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Molly’s eyes widened when I rushed toward her, pushing her back against the seat as I straddled my bike, covered her body with mine, and lowered my head. We had to remain still. If we moved, they’d hear us. We had to stay here, hope they didn’t see us, and only leave the alley once we were sure they wouldn’t hear or spot us.
There was enough moonlight to glow over the surface of her skin as my gaze narrowed to her face, sweeping over her high cheekbones and glossy lips and rising to stare into her beautiful hazel eyes. They seemed almost iridescent under the moon, framed by thick black lashes. But in those bluish-green depths, I could see her pleading for me to keep her safe.
I will, I swore, willing her to understand what I couldn’t dare to say aloud.
She blinked, and a single tear leaked from her eye and slid down her temple, disappearing into her hair. Aw, fuck. I hated to see a woman cry, especially Molly.
Babe, I mouthed,I got you.
The voices grew louder.
“Fuck, man. I could swear I saw them turn down this way.”
“There isn’t shit here except for this dumpster.”
“And the crates,” the first guy added.
Fuck!
Molly’s eyes widened, and she grabbed my leather cut around the shoulders, gripping it with clenched fingers.
She stared at me like I was her fucking hero, and something flared to life inside me. A tiny spark that dared to want to be her white knight and save her. But life wasn’t a fable, and I sure as fuck wasn’t a prince.
Molly wasn’t rescued by the good guys. She only traded one MC for another. The Feral Rebels might be dark and wicked, outlaws and rule breakers, but we lived by a code and stood by it. It was a hell of a lot more than she would have gotten from the Bladed Serpents.
The pile of crates only hid us if we stayed flat, so I pressed tighter against her chest, trying not to focus on how her nipples pebbled as they brushed my shirt. I swallowed as I realized they sharpened to points and poked through her bra, hardening to diamonds.
Fuck. Me.
This was the wrong fucking time to sport wood, but I couldn’t prevent it. My dick swelled, growing thick as the bulge grew and twitched, eager to sink between her thighs.
Goddamn. I was fucking screwed.
I COULDN’T GO BACK to Angel, the Bladed Serpents MC, or Fred. And that wasn’t the worst. No, it was that big biker, the one they called Scourge. I shuddered as I refused to think about what he’d done while I was on stage. The assaults. The screams. The dullness in that girl’s eyes. If Slash hadn’t intervened, Scourge would have kidnapped me. I would have suffered the same fate. Slash saved me from a brutal assault.
Slash’s big frame pressed to my body from shoulder to groin, trapping me between him and his bike. Our faces were only a few inches apart. The shadows concealed us for the most part and hid his features. I couldn’t tell what he thought, but I could guess with the way his body tensed.
When those voices grew closer, I trembled, clutching at Slash’s shoulders and leather vest. With my back resting against the seat, my feet didn’t touch the ground. It made me feel panicky until I realized Slash’s boots were firmly planted on either side of his Harley. He anchored me, and a little of the fear melted away.
I trusted him.
The second he realized it, his dark gaze swung back to me, focusing on my face instead of the heavy boots on the ground and the Bladed Serpents talking a few feet from where we hid.
Oh, God. They were too close.
My body shook as I remained motionless, not daring to move but too frightened to stop the shaking muscles or reaction of my body.
Slash frowned, and I didn’t blame him. He pressed tighter against me, giving just enough of his weight and body heat that I could feel the beating of his heart as it crashed against his ribcage. When I took a breath, my breasts flattened against his chest, my nipples poking into the thin material of his shirt.
I couldn’t help it. My back slightly arched with the contact.
The moon chose that moment to break free from a cluster of thick clouds, revealing Slash’s clenched jaw and the fierce determination in his dark eyes. We locked into a staring contest that ended when a rustle of clothing caught our attention.
Oh. Shit.
One of the bikers stood on the other side of the wall of crates. If he moved any of them, we would be caught and powerless to prevent another kidnapping. Furious determination settled over handsome features as Slash eyed those crates. He would kill to protect me. I knew that. He’d already done it before we left After Hours.
He panted quiet breaths, waiting, so fucking tense his body had gone stiff. And then I felt another part of him hardening, seeking the warmth between my thighs, unable to retreat but also unable to breach the barrier of my shorts. His cock turned to steel. The thick rod glided across my core when his body slightly shifted.
