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I tell Denise that I'll be back and head for the door. I know Xander told me never to answer the door, but there's other bikers here so it should be okay, right?
I throw open the door and smile at Davina holding bags of food containers.
"Sorry we're late," she says before hugging me but I notice she's missing someone.
"Where's Lucy?"
"Oh, she couldn't make it. Stomach flu."
Then, a large figure approaches behind her and my heart drops in my stomach as I realize the figure is Browning, Xander's father. "Evening, Laura."
The image of him dragging me off to that office, forcing me to undress for him is still fresh in my mind. The timing is too soon for me not to panic, but I keep my anxiety hidden.
"Come on, babe. These people are probably starving."
All I can do is watch in stone silence as Browning throws his arm around Davina's shoulder and guides her into the apartment. The way they move together almost seems natural. I wouldn't know they can't stand each other just by looking at them.
I bring out plates and silverware numbly and even fetch beers for everyone, all the way until Xander leaves our room in a t-shirt and jeans, his hair slicked back from his shower.
He steps into the kitchen to check on me, his eyes zoned in on his father on the couch with Davina in his lap.
"Are you okay?" he asks as I fill up a plate for him.
"I'm fine," I say quickly, not sure if he believes me, but he doesn't say anything about it.
Xander goes out to the living room where everyone is chatting like old friends and I watch him sit on the empty couch.
If it wasn't for Nala bringing a bunch of chairs, everyone would be sitting on the floor.
I carry a six-pack of beers, held together by the plastic rings into the living room and pull one off to hand to Xander, but he sets his plate beside him on the couch and grabs my wrist. He tugs me into him and I land in his lap right before he plants a desire-fueled kiss on my lips, staking his claim on me in front of everyone.
I can't help losing myself in his lips and the feel of his hands on my body.
I'm completely his and he knows it.
After a minute, he pulls back and smirks at me. "Thanks," he mutters, the drawl of his voice so damn sexy.
I smile at him and climb out of his lap, making sure to subtlely press my ass against his crotch as I do. No one else will notice but he sure as hell does from the way his eyes darken. I plop down next to him and crack open a beer for myself, taking in all the eyes on me.
This is awkward.
I break the tense silence. "Out of curiosity, why do they call you Chucky?" I ask, looking at the skinny biker with no tattoos and black-rimmed glasses.
Pipe laughs. "This idiot is scared of the Chucky doll."
"Not just the Chucky doll, dumbass. It'shaunteddolls. They're creepy as hell. My sister had a haunted doll and she'd use it to talk to the dead. I will never unhear that creepy voice." He shudders in disgust.
Pipe pulls out his phone, opens up the lock screen, and shows it to Chucky, who literally flips over the back of the couch, screaming like a little girl.
My jaw drops as Pipe flashes me his screen, the image of a Chucky doll in its box. Well, that disproves his whole haunted doll thing.
Everyone is laughing at Chucky but I feel a little bad for him. We all have our irrational fears. Mine are butcher knives. I've seen way too many slasher films.
But he’s still a biker so my judgment on him is still out.
After a few minutes of chatter, I stand and go to the bathroom. Once I finish emptying my bladder, I step out of the bathroom, but don't close the door.
Maybe I'm just a natural eavesdropper.
