(Club Chrome MC 2) All Dogs Bite (8 page)

Enjoy it while it lasts…things gonna change quick enough.

***

Delainey awoke the next morning, sore in all the right places and happier than she’d ever been. She stretched like a cat basking in the warm summer sun of an open window and a sigh drifted from her mouth. In spite of her drowsy happiness her mind immediately went to the mountain of work that awaited her. Her clients didn’t care that she had a bad ass biker sex god hiding out in her house, all they cared about was if their project was done on time. Oh, screw that. She had plenty of time to worry about work. She wanted to get out of the apartment, that much she knew. Bronx looked like a sweet little boy, all the worries wiped from his face as he slept. In comparison, she probably looked knocked out on narcotics when she was asleep, drooling and snoring, but of course, Bronx looked adorable. So unfair. She rolled to her side to watch him sleep. Was that weird? She wasn’t sure. Probably. But she didn’t care. When was the last time she had such a gorgeous man in her bed? Oh, wait — never. As if sensing someone was watching him, Bronx’s eyes popped open. When he saw it was her, a slow, lazy smile spread across his sensual mouth and she was tempted to brush a kiss across his lips. “You’re up early,” he said with a sleep-roughened voice. “Everything okay?”

“No complaints. How about you?”

He chuckled. “All good over here. Your bed’s far better than mine. Slept like a baby.”

“Well, I did spend quite a lot on this bed,” she admitted, remembering the exorbitant price tag. “I spent my entire bonus on a big project that I’d finished early for a client. I figured having a good bed was a solid investment.”

“I agree,” he said, yawning and rubbing at his eyes. “So what’s on your agenda today?”

“Well, since you asked… I was thinking about getting out of the apartment for the day. What do you think about that?”

He regarded her with open interest. “What did you have in mind?”

“Well, I was thinking about packing a picnic. I think it’s going to be a nice enough day to go up to Lake Harvard. I know a really nice spot that’s fairly secluded and it’s only about a 45 minute drive away from here. How does that sound?”

“A picnic? By a lake?” He rubbed the stubble on his chin, thinking. She wished she could catch a glimpse of what was running through his head right now. Did he hate that idea? Did bikers not enjoy picnics by the lake? She bit her lip as she waited. Just about the time she was going to rescind her offer, he agreed with a shrug. “What the hell, I could use a change of scenery.”

A big smile followed her wash of relief at his agreement. “Okay, then it’s time to get out of bed, lazy bones,” she said, switching into get-up-and-go mode. “We need to shower and I need to pack our lunch. Do you have a preference for your sandwich, ham or roast beef? Or both?”

He chuckled. “Whatever. As long as there’s coffee, that’s all I care about right now.”

Delainey nodded and started to climb from the bed but he grabbed her and pulled her back. “Actually, I lied. There’s something else I would like before coffee.” He pulled her in close for a deep kiss, a kiss that reminded her of all the things they’d been doing all night long and she melted like plastic left near an open flame. Was it just him? Or would any man like him have this effect on her? She had no way of knowing but she did know that the way he made her feel was unlike anything she’d ever experienced. Within moments she was straddling his straining cock and riding him like there was no tomorrow, because for all she knew — there wasn’t.

Afterwards, Delainey held up the empty condom box with a frown. “Oh, darn it. We’re low on supplies. Do you think we’ll need to buy more?” The expression on his face made her laugh. “Okay, dumb question. But in all fairness, I didn’t want to assume that you are going to be hanging around long enough to need a new box.”

“Let’s just say this…even if I only stayed for another two days, we would still need another box. Maybe even the value pack.”

She laughed, delighted. “Awesome. Then we can stop by the pharmacy on the way out to the lake. I need to pick up sunscreen anyway.”

They showered together — honestly, she didn’t know how she would ever shower by herself ever again — and within the hour they were packed and ready to go. But as they walked out to her car, as she went to the driver side door, Bronx gently took her keys from her hand with a look that said,
I’m driving
, and a move that should’ve been annoying ended up making her feel cherished. It wasn’t that she couldn’t drive, she was fully capable but it was the fact that he simply took control without question. Maybe it was old-fashioned, but it made her feel very feminine and she liked it.

