Eve
THE MAN SCREWED me into a coma. This must be why I wake up in bed.
Alone. And naked.
I never noticed when he picked me up and moved me in the middle of the night. Forget melatonin—Rev is a one-man testament to the superior sleeping power of a good orgasm. I grab a quick shower, pull on some clothes and stagger out to the kitchen in search of coffee. Rev’s passed out on my couch. Sprawled on his back, he looks bigger than ever, which has to be impossible. Heat flushes my body as I take in his relaxed form. His legs are bent, one arm thrown over his head. Boyfriend is such a weird word. I try it silently, not quite ready to say it out loud. My boyfriend, Rev. Or maybe this is my boyfriend. So what if he rocks my world sexually? It does not mean I canonize him.
He certainly doesn’t look saintlike. Saints absolutely do not come with broad shoulders or such powerful biceps. Tattoos are also definitely not saintly accessories. I don’t own a single throw pillow—he can’t possibly be comfortable. Instead of worrying about the man’s comfort, however, I’m helplessly focused on the way his T-shirt rides up, exposing his stomach and six-pack abs. How does he manage to take up all the space in my house?
“Feel free to touch,” he rumbles, eyes still closed. “Or you just gonna stand there?”
I reach for him, trailing my fingers over that tempting strip of skin. God. He’s hard and silky, heated and so impossibly, wonderfully male. Or maybe that’s thanks to the impossible-to-ignore ridge beneath the worn denim clinging to his body. Denim. My favorite kind of gift-wrapping.
“My bed had room for two,” I whisper.
“I have a hard time sleeping with other people around.” He opens his eyes.
Calloused fingers wrap around my wrist and tug gently. Funny how he reads both deadly and safe at the same time, as if he’s ready to give the rest of the world a beat down but then he holds me with such care. Despite my awkward perch on the side of the couch, I go all in. I throw my leg over his hips and straddle him like I’m a cowgirl and he’s my best saddle. He invited me down, so he can put up or shut up.
“Hell of a way to wake up.” His smile is slow, sleepy and so fucking perfect.
“Tell me about it,” I whisper back. Since I need to put my hands somewhere, I set them on his chest. The heat of him radiates through the thin T-shirt, and his musky scent teases me. Rev smells like oil and leather and danger. Like the open road and freedom. The sleepy smile transforms his face from fierce to sensually predatory, as if he’s thinking about taking a bite out of me—or having himself a taste.
Please, please taste me.
Rev takes his time, running his thumbs over my hips, tracing the line of my bikini panties through my jeans. I fight the urge to relax into that wicked touch, leaning toward him when he doesn’t move further. He just takes me in, sprawled beneath me like some great beast.
“I need to know something.” The man’s a mystery, but part of me feels as if I’ve known him for years. God. This is so bad. In the dating world, I’ve just cannonballed into the deep end of the pool—and the water might be way too shallow.
“Shoot,” he says casually.
“What’s the deal between you and my brother? Are you friends or what?”
Rocker hasn’t touched base with me yet this morning and that’s unusual. He usually has a sixth sense about when I’m trouble. Or bothered. Worked up about anything. For Rev, I’m all three, plus there’s my SUV run-in yesterday.
“Shit’s complicated.” Nope. Not an answer at all.
“I’m generally not considered stupid.” I don’t like playing games—and I really don’t want to play with Rev. Throw him down, rip his clothes off, have my way with him? Yes, yes and hell yes. Word games, however, aren’t my thing.
Rev mutters an obscenity. “I’m Hard Rider. He’s Black Dog. Our clubs have some differences of opinion.”
“Anything I should be concerned about?”
His eyes hold mine, hardening with resolution. “Not one goddamned thing for you to worry about. You know much about club life?”
I wiggle, getting comfortable—although the impressive erection pressed against my pussy doesn’t lend itself to comfort. “Rocker and I grew up as club rats. Our dad rode with a local club. He never made officer, but he patched in and rode with them. Helped out when they called and stuff, which didn’t work out so well for us.”
Rev could make a killing playing poker because I can’t tell what he’s thinking. His face is blank and unreadable, his eyes no longer warm and hot. Am I pissing him off by talking shit about someone else’s club? I won’t bullshit about this, however, because my dad’s club wasn’t good for our family. It ripped us apart.
“He got twenty-five to fifty for transporting weapons,” I say way too loudly. “He went away and then Rocker and I bounced around after that. Our mom wasn’t making much and times were tough.”
“Club shoulda taken care of you,” Rev growls.
“If wishes were horses, I’d be able to run the Preakness single-handed. That part of my life is over and done with, but I’m not a big club fan.”
He nods, hand dipping lower. “Hear you on that. You got plans for today?”
“Work.” I offer him a regretful smile.
“Be better if you stayed put today.”
“For who? I have a job. Money to earn. Five-year-olds to please. No work means no cash and I’ve got my bills to pay.”
Rev stills. It’s not as if he was a sea of motion before, but something in him goes quiet as if he’s working on not unleashing his inner predator. “Ask Rocker about your going into work today.”
