and has wasted—I don’t know—over ten years or something trying to make it work with him. Why the fuck does she keep wasting her life with him? Why can’t she just cut bait and get the fuck outta there?”

My chest shuddered as I heard him verbalize the same thoughts that’d been going through my head all night about my mom. “Some women either don’t see the flaws or ignore them because they’d rather be with a jerk than alone.”

“Oh, she sees them. She was at my place tonight before work, bitching about what a lazy asshole her husband is and how he can’t hold down a job to save his fucking life. She needs to drop his punk ass. It’s not that hard. It only took me a couple of years to see the fucking mess Abby had made of my life.”

“Abby?”

“Fuck.” Tank rolled onto his back and scrubbed his face with his hands.

I turned onto my other side and watched him in the dim moonlit room. “Who’s Abby?”

“My ex-wife.”

“Oh.” I knew he had to have a past. (Because otherwise that would be crazy, especially considering the kinda past I had.) But something about the thought that this man had said vows to another woman…felt like betrayal. He’d loved another woman enough to marry her. Made a life with her. A bitter well of disappointment pooled in my mouth and tasted acrid. “How long were you guys married?”

“Four years, I think? But half of that doesn’t really count because I wasn’t here. I was deployed for a couple of years in the middle. So actually only two. The first and last year.”

“Oh.”

An awkward silence descended for a moment before Tank rushed to fill it. “Really, we only got married because my Basic Allowance from the military increased and it put Abby on my insurance. And ’cause of the sex. If any woman ever proved that ‘Crazy women are hot in the sack’ thing, it was Abby.”

I made a gasping, choking sound. Was he actually talking about fucking another woman while lying in bed with me?

“Oh, shit.” Tank sat up and leaned toward me. “I’m not saying that you’re crazy. I think we both know you’re fantastic in bed. But not crazy. I mean Abby came at me with a knife once.”

“What? She stabbed you?”

Tank shrugged. “She tried to. She was fucking crazy.”

“Yeah, I can see that. But I wasn’t pissed that it meant I was crazy. I was pissed that you were talking about fucking another woman while in bed with me.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Oh.” I shoved his shoulder until he sprawled on his back.

Tank sighed. “This is why I don’t talk. The tall, silent, badass thing works for me. The minute I open my mouth I shove my foot inside.”

I chuckled. He was so fucking cute without even trying. Giving in to temptation, I cuddled up next to him. “Nice to know you think I’m a fantastic fuck, though.”

Tank laughed. “Stick with me, baby girl. I give the best compliments.”

My cheeks were starting to hurt with the amount of smiling I was doing. I couldn’t deny it. I was starting to fall for Tank. We cuddled for a few moments before I asked, “So what are you gonna do about Christy?”

“Nothing, I guess. She’s got to make her own decisions. And like I just showed you, the second I open my big mouth my brain stops working.”

“Sucks that we can’t make our family members pick good partners, though.”

“Yeah. But I tell you what. The minute she lets that loser go, me and a few Brothers are jumping his punk ass.”

I flinched at the reminder of his biker background and the kinda justice they sought. It made me think of my mom and the number of times she had to lie to the police about where my dad had been. Was that the kinda life that was waiting with me and Tank? Lies and police interrogations and bloody knuckles?

If not worse…

“You never did say what was going on with you. Why were you getting wasted at Brittany’s tonight?”

I felt more uncomfortable now than when Tank had awkwardly brought up his ex. What did I say? I’d been super vague with Brittany when I talked about my dad. Just told her that he was a one-percenter who beat the hell outta my mom. I knew better than to ever give specifics. For all I knew, Bear’s club were enemies of the True Brothers. I didn’t know. I never paid attention to my dad’s rantings when he was drunk and muttering about club business.

“I, uh, same kinda stuff as you. My mom just took back my dad. Again. Only this time he’s fresh from a prison stint, so he’s got a one-up on your shitty brother-in-law.”

“Damn. I take it your parents broke up when he went inside? How long was he in?”

“Fifteen years. But I don’t know if they ever broke up. I thought they did. I mean we moved a whole state away to get away from the publicity and the gossip. I thought my mom divorced him when she finally got out on her own, but now…I don’t know.”

“Fifteen years? That’s not a small amount of time to serve. What did he go away for? Embezzlement or something?”

An ugly laugh escaped me. The thought that Bear would be sent down for something as white-collar as embezzlement was so fucking funny. And sad.

“What?” Tank leaned slightly away so he could look at me. “What’s so funny?”

“The thought that my dad was sentenced for embezzlement. What kinda family do you think I have?”

“I don’t know. You’re smart. You went to college. You’re so fucking put together—you gotta be the product of a normal, white-picket-fence family.”

My ugly laughter really flowed at that assumption. “He went away for voluntary manslaughter, which his club-provided lawyer plea-bargained down from second degree murder. They caught him literally red-handed in the middle of a bar fight where a few other bikers died. I’m not the product of a white-collar family. My dad is a one-percenter.”