The only thing that would’ve made this even better was if she was climbing on top of his motorcycle, pressed up against him as they hit the open road. There was something so sexy about that idea that she made up her mind on the spot to make it happen, at least once. “So what kind of bike do you ride?” she asked once they were on the road.

At the mention of his motorcycle, a flash of true distress crossed his expression. “It’s a sweet ride. She’s a beast. Custom Harley, fat, in-your-face front end, a paint job that cost me as much as the bike. Lots of custom work on that baby,” he said with obvious pride, adding with a glower that made her shiver. “And if there’s a single scratch, someone’s ass is going to pay.”

“Where is it parked? Is it safe?”

“Yeah, it should be safe enough for now. No one’s going to mess with my bike until they know that I’m not around anymore. But I’d feel more comfortable if it were with me, obviously.”

She nodded, understanding. “Is there any way that you could get it safely?”

He shook his head. “Not yet. But don’t worry about it, I’m working on something.”

It was that
something
that made her nervous. She shouldn’t ask but she had to know. “Who tried to shoot you?”

“I wish I knew. The truth is there’s a long list of people who would love to shoot me. I haven’t exactly made a ton of friends over the years.”

Questions she probably didn’t want to know the answers to bubbled on her tongue. She should just let it go. There was wisdom in the saying ignorance was bliss. But she was a curious person by nature — in fact, Zoe was always telling her she should’ve gone into journalism instead of graphic arts but alas, Delainey had no talent for words. “So why do people hate you so much, I mean, enough to want you dead?” she asked.

“Honey, I’ve done things I’m not proud of. Things I had to do to survive, and some things I did just because I wanted to. I warned you that I’m not a good man. That shit comes with consequences. You know what I mean?”

A smart woman would take his words at face value and at least thank him for giving her the easy way out. But there was something about him that made her think he wasn’t as bad as he liked to think he was. She sensed goodness in him. Maybe it was in the way he touched her or the way that he looked at her. There was something about him that made her want to defend, and hold him. “We’ve all done things we’re not proud of,” she said, with all sincerity. To this admission he barked a short laugh that she found insulting. She frowned, saying crisply, “What? Just because I’m not some outlaw biker I can’t have things in my past that I’m ashamed of?”

He sobered, as if realizing he’d hurt her feelings. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be an asshole. It’s just that our lives are so different, sweetheart. I can’t imagine that you could have something in your history that could be as bad as what’s in mine.”

“It’s not a pissing contest. We’re not comparing and trying to win some prize with our war stories,” she reminded him. “All I’m saying is that I have had things happen in my life that I wish I could forget.”

“Such as?”

She shot him a wary look. “Maybe I don’t want to tell you. Maybe you’ll laugh at me.”

Bronx took the rebuke like a penitent man and actually tried to make amends. “I won’t laugh,” he promised and she heard the ring of truth in his tone. “Go on, I want to hear your story. Please.”

Delainey drew a deep breath, not quite sure if she was ready to share this particular story but there was something about Bronx that made her feel safe, even when it shouldn’t. He was the last person she should ever feel safe with but she sensed in her heart that he would rip someone to shreds with his bare hands to defend her. It was crazy, she didn’t know why she had that feeling. They were practically strangers but as much body fluids as they’d been exchanging in the last two days she felt as if she knew his soul. She supposed it was only natural that she would want to share something about her that revealed vulnerability. “Remember how I told you dating was hard for a big girl? Well, imagine high school. High school is probably the worst place in the world for someone who doesn’t fit in the cultural standard for
pretty
. The school I went to was your average suburban, upper-middle-class school. Most people had pretty good lives, and some people had lots of money. My parents were definitely in the upper middle-class bracket. We drove nice cars, had a nice house and I never really went without for anything I needed. But I’d always struggled with my weight. I tried countless diets, starved myself, tried bulimia once but discovered that I have an almost nonexistent gag reflex —“

“A trait I find very sexy,” he interjected with a lecherous grin that made her laugh even though it was highly inappropriate and made her blush.

