“It’s a thigh,” I say in a deadpan tone, to show he’s being ridiculous. “Besides, I’ve been flashing my thigh anyway because of the slit. I’ll survive, Storm.”
“I’ll still be annoyed by it,” he admits, standing up.
His lips slant over mine, kissing me slowly and thoroughly until I whine into his mouth. People hoot and holler, leaving me to wonder if he was just trying to get me out of my head.
“The caskets are in the hearse,” he says heavily, kissing my forehead.
“Your distraction techniques need work,” I lie, putting my sunglasses away. There’s no need to hide my tears anymore. I can see the raw emotions of the men around me.
Storm is right: no one is going to judge me for crying today.
“I’ll just as happily spank your ass red before I put you on the back of my bike,” he grumbles. “I didn’t want you to watch them take their caskets out. Now, for your helmet, Little Queen.”
“Please, no,” I hiss, allowing him to put the spare helmet over my head. Actually, I can’t call it that since it was bought specifically for me. “The spanking might be fun, but that nickname? Ugh.”
“You’re the one who went out and decided to make our club adore you,” he teases, getting on the bike before offering me hishand. “Nice big step, baby. Then make sure you’re holding me tightly.”
The tied up skirt is a little difficult to manage as I slide in behind him, and I scoot up so that I’m not flashing the world. It also shows off my gun if I move in just the right way, so I suppose it’s just as well that we’ll probably be placed in the middle of the group. I’m quickly learning the club protects their own, and I’m now part of that.
The transition from being on the outskirts to being accepted still blows my mind with how quickly it happened, but I suppose it is my fault for mouthing off.
Settling on the back of the bike, I reach up to drop down the visor of my helmet when something heavy is dropped on my shoulders. The smell of the leather hits my senses, along with the scent of violets and dark chocolate.
“What?”
Twisting in my seat, I have to look way up to see who put the jacket on me.
“The floors are wet, and your girl isn’t exactly dressed to be on the back of a bike,” the alpha from earlier growls at Storm. His face is free of any face covering, and he’s pissed. “If you wreck, it won’t fucking be pretty.”
“I offered to drive, but it appears to be a whole thing,” I shrug. I don’t enjoy being ignored.
“So you’re offering your jacket?” Storm asks. “That’s a statement I don’t appreciate.”
“If it’s going to keep her from being a smear on the goddamned pavement, then you can take it however the fuck you want.”
“Shouldn’t I know whose jacket I’m wearing?” I ask, making no move to put my arms through.
While the jacket is huge, I’m still wearing my raincoat, and the multiple layers make it difficult to move. It’s not the safest in case I need my weapon for some reason.
“I’m Ransom,” the alpha says, his hooded eyes heating slightly.
I’m confused by the attraction that he’s obviously feeling, and I don’t understand why I want to wear his stupid jacket.
“Storm…” I allow them to hear my uncertainty, because I’m not sure what the etiquette is. This is a funeral, and it’s not about me. I don’t want to be a problem or make the wrong move. There’s too much about their world I don’t understand.
“Wear the jacket, if only because it’ll give you protection,” he growls. “I’m planning to ride in the middle of the group to keep you hidden as well. I don’t expect trouble, but…”
“It could still find us,” I finish. “I need to take off my raincoat. There’s no way for me to move my arms otherwise with how weighed down I feel.”
“I didn’t think about that,” Ransom admits, picking the leather jacket up so I can pull off my raincoat.
It takes a little effort because it feels as if it’s molded to my skin, and I’m breathing a little heavily by the time I’m done.
“You need to up your exercise routine if a raincoat is gonna take you out,” he says, amused as he takes the raincoat from me and plops the leather coat on my shoulders. “I’ll put this away so you don’t have to get up. Your dress is holding on by a thread.”
“Ugh, the dress is fine,” I grumble. “You’re going to make me self conscious about it.”
Sighing, I halfheartedly fix my dress, knowing the knot Storm made along the side of it isn’t coming out unless he wants it to.
