Take Me, Outlaw(68)

So the absolute last thing I need right now is to go all gooey and fall in love, especially with someone who isn't part of this life and can't begin to understand it.



But what was she doing there? I had never allowed myself to seriously believe in God or fate or anything like that. But tonight, somehow, the only non-Reaper who I'd been able to really care about in years—the only one who could erase the pain of Kong's death for me all those weeks ago, if only for one night—had suddenly appeared in my life again like magic. And weirder still, in a city full of gangs and random violence, she'd been attacked by the same goons who had it out for the Reapers.



Part of me actually wondered whether the Bonaccorsos knew about her connection with me somehow, and had singled her out. It seemed a little paranoid—but not impossible. They could have been watching me that night at the Devil's Nest when they bushwhacked Growler. Maybe they took some pictures, did some digging, and figured out who she was and where she'd be tonight. She was an actress, after all—no, an “actor,” she hates being called an actress—and determining her identity would have been easier than it would for most people.



But that makes no sense. Because first of all, Frankie Caserta had been exactly where we were tipped off that he would be. It was his weekly poker game, and he was known for hanging around outside afterward and shooting the shit with the other guys.



And second, if they could do all that to find Lauren and suss out her identity, they could have easily grabbed her a lot sooner over these past few weeks.



And then I'd have been getting pieces of her sent to me along with Growler's.



That image in my head sent a violent shudder through my whole body.



When it came to this kind of stuff, Bard had a saying. “I believe in coincidences, because I know they happen every day. But I certainly don't trust them.”



So if it wasn't coincidence that brought us together again tonight and it wasn't some play the Bonaccorsos were making, what was it?



Maybe fate is a real thing after all. Maybe it just keeps on knocking until we finally decide to open the door to it.



As if on cue, the door to the bathroom opened and Lauren stood there with a pink towel wrapped around her, framed by billowing clouds of steam. Her hair was damp and clinging to her neck, and the droplets forming on her face reminded me of the morning dew I used to see when the Reapers slept out under the stars during a run. She was very pale and she'd clearly been through a lot, but she was still gorgeous.



Without a word, Lauren walked over to the couch and sat on it, drawing her knees up to her chest and hugging them. She was shaking despite the hot shower she'd taken, and her teeth were chattering. She noticed that I was looking at her, and forced a laugh. “Yeah, sorry, I've actually, um...never...been...shot at before...”



Suddenly, she completely fell apart in front of me, crying loudly. I went to sit next to her, wrapping my arms around her shaking shoulders and holding her tight. I've never been good at comforting women before, and I hoped I was doing it right. All I could think to do was keep patting her on the shoulder and whispering, “It's okay, don't worry, everything's okay” over and over. I felt pretty goddamn silly doing it, but it seemed to help her calm down.



“Those men were going to hurt me,” she said through a series of hitching sobs.



“I know,” I said, “but they won't hurt you or anyone else ever again.”



“Thank you,” she breathed, and I felt her tears soaking through my t-shirt. “Thank you, thank you.”



“Hey, I'll never let anyone hurt you, baby,” I answered, stroking her wet hair. Jesus, what the hell am I promising her that for? Am I supposed to be her bodyguard or her boyfriend from now on with everything else that's going on?



But I knew that I couldn't take it back, and what's more, I knew I didn’t want to. It was a promise I meant to keep.



Lauren wrapped her arms around my neck and looked at me with red-rimmed eyes, sniffling. “Do you really mean that, Nic? Do you promise you’ll protect me?”



“Do you know what you're asking?” I whispered hoarsely. I was thinking about all of the fights and shoot-outs I'd had since joining the Reapers and wondering if she really felt like she could stay safe and sane if she were regularly involved with that stuff. Most people couldn't, after all. Why should she be any different?



She leaned in close, her lips inches away from mine. “I know what I'm asking. I’m asking for us to be together,” she replied, wiping away a tear. “I feel like I could handle anything if I knew you were there to keep me safe.”