“
Shoosh
. You don’t get to interrupt when I’m telling a story that makes me feel emotionally vulnerable.”

“Fair enough.” He pretended to zip his lip and then gestured for her to continue.

“Okay, as I was saying, being the big girl in a sea of perfect beautiful people makes you a bit of an outcast. I was just like every other girl — wanting to fit in. And when prom came along, I wanted to be asked just like the other girls. And when one of the most popular boys in class seemed interested in me, I was in seventh heaven. Can you already see where this is going? It’s pretty cliché.”

“Let me guess, you got asked to the prom but it was a fake invitation and you got stood up?” He supplied, a dark frown gathering on his brow. When she nodded. His fury was evident. “What a bunch of pricks.”

“But that wasn’t the worst of it. God, how I wish that was the worst of it. I was so embarrassed that I’d been stood up that I told my parents that I’d received a call from the guy and he wanted me to meet him at the dance. I made up some story about him having car trouble and I lied to my parents so they wouldn’t know just how pathetic their daughter was. I went to the local ice cream shop in my fancy dress and I could see the pity in the clerk’s eyes as I bought a scoop of every flavor. She could probably guess what’d happened, too but I didn’t care at that point. I spent prom night eating myself into an insulin coma. When it was all said and done I was so disgusted with myself that when I came home I took a bunch of my mom’s sleeping pills and just tried to end it all.”

“You tried to kill yourself?”

The memories of that time were crippling. She almost couldn’t continue but somehow she found the strength. “Yeah,” she admitted. “The only reason I’m here today is because Zoe found me the next morning and she called 911. I don’t even know how I was still alive but I guess it was pretty close. Afterward, my parents were so freaked out about my mental health that I was required to see a counselor for months after the incident. At first I was mortified having to see a therapist but she actually helped me. She helped me through a really difficult time and if it weren’t for my therapist I might’ve tried it again. I was so miserable. You can’t possibly understand how isolating it is to feel like some kind of freak just because you’re different. It affects your self-esteem, the way you look at the world, the way you see yourself and how you see other people.”

“High school is filled with pricks, assholes, and bitches.”

She chuckled sadly. “Yeah, you can say that again. It’s just so sad because it doesn’t need to be that way. How did we go from a culture that celebrated, you know, healthy curves to a culture that celebrates bones? I work in graphic design — I speak Photoshop. I know that there is no such thing as flawless skin and perfect proportions and there shouldn’t be but that’s what the media promotes and what they require when they send me work. That’s what upsets me the most about this business that I’m in. Were setting a standard for girls that can never be attained. It’s an endless cycle. Little girls look in the magazines and think what they see is real and then when they look in the mirror at themselves, all they see are the flaws that I airbrush out on a regular basis. It bothers me but what am I supposed to do? I have to pay the bills somehow.”

“We’ve all done things just to pay the bills,” he said quietly, shocking her with his solemn admission. Was he saying that he wasn’t proud of his lifestyle? If he could, would he change? He must’ve caught the flicker of hope in her expression because he shut it down pretty quickly.

“Look, what’s in the past is in the past don’t let it run your life. But don’t get the wrong idea about what I said. I like what I do, so don’t try to paint me as some poor, misunderstood hero.”

She frowned when she realized he was purposefully painting himself in a dark light for her benefit. “Why do you do that?”

“Why do I do what?”

“Every time you think I might think something nice of you, you shut it down by saying something terrible. I hate to break it to you but I know you’re not perfect, and I know you’re probably the worst example of dating material I could possibly consider but I like you. I like you a lot. If you don’t like me that way, just say so. I’m used to rejection. But don’t throw up smokescreens just because you think you’re trying to protect me.”

He started to say something but thought better of it. She didn’t know if his silence was because he was angry or because he agreed with her or because he just didn’t want talk to her anymore but the longer it stretched out, the more anxious she became. “I don’t mean to ruin the drive,” she said, hoping to clarify. “I like spending time with you. I know you’re not staying and I’m not trying to make you stay. I’m just telling you how I feel. That’s one of the things I learned from my therapist all those years ago. Share your feelings,
communicate
, you know?”