Gidget awoke the next morning breathless and disoriented. Either she’d spent the night fucking Butch, or that had just been a teasing series of dreams.
She rolled over in bed, finding it empty and cold. Yep…just a dream. Her pussy throbbed and she hopped out of bed, needing a cold shower and some distraction. It was Saturday and she had nothing scheduled, but she needed to at least seem like she had something scheduled. For Butch, and all.
It was important that he had a good opinion of her. She wanted him to know about her life, to think highly of her. But he just wouldn’t break. And she couldn’t believe that he wasn’t at least trying to come on to her even a little by now.
She turned the water on and waited for it to run warm before stepping inside. The pleasure of the water stream distracted her, but thoughts soon returned to Butch. His sexy display in the fighting ring the night before had left her hot and bothered…so much that he followed her into every single dream she’d had. But she wouldn’t be the first to make a move. Not now. Not after their weird, rocky start.
Because with him, she had a sneaking suspicion that he’d reject her. And that would hurt worse than anything else. She couldn’t risk the no.
Gidget hummed through her shower, trying to get herself clear-headed and ready for the day, even though she had no idea where to go from here. Maybe she’d drag Butch out on another pseudo-date through the woods. Or maybe she could drag him to the movies, make him buy her popcorn.
She grinned. There was something a little too fun about that idea.
After her shower, she dressed in tight jean shorts and a flowy top, one that showed off the admirable curves of her breasts in just the way she liked. She strutted into the clubhouse, eyes out for Butch.
Weak music pulsed from the speakers, like the leftover dregs from last night. A few brothers hung around at the bar, but who knew if they were finishing their night or starting early today. Someone had made eggs—the scent wafted from the kitchen. But no Butch.
For how many people filled the parties and the relative size of the clubhouse, she was surprised by how often she’d lost track of Butch the night before. Her plan had been to keep him within arm’s reach after the fight, but between getting roped into card games and fielding the persistent questions of the newest recruits, hopeful for a chance with her, she’d barely seen Butch at all after his victory.
So maybe he’d left the clubhouse altogether…made his way to someone else’s house.
The thought struck a chilly fear into her. She raced into the hallway, turning the corner toward Butch’s room. She knocked softly, biting her lip as she awaited an answer. Knocking on any brother’s door the night after a party was asking for trouble…you never knew what you’d find inside.
But desperate times called for desperate measures.
And Gidget needed to see for herself.
No sound from inside. Gidget knocked again, louder this time, shifting from foot to foot as she waited.
“You lookin’ for Butch?” Tundra rounded the corner on his way out of the bathroom, nodding toward the door.
“Yeah.” Gidget tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. “Have you seen him?”
“Not since last night. Probably still passed out, after all he drank.” Tundra guffawed and shuffled down the hallway.
Gidget steeled herself and knocked again. So he was probably in there. She just had to be forceful.
No answer came, so she tried the knob. Unlocked. After she pushed the door open a crack, she peered inside. The room was dark, so dark that it took her a moment to locate the bed. But there it was—pushed up against the back wall. The covers were rumpled. She pushed the door open a bit further, spilling light into the room.
“Butch?”
He shifted on the bed, rolling away from the door. He grumbled something, and then silence.
“Butch. It’s me.” She stepped inside hesitantly, eyes careening around the room. It was sparse, looked like the uninhabited room it had been before he’d arrived. One t-shirt was slung over the chair in the corner; on top of the dresser, a holster with a pistol inside. Other than that…nothing.
He grunted, and rolled over again. “What?”
She gnawed at the inside of her lip as she approached the bed. Why was she even in here? She had no good reason, only that she wanted more Butch. She’d work out the rest later.
“I came to check on you.” She paused, clearing her throat. His wide shoulders faced away from her, tattoos creeping down his spine. Gidget eased onto the bed, trying not to disturb him. How easily she could slip under the covers with him…see what was underneath…
“You drank a lot last night, they told me,” she added when he didn’t reply. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”
“Mmmmm.”
“And well, uh, I have to get going soon, and…” She glanced around the room, like she might find a convenient lie somewhere in the dim lighting. “I didn’t want to leave without letting you know.”
He rolled onto his back, rubbing at his eyes with a hand. “Oh yeah?” His voice came out rumbly and hoarse.
Her gaze trekked up and down the exposed skin of his torso. His muscles bulged as he rubbed at his face. A thin white sheet covered him from the waist down; it could be removed so easily…so quickly…maybe he wouldn’t mind if you got in there with him.
“Yeah. We’re a team, now.” She studied the dark arch of his brow as his bleary gaze settled on her. Something about him in the dim morning hours was captivating. She longed to know his embrace, to find a sweet spot in those beefy arms.
Butch’s abs flexed as he laughed once, a short expulsion that sent shivers down her spine. He threw the covers off of him, revealing washboard stomach and all. He wore tight little black boxer briefs, which showcased a bulging package too nicely. Her jaw dropped and she froze, unable to look away. He rolled out of bed and stormed into the bathroom. The door slammed shut behind him.
A moment later the water snapped to life and she slumped onto his bed, suddenly drained and aching. Every part of her wanted to creep into the bathroom, see if he might yank her inside the shower with him. She ran a hand over the rumpled bedsheets, catching a waft of his scent from the fabric, something earthy and male. She sighed heavily.
