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Wrecker.
I saw a bearded man with a handsome face. Though my right eye was blurry because I had lost my contact lens when the man slapped me, I recognized those piercing blue eyes staring at me intensely.
"Are you okay, darlin?" he asked, his deep voice sending a flutter to my stomach.
"Billy?"
"No one calls me that," he grumbled as his brows knitted. Then his eyes widened when he recognized me. "Elle?"
It was Billy Cooper. The boy I was in love with since high school.
He was standing so close and smelled of leather and masculinity.
He glared at the man and said through gritted teeth, "I'm sending this dipshit home with his face and hands smashed up."
Billy pulled both me and Sarah to stand behind him before he swung, landing a punch in the man's nose. The man staggered, and his back slammed into the bar. Billy took a step and wrapped his fists into the man's suit jacket, then shoved him forward. The man stumbled and fell to the floor; his buddies weren't laughing by then and just stood frozen. The fear in their eyes said it all - they were afraid to mess with an outlaw motorcycle club member.
In the next instant, the man bellowed in pain when Billy hiked his booted leg and began to stomp on the man's hand, crushing it.
Someone dropped a glass as it shattered to the floor, and the four men threw on their suit jackets, scrambling fast to pay their tabs and leave the club.
Billy stepped over the man blubbering and crying on the floor and began to stomp on his other hand several times.
"Wrecker! Don't leave a fucking mess on my floor! Please!" The woman working behind the bar yelled out.
They called him Wrecker.
The man who carded us at the door appeared, helped Billy haul the man to his feet, and shoved him toward the entrance.
Billy returned a few seconds later and lifted my chin to get a closer look at my cheek, which throbbed in pain. "Sorry, I couldn't get here fast enough before that dick-wad slapped you, Elle."
I held his big hand against my cheek, feeling his warmth. "I'm okay, Billy. Or is it Wrecker now?"
He chuckled, "Call me Wrecker. A lot has changed since high school."
I pulled Sarah beside me, "You remember Sarah, right?"
Wrecker's eyes widened as he recognized her. "Hey Sarah, it's been a while."
"So good to see you again, Billy… I mean Wrecker." Sarah replied, swaying a bit on her heels.
He chuckled, and he took my hand. "You and Sarah, follow me to a private room to talk."
But Sarah didn't budge. "I've had enough craziness for the night. I'm going to Uber home."
I turned to Wrecker, "I'm staying with you tonight."
Wrecker smiled, then waived over a wide, tall man with a boyish face wearing the same MC vest. The patch, Griz, was sewn on the front. Griz offered his big paw-like hand to Sarah, and she took it, then walked her outside with him.
I followed Wrecker around the club's perimeter, down a dark hallway, then into a private room. I looked around the dimly lit space as Wrecker closed and locked the door. Two zebra print couches faced each other, and a glass coffee table was in the middle. The music playing loudly from the main floor could be heard inside the room.
Wrecker closed the door, locked it, then took a few steps and closed the distance between us in the small room. "What the hell are you doing in a strip club?"
"Our fifteen-year high school reunion was at National Harbor tonight, but we didn't want the night to end, and Sarah told me her soon-to-be ex-husband came to this club. So we got an Uber to drive us here -"
Wrecker wrapped his strong arms around my waist the next instant, crushing to his chest. He smashed his lips over mine, and my hands were in his thick, dark brown hair. We kissed in frenzied passion, our tongues flicking and tasting, consuming.
He groaned against my mouth, and I inhaled sharply when his warm hands moved down my waist and squeezed my ass, pressing me against him.