No one had ever said anything like that to me before. Plenty of wild chicks who were into the whole biker thing had tried to propose to me over the years, desperate to become my old lady and achieve a position of respect and stability within the Reapers. They were hot and they knew the score, but none of them had ever really depended on me or wanted to get close to me. I'd known that they were basically whores and party girls who couldn't be trusted if things went bad.



But looking into Lauren's eyes, I could let myself believe that she meant every word she said. Even though she barely knew me, it was clear that she cared about me and wanted to be close to me, even if it meant taking risks.



I didn't know whether she'd still feel that way if I let her get close enough to see more of the ugly side of my world. But at that moment, I didn't care. I just knew that I wanted her more than I'd ever wanted anyone.



I leaned forward and kissed her.





Chapter Eighteen



Lauren



Our lips met, our tongues rushing to embrace each other like long-lost lovers. My damp palms caressed his face and shoulders, and I pressed my body against his, desperate for the shelter it provided. His hands were on me too, moving beneath the loose towel draped around me. It came undone and he pulled it away, tossing it aside to reveal my wet and naked body.



Nic stood, and for a terrible moment, I thought he was having second thoughts about us. I knew that I had asked a lot of him, and even though he might agree in the heat of the moment, it would be easy for him to reconsider once the meaning of it really sank in. After all, aren't bikers supposed to be obsessed with freedom and not getting tied down? In his promise to protect me, he had tied himself to me.



But instead, Nic leaned down and slid his muscular arms under my knees and behind my back, picking me up and cradling me as though I were weightless. I had never felt so safe in my life.



I'd meant what I'd said to him. Even though the violence I'd seen earlier tonight shocked me and made me sick to my stomach, it still somehow felt more right to me than the time I'd spent without Nic. I didn't want to be without him for another moment. And if that led to more shoot-outs and high-speed chases, well, maybe it wouldn't be what I was used to, but it would be better than an empty bed every night and memories of one night of happiness. I felt like I could endure any pain, any fear, anything life could throw at me, if it meant knowing that Nic would be there to take care of me.



Nic carried me into the small bedroom and lowered me to the full-sized mattress. He pulled off his shirt and threw it onto the floor, then bent to his knees at the foot of the bed and gently pushed my knees apart.



He went down on me, and this time, the remains of the evening's adrenaline rush made it even more intense than it had been on Christmas. His tongue's steady and insistent rhythm made me ache with delight. I could feel his fingers pushing inside me, locating the soft and willing wall of my G-spot and stroking it so hard I was sure that I would pass out from the pleasure. I arched my back and let a moan escape my lips. My voice was so ragged and husky in my throat that I barely recognized the sound of it. My lower body vibrated as I climaxed, and I heard a sound of satisfaction from between my legs as Nic realized the happiness he'd given me.



Nic stood up and moved to lie down next to me on the bed, but his fingers remained inside of me. Their pace quickened, thrusting deeper and deeper inside of me each time until it seemed like he'd shove them through the wall of my uterus and all the way up into my belly. He put his other arm around me and I pressed against him again hungrily, gripping him tightly and hoping he would never let go. He kissed me deeply, his hand's middle and ring fingers continuing to explore every inch of my pussy as his thumb pressed against my clit and rubbed it urgently in a circular motion. My gasps drew in tighter and tighter, and I knew that soon I'd scream whether I wanted to or not.



Suddenly, I felt a strange sensation I'd never experienced during sex before, almost as though I had to pee without warning. A split-second later, a tsunami of warm fluid sprayed from me in a hot gush, drenching Nic's hand. For a mortifying moment, I actually thought I had somehow peed myself during sex, and wanted to curl up and die. But then I realized that what was coming out of me was something else—a thinner fluid with a cleaner scent.



Oh my God, I just squirted. No one has ever made me do that before.



The clear juices were gleaming on my inner thighs and the sheet beneath me was soaked. I was trembling all over. Nic withdrew his hand and undid his belt and zipper. He wriggled out of his jeans and boxers and threw them over the side of the bed. Then he settled back against the mattress as though waiting for me to mount him like I had the first time. His cock was erect and pointed toward the ceiling like a compass displaying true north.