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Answering phones at Dutch’s Garage was only her “now” and not her future. She loved the assholes, but the dead-end job wasn’t challenging enough.
She was pretty sure Dutch was surprised to see her when she walked in every morning with their donuts and coffee from Coffee and Cream from the other end of town. But she figured the cash stuffed into the coffee can in the break room was better spent on decent coffee and fresh pastries than that generic ten-pound bag of beans Dutch bought at some warehouse store near Williamsport.
They could drink that crap the rest of the day but they should at least start their morning out right. However, her daily lattes and glazed crullers had widened her hips, slightly thickened her middle, and made her bras overflow.
She needed to do something about that, too.
But not this minute. Right now, she had another issue to deal with. Reilly reined in her thoughts and studied Rev’s quiet profile.
The man was hot as fuck.
Hot. As. Fuck.
While most of the Fury men were considerably hot, Rev was at the very top of that roaring flame.
Every time one of the bikers got clubbed in the head with the “ol’ lady” stick—what the sisterhood called the members getting snagged and bagged—she had been relieved it hadn’t been Rev.
She had a few fantasies about the other guys—how could she not?—but every time she broke out her purple Greedy Girl G-Spot Rabbit Vibrator, it was Rev’s blue eyes, his tattoos, his numerous piercings, his panty-soaking raspy voice, and those luscious lips—ones she’d love to have pressed on her upper and lower ones—she thought about. Dreamed about. It was thoughts of Rev replacing her Rabbit that made her orgasms even more intense.
Reilly shifted on the hard wooden seat. Rev was currently having a crisis. She shouldn’t be daydreaming about getting him naked and riding his cock until they both passed out.
Wait. Was that even possible? She didn’t know but she was willing to try, even though he might not be.
The only sex she’d had in the past year—due to her dear sister’s fear of her getting involved with another abusive fuckwad like Billy—had been with one buzzed guy while crammed in his two-door coupe behind Crazy Pete’s and he’d lasted about twenty seconds, if that, and…
And a failed attempt with a Fury member.
Who was not Rev.
But they ended up aborting that mission after massive drinking, furious flirting and something tragic happening…
Fear freezing him.
Apparently, Reese, Deacon, and even Judge’s looming threat of a “blanket party” if any of the members attempted to touch one of the women on the “Don’t Even Fucking Think About It” list, was enough to kill any man’s hard-on.
Reilly had heard the details about what had been done to Cage. She heard about it multiple times whenever she flirted heavily with any of the guys. She could see it in their eyes. Having sex with Reilly was not worth being clubbed by the six-foot-two, two-hundred-and-forty-pound sergeant at arms.
After seeing the result of Cage’s own blanket party, she might agree. But that sucked for her because it meant if she was going to have sex with anyone, it had to be some random guy who didn’t wear a Fury cut and ride a “sled.”
The man next to her did both.
Which sucked. It really did.
That also meant her life was being controlled by someone other than herself. Even if it was only her sex life. Because normally her sex life was a big part of her whole life. Except for now.
And she did not like that one bit.
However, she knew the guys had to agree to the by-laws and rules to remain a patched member in good-standing. She also knew she had to respect those rules and by-laws herself to also remain a welcomed part of the club.
Was she willing to give up any of that just for the opportunity to get between the sheets and sweaty with any of the single Fury members? She stared at Rev.
Yes.
No.
Shit. Maybe.
She shook herself mentally.
The man next to her was already dealing with enough shit. She shouldn’t be adding to it with her desire to jump his bones.
She shouldn’t.
She wouldn’t.
At least, not right now.
However, if he didn’t say anything soon, her thoughts would continue to spiral down a delicious but dangerous path. He needed to either officially finish this conversation by getting up and walking away or continue it since he had forced her back onto the bench. A sign he didn’t want her to leave just yet.
Not sit there like Cujo had bitten his tongue off.
Men. Frustrating as hell.
“Why would you tell this Matthew, whoever he is,” hint, hint, “that Saylor is dead?”
“To them, she is.”
Them. His family? Was Matthew part of his family?
“The reason Saylor came here…” She mentally sighed when he didn’t pick up on her prompt. So, she continued leading him in the direction she wanted the conversation to go. “You said they didn’t want her to come home after her release from juvie because she was out of control. But you told this Matthew, whoever he is,” hint, hint, “she’s dead.” She waited, mentally poking at him to explain.