I swing off Rev’s lap. Clearly, we need to work on his relationship skills before he’s ready for me to make my next move, because hello? It’s the twenty-first century and I don’t take orders from whatever man’s decorating my life at the moment. “We should be clear on one thing. Rocker’s not my owner.”
I look after Rocker, not the other way round.
“Fuck.” Rev shoves upright, running a hand over his head. “Didn’t mean to imply he was, but shit’s going down.”
“Rev?”
“Yeah?”
“This is where you tell me about the shit going down and then I make my own decision, like the big girl I am.”
“If you grew up in a club, you know I can’t discuss club business with you.”
This isn’t a battle I’m winning today, so I head for the kitchen and my BFF, Mr. Coffee. I need to leave and I’d prefer to go caffeinated. While the coffee brews, I retreat down the hall and do my princess hair and makeup. When I come back, a fully dressed Rev is by the front door, holding out a to-go mug of coffee.
“Thanks, honey,” I say, rolling my eyes.
He promptly raises the cup up too high for me to reach. “Nobody’s forcing you to drink it.”
Since coffee is both the elixir of the gods and mandatory this early in the morning, I reach for the cup, plastering my body against his as I stretch. No point in letting him have all the fun. When my fingers close around the handle, I plant a quick, hard kiss on his gorgeous mouth. The man’s lips are downright sinful, and not just because they make me think about sex. And talking dirty.
And a million other things I shouldn’t do.
He grunts as I let go of his beautiful body and brush past him. My girls are waiting in my driveway.
Rev follows me outside. “Still wish you’d rethink.”
“You have information to share with me?” Rocker asked me to keep my eyes and ears peeled, so I’ll touch bases with him. Club business that worries Rev could touch Rocker, too. Maybe he’ll benefit from the heads-up.
“Nope,” he says easily, gaze moving over the pink RV.
“Bye,” I say at the same moment Rev hooks a finger in the back of my jeans and tugs. I take an involuntary step backward and debate the wisdom of launching my coffee cup at his head. Bet that would piss him off and he’d do something about it. This leads to dirty thoughts about how Rev might express that displeasure, starting with his big hand on my butt. No sexy fantasies on a workday. Shit. I need to schedule time with my vibrator. In real life, I have zero interest in being draped over my guy’s knee for a spanking, but I sure enjoy the hell out of the fantasy.
“Your brother lost the guy we had watching his ass, so change of plans. Where you go, I go. Fucking biblical.”
“Ummm. What?” My childhood didn’t exactly feature Bible camps, but I’m certain that Jesus Christ didn’t encourage swearing, seeing as how there’s a commandment specifically forbidding it.
“I’m your bodyguard,” Rev announces like it makes perfect sense.
“Not sure I understand,” I admit. “You’ve been following my brother?”
He gives me a small, hard smile. “I’m gonna stick by your side today. Tomorrow. As many days as it takes. You know that story in the Bible about Ruth?”
Uh, no. I sure don’t. I’ll never be one of those people name-dropping chapters and verses. Rev wraps me up in his big arms.
“Ruth hooks up with this guy. Marries him and moves in with him, which is a big deal because he’s from a different country and worships different gods. He up and dies, and then it’s just Ruth and her mother-in-law, Naomi.”
“Is this a mother-in-law horror story?” I try and fail to imagine Rev married. He’s not the kind of guy you’d spot standing at the altar in a black tux.
He shakes his head. “Ruth and Naomi are tight. Naomi’s trying to convince Ruth to pack up and move back to her own country because shit’s not going well for Naomi and she doesn’t want to suck Ruth into her mess. They’re family, they’ve made commitments to each other, so Ruth isn’t having it.”
He gives me a hard-eyed look at this. Am I supposed to be Naomi in this scenario?
“Ruth tells Naomi straight-up that Naomi’s stuck with her. Where Naomi goes, Ruth goes. Where Naomi stays, Ruth stays. Ruth vows she’s making Naomi’s people and Naomi’s gods her own.”
Color me confused. He must read that truth on my face, because he sighs, and keeps talking. “When someone patches into a club, he promises the club comes first, no matter what. And I’ve made those promises to Hard Riders. Won’t lie to you about that. But I’m making you a promise of my own—no matter how bad your situation gets, I’ve got your back. You count on me. I’m not free to ask you to be my old lady and wear my patch—too much shit between my club and your brother’s. But if I was looking for that kind of relationship, you’d be the woman I’d be looking for.”
“So I’m...Naomi?” Pretty sure my voice sounds slightly hysterical.
He nods. “And I’m sticking by you.”
I think about it. Nope. I’m still confused as hell.
“Not worried about the state of my soul,” he allows. “So never mind the Bible story. But I am worried about the state of your ass. It’s mine and you’re stuck with me. Made a promise to keep you safe, remember? Where you go, I’m going, so give me the address of today’s party.”
I give up trying to understand him.
“When did you read the Bible?”
He reaches around me to take the birthday party invitation Samantha silently extends from the RV. “My daddy was a pastor. Some of it stuck.”
“How about we try the explanations again, but without the metaphors?”
He just looks at me. Story of my life.
“Never mind,” I say. “I’m leaving. Stick or don’t stick. It’s your call.”