Biker's Bride: A Bad Boy Romance (Demons MC) (Includes bonus novel Kinged!) (27 page)

“It’s complicated,” he replied after the bartender came back with another whiskey and Coke.

“What do you mean, it’s complicated?”

He grunted again, and finished off his beer in three large gulps. When he banged the empty glass onto the wood, the bartender returned with a refill for him. I had never seen something like that happen, let alone in a relatively crowded bar, but Rex was obviously some kind of regular there. I guessed he had status.

He shrugged. “It’s complicated. That’s all it means.”

I looked at him again, and saw something there I couldn’t define yet. He was obviously a part of this world, but it somehow didn’t define him. He wasn’t like Tadd, but he was in the same situation as guys like Tadd. I didn’t understand what he was doing at that bar, drinking like a regular, and what his complicated job was. But I felt something inside of me suddenly need to find out.

We let the silence grow between us for another minute, before he finally spoke.

“What do you do?” he asked.

“I work for Adstrigo, doing marketing stuff.”

He looked interested. “Shane Green’s company, right?”

I nodded. “Yep, the one and only.”

“Have you ever met him?”

“Sure, everyone meets him at least once. He also happens to be dating by best friend. Well, engaged now.”

I couldn’t read the look on his face. “That’s cool,” he said, and let it drop.

“You’re not exactly a talker, are you?” I said after another short silence. I felt like I was pulling teeth.

He grunted in return and smiled.

“Yeah, exactly,” I teased.

He grinned wickedly. “You talk enough for the both of us.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I said, a little annoyed.

“Nothing at all. Just because I don’t talk a lot, doesn’t mean I have nothing to say.”

I cocked an eyebrow. “And what do you have to say now?”

“Just trying to figure you out.”

“And what do you think?”

He moved a few inches closer, and I felt a thrill in my chest.

“I think you’re pretty and you’re not used to hearing ‘no.’ I think you grew up rich and you don’t know what you’re doing. I think you’re bored and lost.”

My breath caught in my chest. I realized how accurate he was, how really lost I had been feeling ever since moving to Philadelphia, and how bored I was with my life. I craved excitement and something other than the normal, easy existence I had been leading. I needed something or someone to give me purpose, something to elevate me beyond the drudgery of my normal waking hours.

“Is that what you’re looking for? Some excitement?” I asked quietly.

He laughed. “No, not at all. I’ve had enough excitement to last a lifetime.”

I looked him up and down. “I have to say, I’m a little surprised.”

He grinned wickedly again. “I’m full of surprises, Darcy.” He slammed back the last of his drink and looked at me expectantly. I wanted to argue, but there was a devilish look in his eye, like a mischievous child. I picked up my drink and drank it as fast as I could. The cold soda and whiskey mixed into my stomach, warming me up and freezing my head. I felt a little fuzzy and happy.

“See, that’s what I thought,” he said.

He ordered us two more drinks, and I had a feeling I already knew where the night was headed.

W
e spent the next two hours slowly getting drunk together. He didn’t seem to be in any rush, but he wasn’t exactly taking it easy on the drinks. I asked him questions, and sometimes he answered them. Mostly, he talked about the people in the bar. He told me about Jimmy Jay, how he lost his eye in the Vietnam War, and about Tadd. He never went into specifics, but he talked a lot about ‘jobs’ and ‘tasks.’ He kept it all vague and mysterious, and whenever I tried to press for more information about him, he either ignored me, or changed the subject. I was getting frustrated, and I was getting drunk.

We ordered more drinks, and after the bartender put them in front of us and walked away, I dropped my hand onto his thigh. I could feel the thick denim of his jean shorts and the powerful, solid muscles of his leg. He let out a small growl and looked at me, his eyes suddenly full of a passion I hadn’t seen out of him yet.

“You’re a fucking sexy girl, Darcy,” he said quietly, his voice full of gravel and bass. I had to lean in to hear him.

“You think so?” I asked, trying to play it cool. Inwardly, I felt my excitement grow.

“And I think you know it, too,” he answered, his grin coming back.