You only want him because he doesn’t want you.
That seemed only half-right, though. Gidget sure as hell was used to getting what she wanted, especially when it came to men. But there was something about Butch that would have stopped her dead in her tracks, anywhere, anytime.
If only he’d pay a little more attention to her.
He showered fast, so fast that she was still on his bed when he came out of the shower, a white towel wrapped around his waist. If he was surprised by her still in his room, he didn’t show it.
“What are you still doing here?”
“Waiting for you.” She dragged a finger in an invisible pattern over the sheets, batting her eyes up at him.
He grunted, heading for the dresser. “Can’t a man dress in peace?”
“I thought maybe you’d need help.” She cocked a grin—that smart response had just flown past her lips without even thinking.
“I don’t.” He pointed to the door. She sighed and pushed herself off the bed, feeling a lot like a kid being sent to their room. He slammed the door shut behind her and she wandered down the hall, mind reeling. Now she had to think of something to do for the day, especially since Butch was getting ready on her account.
She headed for the kitchen, mind swimming with possibilities. She grabbed a pear from the fruit basket and munched on it. That was it. Swimming. The perfect way to have a relaxed day with Butch at her side…maybe even tease him a little. Feel out that stony God, see if he was ready to bend her way yet.
Butch came into the kitchen a few moments later, dressed in jeans and black t-shirt. He headed for the coffee maker without looking her way.
“You want some?” She held out her pear.
He sized it up, then grabbed it from her. He took a bite that was double the size of hers and handed it back. “Thanks,” he said as he chewed.
She grinned at the enormous bite—something like a monster’s. She nibbled up the remaining pear, looking him up and down.
“Curious where we’re going?”
“I’m sure you’ll tell me,” he said, pouring coffee grounds into the filter basket.
“Are you a fan of the sun?”
He looked over at her, his dark eyes sending a jolt through her. “What do you mean?”
“Being outside. Soaking up the sun. You know…laying out and stuff.”
“Do I look like a man who lays out?” His tone was acidic, but there was a hint of a smile in his eyes.
She laughed, tossing her pear into the garbage. “Fine. I wanna go to the pool. You should put your trunks on, if you’ve got ‘em.”
“No need for a swimsuit in prison,” he said.
“We’ll see if someone can lend you one, then. I’m sure Zebra will.”
Butch sized her up like he was going to add more, but didn’t say anything else. She sauntered out of the kitchen, heading first for Zebra’s room. He was dead to the world, but she managed to get his permission to fish a pair of swimming trunks out of his dresser drawer.
Back in her room, she changed quickly, putting on her sexiest, strappiest black bathing suit. She topped it off with a loose sun dress, grabbed her towel, and packed a quick day bag. She returned to the kitchen to pack some snacks and bottles of water, and then turned to Butch with a grin. He sat at the dinette, sipping jet black coffee.
“I have a swimsuit for you,” she said.
“Great.”
“Is that all you have for breakfast?” She nodded toward his coffee cup.
“Only way to start the day.”
“You should at least have some more fruit.” She reached for a banana in the fruit bowl, and then handed it to him. “Your body needs it.”
He squinted at her, like maybe she’d suddenly started speaking a different language. “How do you know what my body needs?”
“It’s science, tough guy.” She rolled her eyes, adding the banana to the bag. For when he changed his mind or softened up later. “You can’t survive on booze and black coffee alone.”
“Maybe you can’t,” he muttered, sipping his coffee.
She hid her grin, scooping up an extra pear and banana just in case. Then she plopped down in the chair next to him. “I’m ready when you are. I grabbed a pair of trunks for you, and a towel.”
He didn’t respond.
“And don’t worry, there’s enough sunscreen to share. We can do each other’s backs.” She nudged him with her shoulder.
He grunted, but she swore there was a glimmer of a smile on his face. He drained his coffee and set the mug in the sink. “Let’s go.”
She slung her bag over her shoulder, following him out of the kitchen and toward the front door. A few curious eyes flitted their way. Maybe wondering what the two of them might be up to so early. On Saturday after a party, anything before 2 p.m. was considered ‘early’.
Outside, the sun beat down bright and hot—perfect for tanning. She grinned, sliding sunglasses down her nose, strutting behind Butch. This was a genius idea.
When he got to his bike, he lifted a brow. “Aren’t you goin’ on yours?”
She shook her head. “Let’s just ride together.” She lifted the lid of his back storage, shoving the bag inside. Once he put his helmet on he swung his leg over the bike and she followed suit, pressing herself up against him. The scent of soap reached her, and she fought the urge to bury her face in his back.
The motorcycle roared to life and he popped the kickstand. She wrapped her arms around his waist, inching forward so that as much of her pressed against him as possible. She bucked her hips ever so slightly, desperate to feel the curve of him between her legs. Butch felt too good in her arms.
He backed the bike out of the spot and then a moment later they roared away. Wind enveloped them as they blazed down the main street. She leaned her forehead against his bike, relishing the feel of him between her thighs, the heat of the air, the day ahead of them, and smiled to herself.