The club whores and the hoodrats knew the score. They were at the clubhouse as property of the Insurgents, and that was the way they wanted it. In exchange for keeping the clubhouse clean, fixing some of the meals, and servicing the brothers whenever any of them wanted, the women had the protection of the club, all the pot they could smoke and booze they could drink, and the kind of freedom they craved. The hoodrats knew the score as well, and even though they weren’t Insurgents’ property, they willingly came to the club’s parties to lose themselves in drink, drugs, and sex for a short while.
Axe loved the easy sex without pressure. Yeah, that was how he rolled, and it suited him just fine.
Until now. What the fuck?
He couldn’t get the woman in the celery-green dress out of his mind. The night they’d spent together had been absolutely wild. It was like she couldn’t get enough, like she was starving, and he was there to feed her cravings.
Her long, silky hair swishing across his body as she rode him drove him crazy. As he replayed the way her heavy tits jiggled as he slammed into her tight pussy from behind, and the feel of her incredibly soft lips peppering his taut skin with kisses, his cock hardened and strained against his blue jeans. The dark-haired sweetie did a fucking number on him, but he was still surprised that he couldn’t get her out of his mind, off his skin, or away from his dick.
“Feeling lonely?” a sultry voice purred. Long nails raked down his back.
He turned around and saw Lola, one of the club whores. Her green bikini top barely held in her tits, and her short skirt showed a glimpse of her curved ass cheeks.
“Hey, Lola.” Axe swiveled back to face the bar, his elbows on the counter.
“Hey, yourself. What are you doing all alone? Want some company?”
“Nah. I was just taking a break. It’s hot as Hell in the shop. Getting ready to go back.”
“I’m surprised you’re not with Rosie. She seems to be your favorite for the past few months. You haven’t been with me unless Rosie is there, too. I miss being alone with you.” Leaning in, she brushed her lips against his cheek and her tits against his arm.
Axe pushed her away. “I told you I have to get back to work.” Swinging his arm around, he added, “Find yourself another brother.”
Lola looked startled. He couldn’t blame her—he was startled, too. Did he really say that? He was turning down a good fucking with Lola? Something was definitely wrong with him.
Axe tossed back the rest of the beer in his bottle and stood up. “See you around.” He padded across the floor then walked out into the white heat of the day.
Chapter Five
An oppressive heat pushed in on Baylee as she left the cool confines of her car. The colorful flowers in large, mosaic planters and the elm trees surrounding the hotel stood still in the July heat. The dry, mountain air—thin and scorching—made her feel claustrophobic, like a mouse trapped in a shoe box. She hurried up the steps, seeking refuge inside the hotel lobby.
The cold AC slapped her face as soon as she flung open the glass doors, stealing her breath. If not for that, the first thing Baylee would have noticed was the four-story chandelier dangling over the atrium of the elegant hotel. Stained glass windows from when the Palace Hotel was first built in the late 1800s reflected their patterns on the marble floor, a kaleidoscope of color and brilliance.
Okay—maybe Pinewood Springs wouldn’t be so bad…
After registering, Baylee picked up her tote bag and headed toward the elevators. Glancing around the bustling lobby, she scanned the crowd to see if Logan’s face would be among them. She was sure he was staying at the same hotel, although she secretly prayed the firm had put them in different ones.
“Baylee.” Logan’s chipper voice bounced off the marble walls.
Damn. “Logan.” She turned around and greeted him with a thin smile.
“What room number do you have?”
“I’m on the fifth floor.” She turned the keycard over. “Number five thirty-seven. I didn’t notice you when I checked in.”
“I’ve been here for about an hour. I came up a little early. I had to wait for my room to be ready, so I was hanging out in the bar.” He ran his hand through his short, brown hair. “I think we’re neighbors. My room is five thirty-eight.” He smiled.
Damnit. “Great. Well, that’ll make it convenient if we have to work after hours.”
He nodded. An awkward silence ensued as Logan stared at Baylee while she brushed imaginary lint off her cotton knit top.
Picking up her tote, she said, “I’m going to head upstairs. I want to settle in. See you around.” She turned to the elevators and pushed the button, praying the door would open quickly.