Never Love an Outlaw: Deadly Pistols MC Romance (Outlaw Love) (2 page)

Why does that look make me feel so excited and scared simultaneously?

“Get the fuck outside, Ricky,” the stranger growled. “Stop crying and listen. I don't waste my time saying the same thing twice. Next time you give me any bullshit, pretending you've got everything under control and we're just here for a tea party, I'll break your fucking jaw. You'll lose teeth. Now, outta my damned way.”

Ricky hit the wall again with a loud thud. Other sinister sounding male voices filled the hallway, just as a huge shadow stepped into the doorway.

My heart came to a total stop when I stared at him. It was dark and dingy, the only dull light coming through the blinds, turning my world into a canvass of shadows.

Tall, dark, and handsome didn't begin to describe the giant about to enter my world, and probably my body too.

Shit,
tall
didn't do him a bit of justice.

He was so big he had to duck when he finally stepped through the frame, into my room. Instinct forced me to walk backwards, pressed me against the wall. I froze, running my eyes across his leather vest for telltale signs of the demon red lettering and severed hand symbols the MC always wore.

But he didn't have that at all. His cut looked...cleaner, somehow. I didn't recognize the symbols either. Smoking guns, skulls, and neon yellow one-percent signs plastered his chest, flanking the patch with his name.

I looked and looked, and I couldn't believe what I was seeing. This was another club, another man, another dangerous predator ready to rip me to shreds.

The fear and shock broke my protective wall. We locked eyes, and I trembled, saying his name.

“Skin? Seriously?” I instantly regretted the words.

I lost my smart mouth the first few times Ricky slapped me across the face. I couldn't comprehend why it suddenly came back the second I was staring at a man ten times as dark and powerful as my brutal pimp.

He stopped less than a foot away from me, painfully close. His smile distorted the long scar across his cheek. All I could think about while I watched it was how it complimented his warrior look, like he'd just walked into the real world from the Norse legends I read about in college.

His huge, tattooed arm rose up to his chest, and he tapped the name patch with two fingers. “That's what they all call me, babe. Don't wear it out before I fuck you ragged.”

Oh, God.
My brain shut down. I couldn't understand why he was here anymore. Skin was too vicious, too strange, too devilishly good-looking to be in a whorehouse like this one.

I knew I'd just met my ruin.

Six Months Ago

Becky laughed in the driver's seat, taking the mountain curves way too fast. I was too drunk to care that we might go careening off into the nearest ravine, right through the flimsy guard rails.

Tonight was ours. We were out to conquer a new set of boys like we always did and drink ourselves stupid.

If only those damned heels would've stopped digging into my ankles...

“You fighting with your shoes again, girl?” my best friend said with a laugh. “You try way too hard when you flirt!”

“Whatever, it's not like they'll be staying on for long anyway,” I said. “Crawford's been texting me all week. Pretty funny, really. I thought the son of the biggest real estate mogul in Knoxville would be knee-deep in pussy...he seems kinda desperate.”

“Oh, please, they're all like that. Awkward rich boys.” Becky spun the wheel in her hands. My stomach lurched as we took the next hard turn.

“Hey, at least he's cute. If he isn't a total dud tonight, maybe we'll be onto something.”

“
Pssht.
We're too young to go hubby hunting, and you know it! This party's going to be packed with hot guys, Meg. Don't get in too deep having the hots for Craw-daddy. He wants in your panties and he's a heart breaker.”

I rolled my eyes. She'd always been the perfect foil for all my wild intentions, and sometimes a bigger party slut than me.

Too bad. Becky wouldn't put the brakes on my fun tonight, and I wasn't buying her carefree attitude for once.

Lately, I'd been thinking a lot about growing up. Something about being twenty-two without a man, maybe, or else the fact that Daddy was getting more frustrated with me by the day, having me around the house.

I barely went to the Wilder Corp offices, even though I had an internship there through his strings. What did it matter? I had the same sweet trust fund that had gotten me through college. My salary rolled in like clockwork, whether I went in and answered a few phones each week, or slept off my latest hangover.

