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It had taken every ounce of control he had not to grab her and drag her back to his bed this morning. Though he didn’t think she would have objected. For as alpha as he was with most aspects of his life, especially his relationships, he needed to do this on her terms. If time was what she required, then he would give it to her. If the morning encounter was any indication, he wouldn’t have to wait too long. He got off on her not wanting to end their kiss. It was almost a demand when he tried to end it the first time around. She was feeling him as much as he was feeling her if that was even possible. Trax was stepping into new territory with Cheyenne. She wasn’t part of his world, but she would be. He had to figure out the how of going about it. Unlike the girls from the club, she wasn’t a good-time girl or looking to snag a member for old-lady status. If he had to guess, when Cheyenne fell for a man, she was all in for him. He wanted to be that guy. Their rocky start would surface a trust issue, which would only be compounded by last night’s event.
He glanced up, taking a long look in the mirror. Aside from the club, he never needed to prove anything to anyone. He was who he was, and if people didn’t like it, they could fuck off. He drew in a deep breath. Except her. Trax was set to prove to Cheyenne she could trust him with everything.
Chapter Seven
She cupped her mouth as she yawned while turning into the lot of her building. The day had been too long. She should have taken a nap as soon as she’d gotten home in the morning, but she’d been riddled with too much energy. Her body had felt like a live wire, unable to settle and on the verge of catching flames. All from one kiss? The kiss. She hadn’t realized how much she’d wanted it until his lips had touched hers. Then she was done. Ah, this guy. He was all wrong for her. Yet, everything felt right when he’d soothed her after her meltdown in the club. The way he’d approached her, reassuring he wouldn’t let anyone hurt her. The crazy part was she actually believed him.
Trax had been in her head the entire day and well into her shift at the bar. She found herself staring at other men while working and comparing them to him. There was no comparison. She couldn’t ever remember being so attracted to a man.
Maybe she had it all wrong. When it came down to it, Trax protected her. He’d cared for her in his room. Hell, he’d had someone sit with her so she wouldn’t be alone. Those were good-guy traits, not bad. He’d spoken sweetly with concern and vowed to take care of the problem. And he was friggin’ hot. If she spent too long thinking about his abs, her body heated with a prickled tingling all over her skin. Why shouldn’t she pursue something with him?
He belongs to a motorcycle club who obviously dabbles on the other side of the law. Perfect example—the severed finger. The club’s desperate need to find the driver meant they were seeking retribution, which probably meant more than just a scolding. Trax was rough, possibly dangerous, and in the end, no matter how much he apologized, he hadn’t lived up to his word about taking care of my issue with the guys from my apartment.
Her shoulders sagged as she trudged through the parking lot. It was two in the morning, and she needed to get into bed, close her eyes, and forget about the sexy biker who was all wrong for her.
Cheyenne scanned the dark path illuminated only by the broken street lamp. She gripped the mace tightly in her fist. Shit. She hadn’t been prepared for them to show up tonight. It seemed even a knife-wielding homeless man couldn’t scare away these assholes. They were gathered toward the corner of her building. She glanced over at the stairs, considering her odds of making it to the door if they decided to come at her again. The odds weren’t in her favor. She stopped about ten feet away, contemplating her next move. She could turn around, call the police, and wait in her car, but what would that get them? A ticket for loitering at most. She should have reported their attack on her, but instead, she’d taken the word of a man who’d broken his promise before. Not a smart move, moron.
Although his track record hadn’t been good, she’d actually believed Trax when he’d said he would handle it. She snorted at her own stupidity. How she could put trust in a group of bikers was beyond her own comprehension.
She drew in a deep breath and glared at the three men who’d yet to acknowledge her appearance. No, I will not run. She straightened her shoulders and dug into her bag, pulling out her keys. She wouldn’t be blindsided this time. She positioned the key between her fingers as a makeshift knife and propped her index finger on the mace.
She walked confidently and hurried to the steps. She was a few feet away from the stairs when they caught sight of her. Shit. They laughed at something and didn’t notice her at first. Damn her timing. She double-stepped to the entrance. She was so close. But not quick enough. The tallest of the three sprinted in front of the steps, blocking her.
