Damon:A Bad Boy MC Romance Novel(50)

"So, Reign, you're what, 27? 28? I'm good at guessing ages," I said once  I'd calmed down enough to stand up straight. We were standing outside  the bar, enjoying the evening, so much warmer than I was used to up in  the Rockies.

He was smoking a cigarette; I was half-drunk and eying the cigarette  somewhat enviously. I'd been a smoker when I met Jeremy and, you guessed  it, had quit upon his suggestion. I enjoyed being a non-smoker, didn't  miss it much, but, hell, I'd broken all my other rules that night, and a  smoke sounded like as good a way to keep the train rolling as any.

It had been so long since someone asked me so many questions about  myself, seemed to care about the answers. Laughed at my jokes. Smiled at  me.

Don't I sound desperate as hell? Would it make it any better if I told  you that I wouldn't have been talking to him at all if he wasn't also so  damn handsome, as well as charming? I mean, this would be any girl's  dream regardless of the circumstances. That crooked, boyish grin, that  easy laugh … trust me, ladies, if you'd been in my shoes you'd hold your  judgement.

"Close, 29," he said. He seemed to notice where my eyes were lingering  and held his pack of cigarettes out to me; Parliaments, my old brand. It  was fate! I laughed as I felt my hand go up to the offered pack,  certainly not responding to any conscious demand from my brain. But why  not? I was feeling good; two drinks in, hamburger slowly digesting in my  stomach, a handsome man at my side, why not? I let him light the  cigarette for me, began to cough violently as soon as I took the first  drag.

"Been awhile?" he asked, eyebrows raised as he tried to hide amusement. I  let him off the hook, laughing at myself. God, it felt good to laugh.

"Five years," I croaked, smoke still streaming from my mouth and  nostrils. The second drag, though, went down okay, even if it felt a  little scratchy. By the third, I remembered how good a cigarette felt  combined with a few drinks. The fourth, I was considering buying my own  pack. But, I knew that was a dangerous path to go down, Jeremy or no  Jeremy. Smoking in 2015 seemed as stupid as drinking while pregnant. I  stubbed out the cigarette, only a little disappointed.

"He make you quit?" Reign suddenly asked, his smile fading as he brought  up Jeremy. I'd told him the bare minimum: cop husband, me on the run.  We'd changed the subject quickly. This wasn't the time or place to  linger on the past  –  even the very, very recent past.

The mere mention of "him" actually drove a cold stake through my heart,  made the night seem a little chillier, bristled the hair on my arms. I  wasn't safe yet. I was still in the States, not far enough away. I still  had my damn car. Maybe he already knew where I was … maybe he was headed  there right now … and I was, what, drinking and flirting with a stranger?  Real fucking smart, Gabriella. Just sit like a damn duck in a frozen  pond.

"Shit, sorry," Reign said, picking up on the change in my mood. "I didn't mean to drag you down."

"No, no, it's fine, you, uh, you gave me a little wake-up call is all," I  said, my words coming out slow and heavy as my brain imagined all the  horrible things that would happen when he found me. If he found me. When  he found me. If/when.

"You know, you don't have to be afraid of him, not here, at least," Reign said, cocking his head to the side.

"And why's that?" I asked, distracted by my own brain, barely even registering what he was saying.

"Just … trust me. Anyone like him, he'd not be welcome here. Cop or no  cop, he doesn't have any sway around these parts," Reign said, suddenly  moving a bit closer. I responded by backing up. You don't know Jeremy, I  thought.

"Really, I mean it. If you haven't figured it out yet, everyone in that  bar is looking out for each other. And we'll look out for you, too, if  you need us to," Reign said, his eyes seeming to grow deeper with each  word. I wanted to believe him, wanted to believe those gorgeous eyes,  but I'd just met him. And he'd just met me. He just wanted to get into  my pants, anyway.         