I went to pull my hand away, but he covered it with his before I could move. He was fast, and his large hand engulfed mine. His skin was calloused and hard, like he was used to manual labor, and his knuckles looked red and bruised. My eyes widened a bit as I looked at his injuries. His grin turned into a sly smile.

“I didn’t say you should stop,” he whispered.

“What happened to your knuckles?” I asked, not sure what else to say.

His smiled widened. “Come with me.”

“Where are we going?”

He stood, still holding my hand. He nodded to the bartender, who nodded back. He started to lead me by the hand toward the back of the bar, passed the pool tables, and headed toward the bathrooms.

“Where are we going?” I asked again. He looked back and grunted, his face serious, and his eyes filled with passion. I knew I should probably stop him, but there wasn’t a single part of me that really wanted to turn back.

He pulled me around a corner, and pushed the door to the men’s room open. There was a guy washing his hands at the sink as Rex pulled me into the room.

“Out,” Rex said to the guy. There was a beat, and then the guy nodded, and left. I was shocked at his audacity, but also at the guy’s willingness to obey. There was something magnetic about Rex that demanded you listen to what he had to say. If he decided to say anything, at least.

Rex grinned at me. I could feel his heat and closeness in the small space. He pressed his body against mine, his hands on my hips. I could feel his muscles through his shirt, and smell the sweat on his skin. It was sweet and musky, and I felt myself growing hot and excited at his touch. He leaned forward, and before I could speak, he kissed me. His lips moved softly at first, and after a moment his kiss turned hard and hungry, as his mouth opened and his tongue ran rough against mine. I felt myself open up to him, his strong body hard and huge against mine.

He kissed me against the sink for half a minute, his hands wrapped firmly on my hips, and I ran my fingers through his thick hair. He pulled away, and then pushed me toward a stall. I opened the door, overwhelmed with excitement, as he followed me in, locking the door behind us. We pressed into the stall together, the tiny space forcing our bodies into contact, and he put his hands against the wall just above my shoulders. Boxed in, he grinned at me.

“Do this with all the girls?” I asked breathless.

“Only the spoiled ones,” he replied.

I grabbed the back of his head and kissed him hard as punishment, our lips crushed together, and I heard him grunt his approval. I felt like I was starving for him, and my mouth worked against his as my hands roamed down his muscled chest and abs. I found the button on his fly and pulled it open, ripping the zipper down behind it.

He pulled back from me and pushed my shoulders back against the stall. His body flattened against mine, pinning me with his heat. I could feel his hard cock against my thigh and I was surprised at its girth and size.

“Slow down there, spoiled girl,” he growled at me, deep green eyes full of desire.

“You don’t seem like the slow type,” I replied.

His lips found my neck and slowly he kissed his way up toward my ear. I threw my head back, savoring his touch and the tingling sensation that ran over my skin.

“You don’t know me,” he whispered. I pulled my face back and looked him in the eyes.

“Do you want me to?” I asked.

There was a moment where I thought he might answer. What he might have said floated between us, the possibilities growing in all directions, but the silence stretched on. Instead, he leaned forward and kissed me lightly again, then stronger. I felt his hands cup my ass and squeeze, forcing my wet mound against his crotch. I shivered from the pleasure it sent through my clothes, and our mouths opened hungrily again.

I had never done anything like that before. He seemed much more at ease with making out in a bathroom stall than I was, and I couldn’t help but think he had done it before. His right hand roamed down my body and slipped into my shorts. I felt his rough fingers rub my soaked cleft over my useless panties, and he growled again in my ear.

“Soaked already, miss prissy,” he said. I let out a small moan as his practiced fingers worked my spot, sending waves of pleasure through my spine. His lips found my neck and throat again, and I ran my fingers through his thick hair. I couldn’t think about anything but his body, and how badly I wanted him to take me. In that moment, I knew I would have done anything for him, and let him do anything to me. I was melting in his embrace, losing myself, and I loved every second of it.

I reached my hand out and grabbed his cock through his jeans. I could feel how hard and huge he was, and I let out another small moan. I rubbed its length, savoring the thickness and the size, and he let out a small grunt.

Suddenly, the door to the bathroom flew open and slammed against the wall with a loud bang. We stopped immediately, and his head snapped up in the direction of the intruder.

