“Shane,” she gasps out. “Shane gave me my first kiss, I swear.”
“What about Mason? What did he give you?”
“Who the fuck is Mason?!”
“Bloom.” I turn off the vibration, and silence suffocates the room. She stills, no tremors of cold or rage or chasing orgasms, not even a breath. “Mason Bloom, Reagan. Do you remember now?”
“How do you know that name?”
“A little bird told me.”
She darts daggers at me with her gaze. “Like the one who told you about my favorite restaurant, my favorite flower and colors, Detective?”
I pinch her clit with a vengeance. She makes a sound I’ve never heard before, one I’ll enjoy hearing again and again.
“Who gave you your first orgasm, Reagan? Mason or Shane?” I let the toy work on her one more time. “If you answer truthfully, I’ll let you come. If you don’t answer at all, I will…right down your throat. And if you lie…” I stroke my hardness for her to see. “God, I hope you lie, my sweet butterfly.”
CHAPTER 17
Reagan
Shapes and shadows bleed together before they come into focus. A face hovers above me. Sandy blond hair. Concerned eyes. Mason.
“Hey, you awake?” His face is relieved. “How you feeling?”
My head is heavy. My body aches. Confusion fogs my thoughts. “Where...where am I? And what are you doing here?”
“You’re at the clubhouse. I found you passed out on the street and brought you here. Doc treated you. It was faster than the hospital.”
The clubhouse. Shane’s clubhouse. “Doc?”
“He’s one of our members. A real doctor who helps around here.”
My arms tremble with the effort as I sit up. Mason’s hand steadies my shoulder. “Easy. You’re still burning up.”
“Is Shane here?”
Mason’s jaw tightens. “No. Prez called him, though. He’s on his way back.”
“I have to go home.” My throat hurts when I speak.
“Doc said you shouldn’t move till your fever breaks. You could barely walk when I found you.”
I glance around the room, taking in the sparse, worn-out furniture, the boots, the leather and denim hanging on the back of the door. “Is this...is this your room?”
He twists his lips and shakes his head. “Shane’s.”
Of course it is. I can smell him in the sheets despite my congested nose, that mix of leather and musk that makes my heart race even when I’m half-delirious with fever.
“I shouldn’t be here without him. He won’t like it.” I swing my legs over the side of the bed, but my head swims in vertigo. I grip the mattress, willing myself not to pass out again.
“Would you just—” Mason moves closer, his hands hovering like he wants to help but doesn’t dare touch me. “You’re right about leaving here, but not because of what he’ll fucking think. Look, I know you don’t wanna hear this, but—”
“No.” I cut him off. “I don’t. You’d better take a hint and stay the fuck away from me.”
“Jesus Christ. I just saved your ass.”
“Thanks, but I didn’t ask for it, and I don’t owe you anything but a thank you.”
