Skyler runs her hand across Crusher’s shoulder as she walks away, but he doesn’t react. He’s pissed. I get it, I’m an asshole.
Within minutes a waitress steps out of the kitchen, locking eyes with mine. I’ve seen her here before but never paid much attention. Nothing about her screamed fuck me and leave before dawn, which is the only girl I waste time on these days. I don’t have the patience for the bullshit that comes with an Ol’ lady and no time for someone who will ask me to choose between pussy and my club. The latter will always win, there’s plenty of the other that comes with no strings attached.
My eyes roam the length of her body and drift back up to land on her tits where her name tag sits. She’s not what I remember. I silently take her in. Her eyes of hazel and honey threaten to draw me into the turmoil behind them, the current of mistrust and pain unmistakable. Dark and messy curls bounce around her face, exposing her neck. She’s wearing a white button-up shirt with the cuffs of the sleeves rolled up to her elbows. The buttons are open in the front with the ends drawn tight at her waist and tied in a knot. Paired with black shorts and boots, the woman looks sexy as hell.
The connection between us only lasts a fraction of a second but in that brief time electric pulses short circuit my impulses. My eyes follow her as she turns away. She grabs a small bag from under the bar and hastily makes her way toward the door.
Only the guilty run. This girl has something to hide.
I bolt from the seat, closing in on her before she escapes. Convincing myself, the urgency tugging at my gut is because she might know where Fuel is not because her exit sucked the charge out of the room. I wrap my hand around her wrist and spin her around to face me. “Where are you going?”
“That’s none of your damn business.” Raven’s eyes are wide. Fear blended with a primal need to fight. It’s an expression I’ve seen a dozen times. Right before strangling the life out of someone with the cold, twisted steel of my chains. I’ve never had to see that look in a woman’s eyes before. I pray to the biker gods she tells me what she knows, so I won’t have too now. “Get your hands off of me.”
My hand is rough around her slender wrist, I loosen my grip before it snaps in two. I want her scared. No, I want her terrified. So why is my heart stuck in my throat? I swallow hard, pushing the unexplainable emotion down. “Were you a blonde last night?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. What the hell is your problem?” She cuts her gaze, searching for a way to escape. I extend my arm, pinning her between my body and the door.
“My brother Fuel is a sucker for blondes, and I hear he went home with a waitress named Raven last night.” Using my free hand, I flick my finger against the name tag on her chest then trail my fingertips up her neck until my hand twists in her hair. “But this look is more my style.”
That look flashes in her eyes again, streaks of green swirling with the soft brown hue. Her brows lift, and she cocks her head to the other side, “Are you kidding me? I’m not sure if you’re insinuating something or hitting on me?”
Raven squirms and I like the way her body practically vibrates with fear in her haste to get away, but I refuse to let her go. The flustered blush on her cheeks is hot as fuck and has my cock standing at attention. I force my hips against her, blatantly letting her feel my hard cock press against her thigh. “Maybe a little of both.”
“Listen carefully, I’m not one of your patch whores.” She lays her hand over mine until my grip loosens. “I wasn’t with Fuel last night and I won’t be with you either. So, back the fuck off.”
Good lord, that mouth is as hot as the rest of her body. Challenge accepted.
She slides under my arm and yanks the adjoining door open, disappearing from view as it swings closed. I turn around, adjusting the front of my pants.
“Did she give up anything?” Tank asks, slopping ketchup on a French fry from the plate still on the table and pops it into his mouth.
“Nothing useful. Let’s roll.”
Tank, Cobra, Crusher, Hound and Freedom stand to leave. Crusher steals a glance in Skyler’s direction. She stops wiping down the table and places her manicured hand on his chest, being careful not to touch the leather. “Can I see you later?”
He removes her hand, “Don’t know. Club business comes first.”
She looks disappointed, but if she stands any chance at becoming his property, it’s something she’ll have to get used to. She likes attention too much, I doubt she’ll ever be able to accept being second to the club.
