Chapter 23
Ginger
For the first time in as long as I could remember I was glad to let someone take over and make the decisions for me. I was emotionally exhausted and slightly brain dead from too much happening in such a short time. Rebel's presence was a peaceful balm that soothed more than one need. He was taking care of me. I recognized it because he'd done the same thing when we'd first met. I hadn't recognized it then, I’d been too frightened by being thrown into a situation that was beyond my control. But looking back, I understood that he'd taken care of me then, too, in the only way that he could.
Why? I decided the only way I was going to find out was if I simply asked him. We'd stopped at a small country kitchen, the kind that was known more for the food then ambiance, and was open all night. We'd just settled into one of the worn vinyl booths and had ordered our food. I was watching the waitress walk away when Rebel reached across the table and snagged my hand.
Our gazes met and held. His strength and his concern for me registered in his sapphire eyes, the tautness of his jaw, and the firmness of his lips. There was something else there, too, but it was hard to identify what exactly it was. His thick hair brushed against his shoulders, long enough for him to pull it back with a tie if he'd wanted to. I wanted to run my fingers through it, I wanted to smooth my hands over his rugged features to draw from his strength.
"Why are you doing this, Rebel? Why are you taking care of me?" Please, God, I silently prayed, don't let him say that it’s because I owe him money. I wanted him to have feelings for me, the same feelings that I had for him, even though I wasn't sure what those feelings were just yet. I only knew that he was important to me and that I wanted him in my life.
He took a long time to think about his answer. Leaning against the backrest of the booth, he exhaled a deep breath and released my hand. This was not a good sign in my book. I swallowed the disappointment and schooled my features to hide how devastated that small move had left me. I forced a tiny smile on my lips, hating myself when I couldn't control the tremble.
"Because I owe you money?" There, I'd said it, but I could see right away that my comment had angered Rebel, and I was suddenly glad that he wasn't holding my hand any longer. I could almost feel him squeezing it hard enough to cause me pain. I felt the need to apologize, but then reminded myself that owing him money was the only thing we really had between us.
Apart from smoking hot sex.
The muscle twitched in his clenched jaw, and it was obvious that he was struggling not to lose control. "Forget about the money. It's not about that."
"What else is there?" I found the courage to ask.
He leaned forward so fast that a frightened gasp escaped me, and I sank back against my own booth. "I'll tell you what else, angel--ever since the first fucking day you entered my life, there's been something about you that I haven't been able to forget. You are so sweet, so tempting, and so fucking pure. I wanted to claim you and keep you as mine alone from the moment I met you. Taking your cherry . . . it did something to me, knowing that I was the first man inside your tight pussy. I owned it. And the more I fucked you, the more I became addicted. I helped you escape because you were mine and no one else was going to touch you, especially not Wildman's sick fucks."
"That doesn't explain why you're going to so much trouble to help us now." Including Della in the mix made it easier to say the words.
I wasn't expecting the sexy grin to move across his face. "Oh, baby, it explains everything. Seeing you again, tasting you, it's like the years apart never happened. You're mine, angel, and I take care of what's mine. That includes the people who are important to you."
The waitress appeared with our hamburgers and fries. I made sure that she was far enough away before asking, "What happens when you leave?" I began to nibble on a fry, dreading his answer.
"What makes you think I'm leaving?" he asked around a crooked grin.
I shrugged. "You're a nomad, Rebel, isn't that what nomads do?" I took a bite of my burger, moaning with pleasure around the mouthful of juicy meat. I was suddenly ravenous.
"I admit that I hadn't come here with the intention of staying, but Daytona is my hometown, and being a nomad now, I think I'd like to have a place to come back to when I'm in between jobs." He took a huge bite of his burger, but his eyes remained on me. "I’d like to have someone waiting for me here."
Wow. The hope that his words gave me quickly went from thrilled to misery as I reminded myself that Rebel was a hard-core biker and lived like one. He wasn't the kind of man to settle down. Sure, he wanted some place to return to in between jobs, but that didn't mean that he wanted a family. He wanted a woman to relieve his sexual needs, and any woman could do that for him.