     



 

"Yeah, okay, well, I should probably … " I said, starting to turn away,  meaning to end this madness, go to my room, sleep until I was sober and  get back on the road. He stopped me, grasping my arm. Oh god, the feel  of his hand on my bicep … Jesus Christ. It was a light grip, not forceful,  but it sent shivers throughout my entire body, seemed like electricity  coursing through me.

"How'd you do that?" I blurted out, turning to face him, the alcohol  only adding the confusion I felt about my body's reaction to his touch.

When's the last time Jeremy grabbed your arm without leaving a bruise, I thought.

"Do what?" Reign said, cocking his head once more, his expression  increasingly concerned. I shook my head, as though I could physically  shed the feeling that his touch had left me with. A fluttering,  heart-racing feeling. A warm feeling.

A safe feeling. An exciting feeling.

"Nothing, nothing, I just … I drank too much," I said, pulling my arm away and rubbing at the spot he'd touched.

"No, you didn't. Something happened. After I mentioned him. You're  afraid, and you shouldn't be. Every moment you spend afraid of him is  another moment he wins," Reign said, our conversation no longer the  lighthearted frolic of getting-to-know-you it had been.

"Well, sorry, it's just all happening so quickly," I said, getting  defensive. "And I'm not safe. He could be tracking my car. I need to … I  need to get out of the States. I need a new car, and I need to get to  Mexico."

"We can get you a car," Reign said.

"Why? Why would you want to do that? Why are you even talking to me? Why  do you want to help me?" I asked, my mind trying to make sense of him.  This strange, stunning, charming, man before me, like another of the  day's bizarre gifts from God, who seemed to only want to help me. It  wasn't what I'd ever expected from life, to find kindness in a stranger.  Not, at least, since Jeremy had come into my life. "You just want to  bang me!"

Reign suddenly smiled, seeming almost like he was stifling laughter. My  heart fell. Of course he doesn't want to bang you, you fatass. He just  watched you scarf down a burger, and look at him! He's a goddamn God!  And you? You're … you're just a fat girl with a black eye.

"Well, you ain't too far off. I mean, there's a reason I bought you that  drink. But I want to help you because I know where you are. I been  there, too. Takes one to know one, as they say. I'd help you no matter  what. If I was lucky enough to get to see you in your birthday suit,  well … that'd just be a bonus for me," he said. His eyes told me that he  was being truthful. I blushed, now embarrassed, and more than a little  turned on by the idea of being naked with him.

I hadn't felt turned on in a long, long time.

And why shouldn't you feel turned on? He's hotter than Jeremy by a  country mile, and he's interested in you. Shit, Gabby, you better take  his hand right now and drag him straight to your motel room. If you  don't, you'll regret it forever. This is your clean break. Make it a  little dirty, why don't you? For once in your life …

Do what you want.

My heart was pounding, my face flushed. Was I really going to … was this  really … he kept looking at me, just looking, like I was a piece of pie he  wanted to slather in whipped cream, like I was worth looking at. I  could feel my pussy responding to his gaze, melting under his blue eyes …

"Come to my room," I said, the words flying from my mouth before I even  realized I was saying them. One hand automatically came to cover my lips  as they gaped open, a comical "o". Reign's eyebrows raised once more, a  grin coming over his face, shaking his head slightly.

"I don't think you thought that through," he said, as though speaking to  a foolish child. Which is exactly how I felt as I stood there blushing.

"I don't … I'm sorry … " I stuttered through my hands, just about ready to crawl under a rock from mortification.

"Don't apologize," Reign said, the grin fading from his face as he  looked at me, eyes slowly growing darker. "Unless you mean to take it  back."

He stepped closer to me, his hand coming up once more to my bicep, this  time stroking the flesh there softly, making my chest constrict, all the  air seeming to leave my body, my hair standing on end. I'm pretty sure I  made a sound, unintentionally, a soft mewling sound.

I didn't mean to take it back. I meant to take it further.

In a blind rush, I grabbed for him, acting on instinct alone, my palm  against the back of his neck, under the wisps of curling hair that fell  around his shoulders, pulling him in towards me until his lips landed on  mine. He tasted like sweet honey and whiskey and smoke and everything  free.