Page 27 of Riding Dirty

“What the fuck?” he hisses when he approaches me.

I don’t say anything immediately. I try to think of something to say, but the only thing that comes out is a question, because I don’t want to actually answer him. I don’t want to admit that I slept with someone who terrifies me, and it was amazing.

“What do you mean?” I finally ask, feigning innocence.

He clears his throat, his eyes searching mine for a moment, then he shakes his head once before he answers me. Shifting a little closer, dipping his head slightly so he can talk to me without anyone else hearing.

“You know what I mean,” he grinds out. “What the fuck? You slept with him?”

My eyes shift behind him, then from side to side just to make sure there isn’t anyone listening in on this conversation, even though they would have to be really close to us to hear anything, because I’m going to admit what I did, what I want, and that I’m an idiot.

“I didn’t just sleep with him,” I whisper. “It was an experience, and I want more.”

That confession alone causes Alex’s eyes to widen so much that I’m afraid they’re going to actually pop out of his head. He lifts his hand to his forehead, pressing his palm against his skin as he closes his eyes.

“Oh god,” he groans. “You’re hooked on him, aren’t you?”

Thankfully, he doesn’t do any of this loudly enough for anyone else to hear. Because that would be embarrassing. It’s one thing to be falling for Wrath. It’s another for all his dudes to know and then laugh about it.

“I’m more than hooked,” I confess.

The admission doesn’t make my shoulders feel any lighter. My stomach actually feels like it’s full of rocks, saying it aloud and to someone else. The fact that I am hooked on Wrath. I want more, crave it actually, and I know I definitely should not.

My gaze flicks down to my feet as I try to keep from throwing up. Alex reaches out, wrapping his fingers around my biceps, which forces my eyes to shift back up to meet his. This is almost comical because I swore this would never happen.

I was able to hold off for a whole couple of days. And really, it’s not like he was trying to do anything either. I basically really only held off about two seconds, because the second he gave me a knowing look… I was ready.

What kind of woman am I? I haven’t had sex in over a year, and here I am, throwing myself at this man—a man who I know is dangerous.

CHAPTER

TWENTY-ONE

ELODIE

Sitting in the chair across from the unoccupied desk, I try not to panic. I shouldn’t be panicking. Just because I slept with Wrath doesn’t mean I have any need to panic. Except my heart doesn’t realize that. It wants him right next to me. It wants to fall in love with him.

It wants to keep him.

The door to the office opens, interrupting my thoughts of wanting to keep Wrath to myself. In my daydreams, he’s this loyal, rough-and-tumble guy who only wants me, who never looks at anyone else and certainly never touches anyone else. I’m the only woman in his life. We get married, make babies, and live happily ever after.

A fantasy, that’s what it is, and I need to forget all about it, because no man who is part of the Iron Flame Motorcycle Club is going to live that kind of life. They’re men who live on the fringes, the outskirts, in the underbelly. They’re scary, and it would do me good to remember that.

Even if, when he kisses me, touches me, is inside me, I forget to be scared of him.

I need to remind myself that Wrath is scary. Really freaking scary. And as he walks into this office, Dare at his back, I remember it… clearly. Their physical presence takes up all the space and air in the office. They command this room, and I’m reminded of just how intimidating they are.

I’m not sure where they’re headed, but I'm surprised when each of them leans their ass against the front edge of the desk and crosses their arms over their chests, tipping their chins down as they stare straight across to us.

Alex doesn’t say anything, but I can feel his anxiousness next to me, or maybe it’s my own I’m sensing, I’m not quite sure. But now I’m starting to feel really nervous about this, and I don’t know why.

But what if I didn’t take enough pictures? Or what if they were of the wrong things? I don’t know what exactly I’m getting myself into here, and I don’t want to screw up and mess this up. I like Wrath, and I want him to like me. I want him to be proud of me. How fucked up is that? I want him to be proud of me for helping him do… likely illegal shit.

“Tell us everything about that event center,” Dare demands.

“And pictures,” Wrath adds.

Unlocking my phone, I find my picture icon and touch it, scrolling through and finding the first picture I took last night. Extending my arm, I hold out the phone for Wrath to take. He slips the device from my fingers, making sure to glide his own over mine, which sends goose bumps sliding over every ounce of my flesh.