“That makes total sense. I mean, what sweet, straight-laced girl like this is going to be getting in your bed,” Rhys remarked, his blue eyes twinkling with amusement as he twirled the diamond stud in his ear.
We all gazed down at the girl. Nope, she was definitely not groupie material like Bree. She reminded me of Brayden’s wife, Lily. They’d been high school sweethearts, and somehow their relationship had survived the last eight years of craziness as our band moved from the garage to the biggest arenas in the country.
Scratching the dark stubble on his chin, AJ grinned wickedly. “Hmm, with the sundress and headband, she’s kinda got a Sookie Stackhouse/True Blood look going on. Pure but sexy as hell.”
Rhys wrinkled his nose and shook his dirty blonde head. “Oh hell no. She’s a hundred times hotter in the face than Sookie!” He motioned to the angel’s cleavage. “And damn, look at that rack.”
Brayden grunted in frustration. “Guys, could you stop thinking with your dicks for one minute, and focus on the fact we’ve got a poor, helpless girl passed out on the floor!”
“You’ve been married too long, Bray,” I mused, continuing to take in the blonde’s features. She had felt like heaven pressed up against me. Well, until she’d cock-blocked me rather painfully.
At her moan, we all jumped back like we’d been caught doing something we shouldn’t have. She blinked her eyes a few times, bringing her hand to her forehead. Her brows furrowed as she rubbed her fingertips into her hairline. Then her eyes flew open, and she stared up at us. Her face crumpled with mortification. “Oh God, it wasn’t a nightmare.”
AJ laughed. “Ya know, chicks are usually a lot more stoked about meeting us than you are.”
Her dark blue eyes widened. “Oh, I’m sorry if I sounded rude. I didn’t mean that how it came out.”
I crossed my arms over my chest. “Kneeing me in the junk was rude, babe.”
She cocked her head to the side and gave me a death glare before pulling herself into a sitting position. “You wouldn’t stop molesting me. What else was I supposed to do?” she snapped.
Brayden bristled as he closed the gap between us. “Somehow you managed to leave that tidbit out of your story.”
AJ extended his hand. “Come on, Sookie, let’s get you up off that dirty floor.”
She gave him a puzzled look. “But my name’s not Sookie. It’s Abigail—well, Abby.”
Once AJ pulled her up, she fell against his chest, trying to steady herself. I rolled my eyes when he seemed to get a little too much enjoyment out of her pressed against him as her hands fisted his shirt for balance.
Brayden must’ve realized it too because he took Abby by the arm. “Come on over here and have a seat.” He motioned toward one of the captain’s chairs.
“Did you have fun feelin’ her up, dickhead?” I hissed to AJ.
He grinned. “It was a little piece of Heaven right here.” He closed his eyes and swept his hand to his heart. “Diablo linda, esas tetas se sienten increible. Me gustaria metertelo hasta que estes gritando.”
Abby froze in front of us. She jerked away from Brayden and whirled around. “¡Ni te lo pienses sucio!”
AJ’s eyes popped open, and his brows shot up in shock. “How the hell do you know Spanish?”
“My parents were missionaries. I spent most of my early years abroad—Mexico, Central America, and Brazil. My Portuguese isn’t as good as my Spanish though.” She cocked her head at AJ. “¡Pendejo!”
“Ha! I am an asshole for saying that!” He roared with laughed. “My apologies, Sookie—I mean, Abby.” He then thrust out one of his hands. “I’m Alejandro Joaquin Resendiz, otherwise known as AJ—drummer extraordinaire of Runaway Train and your potential Latin lova.”
Abby grinned as she reached out to shake his hand. “Abby Renard.”
AJ’s dark eyes widened. “No shit—Renard, like Renard Parish in True Blood? See you could totally be Sookie!”
“Quite a charmer, aren’t you AJ?” Abby questioned with a giggle.
“Anything for you, mi amor. I mean, do you know what a fucking turn-on it is to hear fluent Spanish coming off a pair of lips like yours?” His eyes rolled back in his head with delight.
“No, but I’m sure you’re going to elaborate for me, right?”
I couldn’t help snickering. The more Abby/Hell’s Angel spoke the more I started to dig her. She wasn’t star-struck by us, and she gave as good as she got—my sore balls were testimony of that.
Rhys stepped forward and offered Abby his hand. “I’m Rhys McGowan—bassist and if you’re looking for a real man, a much better choice than that douchebag.” He jerked his thumb at AJ.