He doesn’t care.
He just kisses me.
Hard.
Fast.
Aggressive.
His hand is behind my head, tangled in my hair and I gasp against his mouth in surprise. He pushes his advantage and slides his tongue into my mouth, which makes me melt against him. I moan and rock my hips against him, grinding against the hard length of his cock, which is now pressed against my belly. Nothing else matters to me except Earl and whatever this moment is. He kisses me like a man possessed and the only redemption is my lips.
The deeper he presses, the more I respond. I am on fire, and every nerve ending is exploding with need and desire. A litany of suggestions flow through my head, each one dirtier than the last. If given half a chance, I would climb this man like a tree. I moan and grind against him shamelessly.
Then, he’s gone. His lips are no longer on mine and I feel an intense, immediate loss.
He shoves me away roughly and I stumble backwards into my chair.
Earl is standing a few steps away, breathing hard. He looks really proud of himself, something that is 97% irritating and 3% adorable.
“I rest my case,” he offers with a mock little bow.
I change my mind. It’s not adorable at all.
I see red.
“Really? That’s what you have to say to that? DId you have fun proving some sort of asinine point?” My voice is calm, but the shaking in my hands as I quiver in sudden, overwhelming rage gives away my true feelings.
I am so angry.
Incandescent.
I am angry at my instant response to this strange, arrogant, asshole of a man.
I am angry that he kissed me to prove a point.
And most irritating of all? I am so goddamn angry that he stopped.
I clap my hands slowly and advance on him with murder in my eyes.
“Let me make one thing VERY clear, you strange barking fuckwit. I am a grown-ass woman. I am not your little pet or toy. I am not a plaything, and I’m certainly not going to tolerate being disrespected like this.”
I jab my finger into Earl’s chest and look up at him angrily, “The only thing you proved with that cute little stunt is that you are an asshole who has to stoop to taking advantage of someone to prove a point. Congratulations.”
He pales and looks down at me with guilt in his eyes, but I am not in the mood to be forgiving.
“And you?” I turn to Bryan, glaring at him too. “You let him. You didn’t say a goddamn word. Is this what you’re offering? Weaponized chemistry? I’m not interested in that.”
Bryan looks particularly stricken and lowers his gaze to the floor.
“I don’t give a flying rat’s ass in space what you think this Matestone means I have to do. I don’t have to do anything. I owe you nothing. I can walk the fuck away right now. And I will do it. I just walked away from a four year relationship that wasn’t serving my needs. You wanna prove to me that Fate is more than just horny-adults and chemistry? Prove it. Woo me. Show me that whatever you’re offering is something I want to choose. But if you try to manipulate me again? I’m out.”
With my head held high, I march from the room, proud of myself for holding my shit together long enough to exit. When I’m out of their line of sight, I let out the breath I’ve been holding and look down at my shaking hands.
From the living room, the sound of a muffled grunt and shout of outrage follow me down the hallway.
I personally hope it’s Earl that got punched.
It’s not until I get back behind the safety of a locked door that I really check in with myself.
That was the best damn kiss of my life. My brain may hate the fact that he had to be an asshole about it, but the rest of me? Oh, the rest of me wants to march back out there and provoke him into throwing me up against a wall and having his broody, angry way with me. Bryan could help. Fuck, grab Darren and Trevor too. One giant fuckfest. That would be more than ok.
I let my head crash into the door in resignation.
I’m broken. Something in the air here has broken me.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN: RONNIE
AVOIDING EARL FOR THE rest of the day is my goal, but I have to come out to eat. I can’t help but admit that the family-style dinners around the big glass table in the Clubhouse dining area are fast becoming one of my favorite things, mostly because I can ask all the questions I want. This whole thing confuses me on so many levels and I have a list of questions.
“Ok, but you guys keep saying this is a big, bad motorcycle club. And you guys are the security force for the whole town. Where are... the rest of you? Are there really only six members? And why don’t you guys wear leather? There’s no bar in the clubhouse. And no women. I’m so confused.” I ask around a mouthful of lasagna that Bryan has cooked for us.
See? Lasagna. That’s not a normal MC Club food, is it? It should be something more violent or masculine or something. “Here’s a bloody steak and some goddamn bacon!” But no. Here’s a beautifully crafted lasagna with fresh eggplant from the garden. It’s weird. It’s also delicious.
“There’s no women because we’re a pod, sweet cheeks. Sure, as long as we’re unclaimed by a mate we could bring women back if we wanted to, but we typically don’t do that. There’s no bar because there’s no one here to run it. And leather isn't really our style. It gets hot.”
That makes