“Look who we have here, boys.” His sinister cackle drove a shiver over her body. Oh God.
“Move now, or I’ll call the cops.”
The corner of his mouth curled, and he stepped toward her. Her immediate reaction was to step back, and when she did, another one wrapped his arms around her waist, confining her arms to her sides. She opened her mouth to scream, but the guy in front of her shoved his dirty hand over her mouth. She thrashed as she’d done the night before and kicked out in hopes of making contact. Her effort was fruitless. The man holding her started toward the alley. De ja vu.
They made it just past the threshold of the alley—the space drowning in darkness. She moved her mouth in hopes of biting the disgusting hand. She felt the skin between her teeth and clenched hard. He yelped and yanked his arm away. But only for a second before she watched his balled fist aim straight for her face. Pain shot through her cheek and eye. It felt as though she’d been sliced open on her cheekbone.
“Big fucking mistake, cunt.”
Panic set in, and she grasped against the man’s legs in a last-ditch effort to get free. If she pinched him hard enough, maybe he’d be forced to let her go.
“Get your hands off her.” The voice echoed in her ears. It wasn’t a loud scream or shout. The words were slow and sinister. It was the most beautiful sound to her ears as her relief set in.
The guy in front of her blocked her view, but his hand fell from her mouth. Both perpetrators were now staring down into the darkness of the alley. She couldn’t see who they were looking at, but from their faces, they knew they were fucked. She, on the other hand, knew exactly who the graveled, deep voice belonged to. Her heartbeat grew faster even as her body sagged in relief. Cheyenne was abruptly released. She lost her footing at the sudden release and dropped to her knees.
The guys quickly scurried away toward the end of the alley. Loud footsteps pounded past her. Pressure gripped her waist, and she jerked her head to see Trax lifting her off the ground and turning her toward him. His face was hard in sharp edges. He was furious. His hand grazed over her cheek. He was in a trance filled with anger and rage. His nostrils flared, and he clenched his jaw. She didn’t know him well, but she recognized the look. He was ready to explode.
Her thoughts from ten minutes ago had been completely diminished. His touch, tender and gentle, was a complete contrast to his rigid and fury-ridden body.
She didn’t even think before bringing her hand to his face, cupping his jaw. Her fingers caressed his stubbled cheeks. “I’m okay.” She nestled closer, strumming her thumbs against his cheeks. “I’m fine, Trax.” She tried to calm him down but seemed to be having the opposite effect.
Her words only seemed to anger him more. He pulled her against his chest, his lips slamming against hers. She was completely caught off guard and gasped. The last thing she’d expected him to do was kiss her, but his mouth moved over hers in a desperate flurry. His tongue slid past her lips and tangled with hers. She lost her breath from his tight grip holding her. The kiss was hard and powerful, as if he needed it. This was his confirmation that she was okay. His mouth devoured hers while her fingers softly caressed his face in contrast.
The background sound of grunts and groans seemed to pull him out of whatever trance he’d been in during their kiss. He shifted her into the curve of his chest to glare over her shoulder, the anger blazing back into his eyes.
“Trax,” she whispered, and his stare jerked to her. She leaned in, kissing his lips softly. “Really. I’m okay.”
Something shifted in his face, and he gazed down at her lips again before separating their bodies, and then grabbed her hand and pulled her deeper into the alley. As they closed in on the three guys, she noticed only one was still standing; the other two lay motionless on the ground. The largest and scariest of the bikers, Rourke, dragged a bloodied guy toward them.
“Saved you one.” He pushed the guy forward, and she recognized him as the one who’d held her and dragged her into the alleyway.
It all happened so fast. One second Trax held her hand, and the next, he pounded on the guy. He took a swing, catching his jaw, and the guy stumbled back, landing hard on the ground. Trax stalked over, reaching down, lifting him as if he weighed nothing, and punched him in the stomach, forcing the guy to heave forward with a string of blood flying from his mouth. The beating was so violent she stepped back. He landed another punch, and the guy flew to the ground, not moving.
He stood over the guy and looked across his shoulder at her. “You want me to finish him?”
