Outlaw's Promise(25)

One girl blinked at me. “Oh my God.”

“I like your dress,” the other one said, smirking. “Did you make it yourself?”

I felt myself redden. For a little while, riding around on the back of Carrick’s bike, I’d felt proud, almost like some biker girlfriend. Now I was back to feeling like I had in high school: a freak. I’d developed a thick skin as a waitress and normally it wouldn’t have bothered me but, after everything I’d been through in the last twenty-four hours, it was the final straw. I blinked, the room suddenly blurring….

Then I heard the thump of heavy boots behind me. Carrick stopped next to me, his shoulder almost touching mine. He didn’t speak to the girls. He just looked at them.

I watched as both of them went pale under their perfect tans. They stared at me uncomprehendingly, as if praying they were wrong.

Carrick put a hand on my shoulder.

One of the girls whispered, “Oh shit.”

I saw the other girl gulp. She’d started to sweat, despite the store’s air conditioning. “We didn’t know,” she croaked. “We had no idea. I’m so sorry!”

Carrick kept them pinned with his gaze for another few seconds. Both of them looked as if they were going to throw up. Then he jerked his head towards the door and they fled, dropping the clothes they’d been carrying in their arms.

I stood there for a second, open-mouthed. The hand on my shoulder felt good. The idea that I was under his protection felt fantastic. But...was this how he was seen around town? People were terrified of him? I remembered how the Blood Spiders’ President had reacted to him, too. Whatever reputation he had, it carried between towns. He was feared.

I turned to look at him. He was gazing back down at me with a sorrowful look on his face.

This was why he kept pushing me away. His reputation...and whatever it stemmed from. I knew I should be grateful to him but all I could think was how lonely it must be, to be that feared.

I looked down at the clothes in my arms. “I can’t pay you for any of this,” I said awkwardly. “I mean, I’ll pay you back, when I have the money….”

Carrick just looked at me like I was being silly. “If you ever owe me anything,” he told me, “I’ll let you know.”

He paid for the clothes and I ducked into a fitting room to change into the jeans and a tank top. It was a relief to be in sneakers again after the heels. I felt like me again. Although, for just a second, I sort of missed the low cut, tight dress. The way Carrick had looked at me had been a thrill.

I sighed and stepped out of the changing room. And stopped.

Carrick was right outside, his arms folded across his chest, biceps bulging as he looked at me. I felt his gaze like a desert wind, scorching my face and then gliding down over my neck, my breasts, the swell of my hips.

It hadn’t been about the clothes.

And that lit a warm glow in me, right in my chest, even as the heat soaked down to my groin.

“C’mon,” he said. “We’d better get to the clubhouse.” For a second, he seemed to have forgotten to be gruff with me. His voice was surprisingly gentle, like a bike engine just barely idling. Each throb, each syllable, was low but powerful, resonating through my entire body.#p#分页标题#e#

Getting back onto the Harley was easier, without the dress’s long skirt. And I was modest, now, without all the leg showing: it shouldn’t have felt like anything at all. Just two...friends on a bike together. But in my new, tight jeans, I seemed to be able to feel the hardness of his ass all the better on my inner thighs. And when I leaned forward and wrapped my arms around him, I discovered that the cotton tank top really wasn’t very thick: I could feel the heat of him through his leather cut, follow the motion of his back as he breathed. If I held my breath, I could feel his heartbeat.

And I knew it wouldn’t matter if I was wearing freakin’ hockey padding. Riding with him was never going to feel like we were just friends, because we weren’t.

We roared down the town’s main street, the wind playing with my hair, the sun’s warmth soaking into my bare arms. People turned and looked: some of them nodded to Carrick, most looked nervous and quickly turned away. But no one was indifferent. As someone who’d spent her entire life living in the background, I couldn’t imagine what it must be like to have everyone know you.

We cruised to a stop in front of a big, sliding metal gate with razor wire looped along the top. Through the mesh I could see a long, low building with a neon sign atop it and bars on the windows. A couple of oil drums seemed to be on fire and there were bikers everywhere. My arms tightened in fear around Carrick’s waist. We’re going in there?