Needing Me, Wanting You(25)

“Military?” I whisper because I've never seen anyone but Oren move like this. I know he served a stint in the U.S. Army when he was younger. I don't wish and pray and hope that he made it out okay. I feel terrible because Oren is family, and I would die for him if I had to, but … whatever happened, happened right? I know he wants me as his old lady. It's just a matter of time before he gets the nerves to announce that to my brother.

“How ever did you guess?” Beck murmurs, sliding his fingers down my arm and pulling the gun away. I notice that his eyes travel down between us, towards the stiff bulge in his pants. I sniff and raise my chin up, trying to be strong, trying to get through this as best I can. Beck's green eyes snap right back up to mine, two emerald orbs shimmering with false amusement. He was hurting earlier, and there's no way all of that pain and worry disappeared. It's a good front, but I see straight through it.

“What are you going to do to me now?” I ask, swallowing hard. Beck shakes his head and looks around, tucking his gun under his shirt about a half-second before heads appear around the side of the diner. Shit. I scramble to pull my jeans back on and Beck lets me, raising his hand to the curious faces of folks with cellphones clutched in their fingers.

“Lovers' quarrel, ladies and gentleman. Nothing to see here.” I button up my jeans and force myself to breathe through my nose. Beck slides his arm around my waist and I close my eyes tight. “Relax, Tease. I told you, I'm not going to hurt you. That's not my goal here. You play nice; I play nice.” He kisses my ear, and unwanted shivers crawl across my skin. Did I open up a can of worms by having sex with him? What if he forces himself on me? I open my eyes up. I'll do what I have to do here, no matter what.

I glance over at Beck and then at the mutilated minivan.

“Damn near sure we've worn out our welcome here. Hop on the bike, babe, and let's go. We'll find somewhere else to eat.” Beck motions for me to move ahead of him, and I hesitate, watching the people around us, weighing my options. I don't know what the club did back there, and even though I don't believe Beck's story about a rooftop gunman, I can't get the police involved. If I run to one of these people and beg for their help, that's what's going to happen.

I nod my head and start walking, pausing only to bend down and grab my jacket, feet sore on the rough gravel of the parking lot. Beck moves along behind me, shadowing me but not touching. When we get to his bike and climb on, his warm body nestled against mine, feelings roar up deep inside of me. Feelings that I clamp down on, push back and ignore.

I'm good at that. I've always been good at that.

Maybe that's my problem?





Tease

Chapter 12

The rumble of the road and the press of Beck's body makes me want to go to sleep, to nap right there in his arms with the wind blasting my face and yanking my red hair back. Such a traitor, I think to myself. And not just to the club, but also to me, personally. I am not as bothered by being kidnapped as I should be. I was willing to wager my body to get the advantage here, and now? I've become complacent. I don't focus on the throb of heat between my legs, the wetness that persists even now. That's the last thing I need to worry about. I'll deal with that later, with the fact that we didn't use a condom and any number of things that could mean.

Another hour down the road, with the sun nearing its descent in the sky, we stop at another restaurant. Beck climbs off before me and has his cell immediately in hand, waiting with bated breath for an answer. I examine him in the harsh white wash of the parking lot lights. He's managed to wipe most of the blood away, but his red T-shirt is crusted with it underneath his leather vest. I don't know how he expects to walk into the restaurant without anybody taking notice of either him or me. I am now the girl with no shoes on.

A smile tweaks my face.

Who's watching me, I wonder? Who's looking at me and wondering where I've been, why I look the way I look?

I continue to watch Beck, using my people-watching skills to take in all his details. There's a fine brush of red stubble across his chin, enough to give him a rough, unpolished look that's at odds with the constant smile on his sensual mouth. Those green eyes, so like mine, but yet so different. The color is remarkably similar, but Beck has the weight of experience in his gaze. I'm sure mine is sheltered and unremarkable, but jaded, too. I think I'm fairly unique in that aspect. A girl who grew up in a motorcycle club, saw things she shouldn't see, heard things she never wanted to hear, but who was also kept. I'm kept, a kept woman.

My eyes trail down Beck's neck, to his wide chest, his round shoulders and the rolling curve of bicep that emerges from his shirt sleeves. His arms are covered in tattoos, all black and gray, mostly reapers and skulls. There are a few words scattered here and there, an eagle. But that's about all I can make out. I keep my examination moving downwards, over his fingers, and I get horribly vivid flashbacks of his hand cupping my ass, his cock spreading me wide and slipping deep inside.