"As opposed to ‘someones’?" The bitter words were out before I could stop them. I knew enough about MCs to know what went on in them. There were club girls and groupies who hung around bikers for the thrill of being with them, and made themselves available for whatever the bikers wanted. Being a nomad meant that he was welcomed at most MCs, and I was sure that he took advantage of that perk.
"Baby, I’m sure you’re hinting at the existence of club whores. Yeah, they're a part of my life." Are, not were. "They're there because they want to be, no one forces them to do anything. They keep the men stress-free and happy."
"With sex," I clarified with disgust.
I wanted to slap the grin off his face. "Can you think of a better way to provide relief?"
Nothing else came to mind, but I wasn't going to respond to that. Instead, I focused on finishing my meal, and Rebel seemed content in doing the same. Every so often our eyes met, but I was always the first one to look away. I couldn't stop myself from thinking about him with those other women. I didn't want to think about it, but it was an all too easy visual that conjured up in my mind. I hated the image, along with the jealousy that reared its ugly head over the thought of him touching, kissing, and fucking countless women, giving them pleasure in the same way he gave it to me.
I wanted to be the only one.
The waitress came back and asked with a polite smile, "Would either of you like anything else?"
"No, thank you," I said, pushing my plate aside.
Rebel finished his beer and set the glass down. "Just the check."
She ripped off the top sheet on her pad and placed it on the table. "I'll take it when you're ready." She started to turn around.
"I'm ready now." Rebel got to his feet, picking up the check and glancing at it at the same time. He dropped it and a couple of twenties down on the table, never taking his eyes off me. "You ready?"
I wondered what he would do if I said no, but I was too tired for games. I slipped my hand into his and let him pull me from the booth. We walked wordlessly to his bike.
"Baby."
I turned to him just as I was about to get on his bike. A gasp escaped me when he picked me up and sat me down on the leather seat. He nudged my knees apart and moved between them, running his fingers through my hair. The pressure against my scalp felt wonderful, and I didn't even try to stifle the sound of pleasure moving up my throat.
Rebel groaned. "You make a sound like that, and it goes straight to my dick."
I made it again. "What do you think it does to me when you touch me like this?" He pulled my head back and placed his lips against my throat. I knew, after our conversation, that I should have pushed him away, but I needed this.
I needed him.
"This isn't why I stopped you," he began, raining kisses along my flesh. "I wanted to tell you something."
"So who's stopping you?" I arched my throat, the feel of his teeth grazing my flesh causing me to shiver. My breath caught, and my nipples hardened into achy peaks. God, I wanted him to touch them.
I wanted more.
"I can't help myself." He transferred his hands to my hips, squeezing them tightly. "You're too damned hard to resist."
"Like those other women?" God, I sounded so pathetic. Rebel stiffened and slowly drew back to look into my eyes as I let my head fall forward. He wasn't angry, though. If anything, he appeared to be amused. "Forget that I said that. I don't know what's wrong with me."
That made him smile even more, revealing the whiteness of his teeth in the dark. "Angel, you're nothing like those other women. They're whores, and not the kind of women a man chooses to make a life with. They like having sex and they spread themselves around to keep the men happy. They don't expect love and marriage, and I don't have to worry about attachments."
"How sad and lonely," I murmured. His brow rose, as if he were questioning my comment. "And you're content with that? No emotions, just sex? Don't you want love?"
"I gave up on love a long fucking time ago," he said with a bitter inflection in his voice. "Tried it, it didn't work out. It taught me that this life isn't the kind that allows for long-term commitments that include white picket fences and babies."
I was curious. "Then why do you choose this kind of life, Rebel?"
He didn't hesitate. "It's all I know, baby. I got caught stealing a car when I was sixteen, spent some time in kiddy jail, met the son of a biker, and we became friends. Went right into prospecting for his dad's club when I got out, and three years later I was a patched member."
"Dark Menace?" I remembered him mentioning them before.