Tank bounded off the bed and slapped the overhead light on. The room went from black and white to stark color in a heartbeat. My eyes squinted as I fought against the glare.

“Your dad is a biker?” Tank asked the question, but it sounded more like an accusation. He stood a few feet from the bed with his arms crossed over his chest as he glared down at me.

“Yeah. A one-percenter. Rides with a club in California. But maybe not anymore. I don’t know. Because now he’s here. With my mom.”

Tank just stared at me like he’d never seen me before. “What was all that bullshit last week at the rehearsal dinner about never being on a bike before?”

“Seriously? You’re getting your panties in a wad over something I didn’t even say? You were the one who assumed. I just let you think it.”

Tank didn’t say anything. He just continued to give me his angry stare.

“What the hell is going on?”

“What club is he with?”

“Huh?”

“What. Club. Is. He. With.” Tank pronounced every word like I was an annoying computer-program operator.

“Why does that matter?” I pushed my hair off my face in frustration. “Wait, do you think I’m in cahoots or whatever with him? That I’m here to spy on your club and report back to his fucking psycho biker buddies?”

Tank didn’t say anything, just inclined his chin in a short nod.

“Oooh. You know what? Fuck. You.” I rolled off the bed, grabbed my pants, and started to pull them on. The entire time I kept my eye on Tank. With his one nod, I’d lost all my trust in him. The idea that anyone thought I could be in league with my asshole father, that I would sleep with a guy to get information like some kinda Mata Hari for bikers, was insulting and degrading, and heartbreakingly sad that it was coming from this person. I just wanted to get out of here and forget this whole insane night.

I got dressed and stared Tank down the entire time. It was only when I rounded the bed to get to the door within reach of Tank that he finally said something.

“Wait.”

I ignored him and tried to dodge around to reach the door when he grabbed my arm. “Hey!”

“Nic, wait. I…I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t…Fuck, this has been a hellish night.”

“Wa-ho no. You wanna know what a hellish night is? A hellish night is when you go over to your mom’s house for a little dinner date, but find out that she’s back with the abusive, destructive, murdering asshole she’d left years ago. And then you find out that he’s only been back in her life less than a month and she already has that look in her eyes. That one that says she’s already afraid of him. That he’s already hurting her. And you can’t do anything about it. And then it’s going home—that same night—with your boyfriend, only for him to call you a whoring little spy for that same asshole. So you know what? You can take your little hellish night and your pathetic apology and shove them up your ass. Because I’m outta here.”

I jerked my arm free and had a hand on the doorknob when I heard him whisper, “Boyfriend?”

“Sorry. I guess I was inaccurate.” Keeping one hand on the doorknob, I turned to face him. “I should’ve called you ‘the asshole I’d been sleeping with.’ Because clearly you never really knew me.”

Tank’s hands curled into fists before he heaved a huge breath and uncurled them. Still he wouldn’t look at me. “And whose fault is that?”

“You’re kidding, right?”

“You have huge walls up that are impossible to get around. That’s not on me.”

“No, your ugly assumptions and vile accusations are on you. And you’re one to talk, by the way. Your walls are higher and thicker than a Supermax prison’s.”

“You got me there. I’m sorry about what I said about you and your dad. There’s some shit going down with the club, and everyone’s kinda paranoid right now. Including me. But that doesn’t make it right.” Tank finally looked at me, his eyes tinged with regret. “I know a little bit about having people you trusted making wild accusations. It’s pretty fucked up. I never thought…That’s just it. I didn’t think.”

“Who…Was it your ex?”

“Yeah.” Tank shrugged uncomfortably. “She kinda did a number on me in the court system. Said a bunch of shit that wasn’t true, interlaced with a few facts that were—mostly my PTSD and my history of brawling. But I swear to you, I never lifted a finger against her. I don’t hit women. My mama raised me better than that. Actually, Christy did.”

My death grip on the doorknob went lax after the charming, self-deprecating smile he aimed at me. Honestly, I don’t even think he was aware how powerful that look was—otherwise he’d use it a lot more often. My justifiable anger and resolve weakened slightly. I closed the distance between us like he had some magnetic pull over me. “I’m still mad at you.”

“You should be.” He wrapped his arms around me and pulled me close to him.

“I’ve been known to hold grudges for weeks.”

“You can have the rest of the night.”

“What kinda bullshit is that? I can’t stop being angry just beca—” The rest of my words were cut off when he covered my lips with his. He kissed me with an urgency that made my body burn. After a few moments he pulled away and rested his head on top of mine.

“We okay?” he asked.

I heaved a huge sigh and burrowed closer. “Yeah. For now. But my grudge still stands.”

“We’ll see about that.”

I gave a muffled shriek as Tank hoisted me into his arms, then tossed me onto the bed a few feet away. A second later my panting breath mingled with his as he went about showing me just how sorry he was.

And after a few minutes I told him that he was forgiven.

Actually, I screamed it after the third orgasm.