Risky and Wild(25)
“Not much,” I say with a knowing smile. “She just basically called me an idiot when I told her we were dating.”
“Don't mind her,” Glacier says, pausing in the middle of the room and glancing over at us, those stupid kitten pajama pants still on. Dragging unconscious rivals around, discussing club secrets and torture, getting blood smeared across his white tank, none of that seems to bother the guy as he comes over to us and pauses, his arms colorful swirls of tattoos, his face dotted with silver piercings. “She's just used to all the housewives that come into the garage to flirt with the boys.” He smiles at me, but I feel like the expression comes with a price. Glacier stares at me with pale eyes that seem to dig deep, giving me the eerie feeling of being hunted. Dear God. “Once she realizes that dragging a mayor's daughter into the mix is worth a hundred times more trouble than an easy fuck's worth, she'll lay off.”
“Bugger off, Saint,” Royal says, as I raise my brows. Saint? The guy's name is Saint? His parents must've had a strange sense of humor. “Don't you have business to attend to?”
“Sure thing, Pres,” he says, giving me another look before turning away and heading out the front door, whistling something under his breath. Royal gives me an apologetic look before offering his hand. I take it and slide off the metal of the stool, grateful that it looks like we're finally getting out of here.
“Set up something for this weekend at your place, Dober,” Royal tells him, smiling wickedly as he give his friend a penetrating look, one that says volumes more than words ever could. “Invite everyone. I have a special announcement to make.”
I shiver, glancing up at Royal's face.
I'm not usually a betting woman, but if I had to put money on something, I'd say that special announcement, it has everything to do with me.
Royal takes me straight back to his place in the truck, eyeing his bike on the way out of the clubhouse with a longing that makes me smile. Maybe he can tell I'm too tired to ride two up with him, getting me situated in that warm cab with Evans Blue playing on the speakers. By the time we get to his house, I'm already asleep.
When I wake up in the morning, I have vague memories of Royal carrying me inside and tucking me into his big wooden bed, the navy blue sheets saturated with his scent. When I pull them up to my face, I feel like I'm drowning in him in the best way possible. Behind me, I can feel the warmth of Royal's body pressed against me, one muscular arm around my waist, the other beneath his pillow.
Carefully, I extract myself from the bed and pad quietly down the hall into the kitchen. The clock above the stove says it's six-thirty in the morning. My eyes are sticky, my limbs heavy and tired, but at least I feel better knowing my internal alarm clock is still in working order.
With a yawn, I lift my arms above my head and watch the gray drizzle falling outside the window, coating everything with beads of moisture as the wind picks up and tousles the sea grasses in Royal's backyard. In the quiet early morning like this, I can almost pretend that last night didn't even happen, that I wasn't involved in yet another activity so illegal that not only could it ruin my career but also my entire life.
I sigh and get a glass from the cabinet near the sink, pleased to see that although Royal's cabinets aren't labeled, they're in relatively decent order. Impressive. Oh, and he doesn't just have plastic cups. My last boyfriend, that's all he had, and I hate drinking out of plastic. I know it sounds weird, but I just don't like it.
With a sardonic smile and a shake of my head, I fill the glass with water from the fridge and head down the hall and past the guest bathroom; it has all the original touches of a typical Victorian house—clawfoot tub, porcelain pedestal sink, and white subway tiles. It all looks shiny and new and cared for, like Royal spent just as much time polishing this up as he did the woodwork.
My derisive smile turns real as my bare feet whisper down the hall and sneak back into the bedroom, slipping carefully into the second bathroom with its modern glass shower, soapstone vanity, and heated floors. It must be an add on because it's nothing like the other.
I pause for a moment, my heart swelling with affection as I stand in the doorway to watch Royal's sleeping face. He's rolled onto his back, his shirtless upper body visible above the crumpled sheets, that banner across his chest with the skulls, roses and pistols adorning rock-hard muscle. It's crazy; I've never dated anyone as in shape as Royal and … wow. Just wow. Just the feel of him pressed against me is almost enough to bring me to orgasm.
I bite my lower lip and duck back into the bathroom, closing the door behind me and looking around at the scattered items on the counter. There's a razor, some shaving cream, a stick of deodorant, toothpaste, a toothbrush. I poke around, opening the medicine cabinet and taking stock of what's inside. You can tell a lot about a person based on what's in there. Royal's is fairly normal, with a few extra medical supplies than one might expect. I push aside a first aid kit and find some condoms, feeling my face pull down in a frown. Does he bring girls back here? I wonder as I stare at them and then close the mirrored door.