He shook his head. "No, they came later. And why are we talking about this?"
I shrugged, smiling. "I'm curious about you." It was more than that. I'd met enough bikers and men like Rebel to know that they didn't talk. They grunted, growled, and snarled, most of the time keeping their lives a secret because of what they were involved in. It was nice that Rebel was giving me something deeper than that.
He found my confession amusing, I could see it in his eyes. "Why are you curious about me, angel?" He began to run his hands up and down my arms, the roughness of his warm palms stimulating me in ways that left me tingling all over.
"You're in my life. I want to get to know you." There was no sense in lying to him. "I think you're a good man." I firmly believed that only a good man would have gone to the lengths Rebel had to help me and Della.
My words seemed to surprise him. He snorted. "I've never been a good man, baby." His hands smoothed over my shoulders and up the sides of my neck, the rough caress dragging a whimper from me. "I'm an outlaw. I've killed. I live on the wrong side of the law. But right now all I can think about is fucking you." His words took my breath away. "But first, I want to taste you, make you scream my name when you come on my tongue."
Fuck! I knew that he could do it, too. A voracious need surged through me for him to do exactly that, and the sooner the better. I was surprised that I wasn't melting at his feet from the intense heat that was racing through my blood. The heat between my legs grew, dampening my panties. I could feel the hard ridge of Rebel's cock right there at the crucial spot, throbbing against the bundle of nerves that would make me come. Suddenly I couldn't help myself. I shifted my hips so that I could grind against him, closing my eyes and groaning loudly.
He gripped my hips and held me against him, burying his face against the side of my neck. His nose nuzzled me, his lips glided over my skin, his teeth nibbled hard enough to cause more wetness to escape my body.
"Christ, angel, I'm going to fuck you right here in about two minutes."
I laughed softly, understanding his need. "Then we'd better go home." I could feel his heart thumping against me.
After a minute or two of continuing what we were doing, he finally pulled back with a growl. "Good idea."
The ride home was quiet and fast. Anticipation of what I expected to happen once Rebel got me home overwhelmed me. The rumble of the bike beneath me kept my pussy thrumming with arousal. I found myself forcing down my need to come. I wanted it to be on Rebel's tongue, or with his cock inside of me, not while I was on his bike, yet the constant vibration against my pussy was slowly winning. I released a sigh of relief when he finally pulled into my apartment complex and pulled into a spot.
He shut the engine off and sat there for a minute, taking in a deep breath. "Did you come?"
He knew! My eyes grew big, even though I knew that he couldn't see me. "I'm waiting for you," I said softly.
I felt his silent laughter shake his body. Then he helped me off before dismounting himself. Words weren't necessary. He took my hand and led me to my door. Suddenly, recalling the way I'd left my apartment earlier, I stiffened and pulled back slightly, not wanting to go inside. I didn't know if I could face the blood again. The memory of that was still too fresh in my mind.
Rebel glanced back at me, unlocking the door, but he didn't open it. He turned to face me, sensing my concern. He reached up and cupped my cheek with his hand. "Baby, I had your apartment cleaned up while you were at the hospital. Della's, too."
I stared at him in awe. The man was too much! He was a good man, I didn't care what he believed. "Thank you."
"I told you, I take care of what's mine," he said simply, his eyes holding mine captive. "And stop saying ‘thank you’."
I closed my mouth, smiling, because that's exactly what I'd been about to do. "You know, you never did tell me what you said you had to tell me," I reminded him.
I sensed the change in him almost immediately. His expression turned serious as he rubbed a hand over his lower jaw. I got the impression that he was trying to make up his mind as to whether he should tell me now or later. I waited patiently.
"All I can think about right now is getting you naked and under me, baby. We can talk any time." He reached forward and ran his finger over my bottom lip. "Are you down for that?"
Oh, I was so down for that. I opened my mouth and sucked his finger inside. A hiss slipped through his teeth, and a spark glittered in his dark eyes. He grabbed me and pulled me inside my apartment, slamming and locking the door behind us.