I'd plowed through college last spring and walked out with my Communications degree. Good for setting me up as the public face of Daddy's company after he decided to retire. And honestly, as long as I had my fun and landed a good husband, I didn't really care.

I was born a Wilder, and that meant living life on easy mode. I had the money and the name to be whoever I wanted.

It wasn't a sin to be figuring that out in my early twenties, right?

Sure, the future mattered, but I didn't have to think too hard. I didn't have to settle tonight. I just wanted to
explore,
have some fun with Crawford, and see if he was more than fuck buddy material.

I'd drink with Becky and the guys. Then we'd have the best skinny dip of our young lives, cooling off in the private mountain pools, the perfect way to end a long, muggy September day.

The next mountain bend twisted my ankle as I dug my heel into the car's floor for support.
Fuck.

Hiccuping, I reached down, fixing my strap. Becky laughed harder, snickering the whole time.

“You know, Meg, you could use some of that big family fortune to go to Nashville and have some fancy-schmacy designer there make you heels worth walking on. Last summer, when I went, I found this awesome little place where...“

Blah, blah, blah.
I zoned out, too drunk and eager for fun to care about Becky lecturing me on fashion. My core tingled, excited for the night to come.

I lived for the chase, the first time with someone new. I'd never found anything better than taking on a new man, feeling his face and his hands all over my pussy. Despite my wild streak, I'd stayed a good girl.

I wouldn't give any man my cherry until he put a ring on my finger. I'd fuck him every other way, and feel his tongue all over me, but I wouldn't give
that
up.

Time was on my side, after all. I didn't care if I needed to suck off half of Eastern Tennessee before I found a man worthy of claiming me as his wife.

Becky was still blathering on about some fashion crap while I nodded and purred agreement. The car pulled onto Crawford family land, and we spied about a dozen other vehicles lined up on the side of the mountain.

For a second, I worried Becky was too trashed to parallel park without plowing into someone, but she managed. She always did.

As soon as the emergency brake was on, I popped my door, and staggered out, straightening my white summer dress. The slope leading up to the little party hut next to the mountain pools was hell on my legs, but I appreciated the warm-up.

I'd need it for all the fun I knew we'd have tonight. There'd be flirting, necking, and maybe finding a little love.

It was just another carefree Smoky Mountain night, the kind I lived for. What could possibly go wrong?

“Crawford, I don't know...”

“Aw, come on, baby. We've got this side of the waterfall all to ourselves. You're a lovely lady tonight, and I'm a hot blooded man, both of us rich as Midas. Stop fighting this thing we're both feeling. Let me be the first man to give it to you like nobody else ever will.”

His hard cock moved against my leg. I laughed as he dove for my neck again.

Crawford was nice, lean, and strong, but he was either the clumsiest kisser I'd ever been with, or I was more drunk than I thought.

“Wait, wait. Let's not get carried away. I want to take this slow, Craw.” I pushed against his chest until he rocked back.

His eyebrows furrowed. “You? Slow? Shit, that's not the Meg Willow Wilder everybody knows. They all said you'd have your lips wrapped around me by now...”

I froze up, staring at him like he'd just punched me in the face. Hot, drunken anger burned my cheeks, so sultry they'd rage like furnaces if I reached up and touched them.

Okay, sure, I knew I had a reputation. But he was calling me a slut to my face, and expecting me to act like one. Consider me blindsided.

“You've been talking to other guys about me?”

Crawford's turn to blush. “Meg, come on, it's not like that. I just mean I thought you'd want to have some fun tonight, that's all. I didn't know you'd become a good girl overnight. Baby, who do I look like?”

Smiling, he inched towards me, throwing an arm around my shoulder. “You don't have to use your mouth with me for anything but a warm-up. Your friends talk a lot. I know you're still a virgin in one way, Meg. I know I'm good enough to fuck you. Why are you fighting this so hard, baby? Give me what I want tonight, and I'll give you all kinds of things that'll make you scream.”

This couldn't be happening. Was he seriously bribing me? Trying to buy me off with some sick quid pro quo? Hell, with the way he'd been talking, he probably just wanted to bang me and brag about it to his friends.