“Fuck off,” he said loudly.

“Rex, it’s Clutch. You got a job,” came the response. The voice was deep and serious. Rex slid his hand from my shorts and disentangled our bodies.

“This second?” he asked.

“Right now. Take a minute, get your shit together, then meet us out back.” The door to the bathroom slammed shut, and the intruder was gone.

I looked up at Rex, and he let out a quiet curse. He zipped and buttoned his pants then opened the stall door.

“Sorry, but I have to go,” he said. I couldn’t believe it. Was he fucking serious?

“You need to go right this second?”

“Sorry. Not the kind of job I can say no to.”

Wow. What a complete asshole. I stared at him open mouthed, flushed through with emotion and desire, and beyond pissed that he was about to walk out on me.

He walked over to the sink and splashed some water on his face as I gathered myself together. I couldn’t believe he was stopping, and my body was still amped up. I couldn’t decide if I wanted to smack him or kiss him again.

“Well, are you coming back?” I said lamely, not sure what else to do.

He turned and looked back at me. His eyes were still filled with passion, but there was also a sadness to his look that I didn’t understand.

“You seem nice. I had a good time. But you should leave here and never look back. This isn’t the kind of place for someone like you.” He was starting to sound like a broken record and it pissed me off a little bit.

I shook my head, annoyed. “Quit saying that. How do you know I want to get involved with you, anyway?”

He was quiet for a second. “I guess I don’t.”

“Okay then. You should take my number. If you want to do this again sometime, call me. Otherwise, good luck I guess.”

He let out a sigh, and I could tell he was conflicted. He didn’t seem like the kind of man to have second thoughts, but something was bugging him. He certainly was decisive when he took me into the bathroom a few minutes ago. It was pretty clear that the prospect of the upcoming job had shifted him into a completely different mindset.

“Fine,” he said then dug from his pocket the oldest phone I had never seen. He handed it to me, and I almost laughed.

“What, is this thing from 2002?” I asked.

He grinned. “Probably, but it works. Got a problem, spoiled girl?”

“Asshole,” I said, as I typed my number into his contacts. When I finished, I gave it back to him. He slipped it into his pocket.

“Maybe I’ll call you,” he said. I gave him a sly smile, and shrugged.

“Call or not, whatever.”

He grinned, and I felt myself melt again. There was something dark and alluring about him, and I realized it was exactly what I needed. He was the adrenaline missing from my otherwise even-keel life. He turned and opened the bathroom door, and held it for me as I walked by. We went back out into the main room together, and I noticed the bar had cleared out considerably. It was a little eerie to enter the empty space, but I didn’t dwell on it too much.

“Get home safe,” he said.

I looked at him, but didn’t want to leave. “Yeah, good luck with your job.”

He nodded then turned and walked back toward the bathrooms. He pushed through an emergency exit door, and was gone.

I stood looking out over the mostly empty space for a second then walked toward the front door, pushed it open, and left. I had chills and goose bumps all over my body, and I realized I felt more alive than I had in a long time.

B
ack in my apartment, pulse still racing with the memory of Rex’s hands on my hips, I looked at my body in a full-length mirror and wondered what he saw. I knew he lingered over my figure, my breasts, legs, and ass, and I was sure he liked my long blonde hair. But he kept calling me prissy and spoiled, and I couldn’t understand why. I wasn’t exactly wearing Prada or speaking with a British accent the whole night. He still somehow saw through me.

Even though my parents lost all their money, it was true that I had a rich upbringing. Private schools, big house, stable of horses, the whole cliché upper class rearing. I even had a nanny when I was younger. All of that changed, of course, when my father went to jail for embezzling from his company, and my mother fled to Florida in disgrace.

Since that day, when the feds came and arrested him, and took away our house and all our possessions, I vowed never to live like them. I went to public high school and earned an academic scholarship to Columbia. Everything I owned was worked for and paid for by me and nobody else. It was freeing to know that I didn’t owe anybody anything, that I was my own person. Still, I couldn’t shake the specter of my parents, and the way they raised me must have stuck more than I realized.