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She pulled down her shades. “Not literally. Gross.”
I rolled my eyes. She had such a dirty mind and loved to tease me at every opportunity.
Embry lost her V-card at fifteen. She wasn’t shy about her sexual conquests. The girl owned her sexuality and didn’t care about what other people thought of her.
I wished I had that confidence. The couple of encounters I had weren’t all that much to brag about. I didn’t enjoy it like I hoped I would. Sex seemed more for the guy than a girl, in my opinion. But I knew that was formed from inexperience. Maybe someday I’d learn differently and find a guy who could get me off better than my own fingers.
Slash would be the perfect guy to teach me.
“He said he planned to stay for a week. Something about meeting up with another chapter of the Feral Rebels.”
Slash lived in Ohio. Embry said he patched into his club when he was twenty. That was over ten years ago. He was probably too old for me, but I didn’t care. None of the boys my age interested me. I’d always been more mature—an old soul. My mom used to say that all the time when she was still alive.
I winced at the thought. Today wasn’t the day to let those memories overtake me.
“Doesn’t he usually stay at the clubhouse when he comes to Las Vegas?”
She shrugged. “Yeah, but he always stops by to say hi and visit me and my parents.”
I knew from previous conversations that Slash’s mother and Embry’s mother were sisters. Carol, Slash’s mother, still lived in Nevada. Henderson, actually. Embry’s mother, Sandie, was the youngest of the siblings. They also had a brother who lived in Ohio. He was the V.P. of Slash’s club.
I didn’t know his real name, only that Slash called his uncle Grave. Hades was the president. The club originated in Hocking Hills and had branched out into several other chapters in the U.S. According to Embry, Las Vegas was the second largest.
That summed up most of what I knew about Slash. I’d only talked to him for longer than a few minutes a handful of times. But God, he had a deep, gravelly voice that made me shiver and eyes so dark they were pools of liquid onyx. They reminded me of charcoal, gritty, expressive, and highly combustible. When he looked at me, I could swear they were about to ignite at any second.
Embry wasn’t wrong. I’d seen the heated look in his eyes, and it wasn’t only one time. Whenever I caught him staring at me, and it was often, I saw it. But he confused me. He never attempted to touch me, flirt, or do anything inappropriate.
Slash was nothing like the stereotype portrayed of bikers—well, not in mannerisms or behavior. He sure did look the part. I’d never seen a man so covered in black ink. Tall, muscled, bearded, and confident, he had a swagger that turned heads when he walked by. And I still couldn’t forget that sensual, deep timbre when he spoke.
“You’re thinking about him,” Embry laughed. “Admit it.”
“I am.”
“You know, if it was anyone else, I’d say watch out. Those bikers are tough and scary, but not my cousin. Slash isn’t like that.”
I shot her a look. Slash had the same dangerous edge that all bikers seemed to radiate. My experience may be limited, but he did fit the stigma in that aspect. It was the kindness in his tone, the intelligence, and the protective vibe I got from him when he was near that seemed different than the typical cocky bad boy who rode a motorcycle.
“And your uncle,” I pointed out.
She shook her head as a smile curved her lips. “No. Uncle Grave is dangerous. He doesn’t pretend he’s not, either. Not that Slash does. It’s just different with my cousin. I’ve always thought of him as a gentle giant.”
I wondered if Slash would laugh at that description. “Well, I’m getting hot. I say we get in the pool for a bit.”
She snickered. “Okay, Molls.”
I stood and walked to the edge, lowering to my bottom before slipping my feet into the cool water. The sun had heated it, but the contrast felt delicious on my skin. It didn’t take long to cool off. We lounged in the sun most of the afternoon.
After our third dip into the pool, I dried off in the sun. My stomach rumbled loud enough to alarm half of Las Vegas.
Embry ticked her chin at me. “I’m hungry too. I made chicken salad sandwiches and cut up fresh fruit. I’ll go inside and grab it along with the iced tea.”
“I’ll go,” I offered. “I’ve got to use the bathroom after all the water I’ve been drinking.” I showed her the empty tumbler I’d brought with me. The ice clinked against the steel interior as I shook it. “I want to fill this up.”
She waved her hand. “Sounds good to me. “Let me know if you need help.”
“I will.”
I entered her house, made a quick stop to the restroom, and then gathered up the food and filled my tumbler, adding more ice. I brought it outdoors and placed everything on the table between us.