My eyes bugged out as I fought him off, pushing through the cool mountain pool, covering my boobs with one arm.

I'd heard enough. I turned my back to him, swam several strokes to the rocky wall lining the pool, and clambered out. Crawford yelled something after me, but I barely heard him over the burbling waterfall next to us.

“Meg, wait! We can talk this out. I'm sorry, I got carried away. Come back!”

I couldn't believe it. Just when I wanted to get my life together, this asshole rubbed my reputation in my face, acting like he expected me to suck him off just because I'd been a total slut in the past.

Well, those days were over. I found my dress and towel laying on the nearby cooler where I'd placed them. I quickly dried myself off and dressed.

I didn't want him to follow. If he had another chance to talk to me later, it'd only be after I cooled off.

Maybe I'd whored myself to too many men. That was my mistake. But
nobody
treated me like they were entitled to my body or my family name, and I wasn't going to let Crawford be the first.

I didn't care if his family was a little richer than mine. Being a Wilder gave me all the wealth I'd ever need. It also meant I wasn't backing down for anyone who came after my ego, whether or not they had some truth behind it.

I stomped into the forest, heading onto a half-overgrown path. The clear night stars shone overhead, complemented by a huge summer moon. A walk would clear my head, take the edge off his stupid comments. I'd return in an hour or two and go from there, depending on how I felt.

I knew Becky would be screwing around with Tim Yates for a few more hours. I expected to stumble across her in some corner of the forest, rolling in the dirt with her latest dirty talking pump and dump crush.

They never lasted long. I could say the same, and the old Meg would've just shut up and went along with Crawford for the night, if only he were a better kisser.

I hated getting older. Thinking about my career, my family, finding my future husband just brought more anxiety. But nothing made me more anxious than thinking about the party lifestyle forever.

I couldn't creep toward thirty still acting like I was twenty-one. No fucking way.

When I came into a cool, dark clearing, I stopped to admire the view. The moonlight came down through the break in the trees. I walked over to the smoothest mountain boulder and sat, feeling the dew veil against my legs.

God, what a beautiful night. So, why was it becoming so ugly?

Soft, transparent mist swirled low on the ground. They didn't call them the Smoky Mountains for nothing.

I was busy focusing on the beauty when I heard something snap nearby. I spun and saw a figure coming through the darkness. Figuring it was Crawford, I bolted up, folding my arms, ready to hear his pathetic apologies.

“Look, before you start, I'm not in the mood for excuses.”

“Excuses? My, my, girl. I'd say you're right out of a dream, standing here in the dark up in these mountains, but you're too angry to be a fantasy.” His voice was older, too arrogant and gravely to be Craw's.

I whipped around and faced a tall, rugged looking man with a cap pulled tight over his eyes. He wore tight jeans and an open shirt. He looked like he'd just wandered out of a lumber mill or something.

Great. Running into weirdos up here in the boonies was exactly what I needed.

“Sorry. I...I thought you were somebody else.” I looked him up and down, sizing him up. “What're you doing out here?”

He smiled, raising an eyebrow. “I could ask you the same thing. Seems you've gone a long way from the party happening down by the springs.”

Crap.
How did he know? We must've been really noisy, or else he just knew his turf that well.

Better than me, if I had to run.

Shuffling my feet uncomfortably, I tried not to think about how fucked I really was. I didn't know this man, nor his intentions.

Nobody except Crawford knew I'd run off – and knowing how much of a bitter wimp he was, he wouldn't be coming to my rescue. I could only hold my ground, and hope to God this was just some eccentric mountain man wanting to make friendly conversation.

“Too noisy for me,” I lied. “I wanted to get away and enjoy the forest beauty while I'm up here. I don't get out to the Smokies as often as I'd like.”

His thin smile widened, and he took a step closer. I was about to bolt when he flopped down on the boulder next to me, spreading his arms wide, staring up at the sky.

“It's a gorgeous fucking night, ain't it? My name's Richard, by the way.” He tilted his head up and shot me a wink. He reached into his pocket.

I couldn't help but smile and feel a little more ease creep in when he drew out a small silver flask.