“We should go. Cops are going to show up.” Chad started to head for the street, and Moose went with him. “I’ll be in touch with Channing,” he added before they left. “We need to find out who got shot, if anyone.”
A guy running past us stopped. His chest heaved for breath, and he raked a hand through his hair. “It was two bikers from rival clubs. They saw each other, and one pulled a gun.”
“Are you serious?” Chad frowned.
The guy started to run off, but Chad grabbed him and hauled him back. The guy nodded. “Yeah.” His eyes were wild. “I saw it myself. I was smoking up.”
The sound of sirens had him jerking around to see where they were coming from. “I gotta go.” He pawed at Chad’s hand. “If they arrest me, they got more than just fighting on me, if you know what I mean. Let me go, man!”
Chad released him, and the guy scrambled, darting through people and disappearing into the crowd.
Sam pulled on my hand. “Let’s all go. We’re all okay.”
I heard the urgency in her voice and pressed a quick kiss to her forehead. Nodding to Chad and Moose again, we went our separate ways. Sam settled into the front seat and pulled out her phone as I started the engine.
Her phone buzzed a moment later as I turned down the street, and she let out a long sigh. “Thank God. Heather’s fine. She said she’ll call later.” She lifted relieved eyes to mine, giving me a shaky smile. “She’s okay. Everyone’s fine.”
SAMANTHA
Everyone was fine.
I kept telling myself this on the drive home, but had something been different, everyone might not have been fine. Someone could’ve been hurt. People I loved were somewhere that a gun was shot. A different person, maybe a different time, or even a different place, and we might not have been driving home with everyone. I couldn’t shake that thought, and maybe everyone else had it, too, but I didn’t want to sit around, have some drinks, and bullshit the night away. I didn’t want to hear Logan’s jokes or even sit in Mason’s stoic silence. I wanted touch, and I wanted to remember we were alive.
As if sensing my needs, Mason took my hand once we were home. Nothing was spoken, but we went to our room, which was exactly what I needed. My hands were on him the second the door shut. His mouth was on mine. He pressed me into the door, and the need was deep. It was primal. It was now.
I needed Mason now.
We made love like we were never going to be able to touch again.
I arched underneath him as he slid inside of me, but even that wasn’t enough. I needed more, and Mason began to thrust. Deeper and deeper. He kept a hand on my waist to anchor me, but I wanted his hands all over me. I wanted his mouth everywhere. I needed so much more than what he was giving, and as if sensing that, he pulled out. My eyes snapped to his. What was he doing?
He turned me over, and I gasped, pressing an arm against the headboard. My hand wrapped over its edge, because I was going to have to hold on. I felt him behind me, and then he was inside.
I was alive.
I was awake.
God, this was exactly what I’d been yearning for.
He set the pace. It was a medium rhythm at first, something I would normally love and gasp for, but I groaned. My head fell back. His hands caught some of my hair, and he wrapped it around his hand. Yes! My breasts began to graze the headboard. He pulled my head back, just slightly, but I shifted back farther, pressing into him as he thrust inside of me. I met him hard as he kept moving. I could feel him. My walls tightened around him.
More. Still more.
I needed to feel pain. Maybe. Maybe it would help remind me we were alive even though someone had been shot tonight.
I looked back. I wanted him to see the hunger in me, and as he did, his eyes darkened. He began going harder.
Still more. Still harder.
“Mason!”
His hand flexed on my ass, and he slammed into me.
This was what I wanted—rough, savage. I wanted it so many different ways, so many different positions, and so many different times. I wanted to remember we weren’t dead. None of us. That gunshot hadn’t been intended for any of us.
We pounded this truth into my body, into my brain, and after we were both spent, I curled up next to him.
I still wanted that feeling out of my head—the moment I’d heard the gunshot and couldn’t get to Mason. But as his arms encircled me and his hand caressed my breast, I knew I’d never be free of it.
I could’ve lost one of my own tonight.
I slid from the bed a few hours later.
Mason was sleeping, and he rolled over as I moved. The arm that had been holding me now lay empty on the bed, his hand and fingers pointing toward me as if asking me to come back. I couldn’t.