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His words offer comfort, but I can’t help but feel the tension in the room, the events we’ve just experienced hanging heavy in the air. Despite the emotional turmoil, I can’t deny that his presence is soothing. Knowing that he’s watching over me, keeping me safe, brings a sense of security I’ve never experienced before.
“Thank you, Daniel,” I say. He cracks a small smile. “You may as well call me Slash,” he says.
“Slash?” I repeat. “Is it because of…” I gesture to the angry scar across his cheekbone. He nods. “Club name I earned early on,” he says. “Motorcycle club, that is.”
I nod mutely, not knowing what to say to that.
“It’s not likeSons of Anarchy,” he says wryly. Then he tilts his head. “Well, I guess maybe it’s kind of like that. But only on the surface.”
“Okay,” I say. “Um, Slash.” I have a million questions I want to ask, but I’m too exhausted to begin.
I try to sleep when he turns out the bedside lamp, but after tossing and turning for twenty minutes, I sit up and switch it back on. “I’m not going to be able to sleep with you sitting in that uncomfortable chair,” I say. “Just come lie down here and sleep next to me.” I scoot to the very edge of the queen-size bed and pat the space I just made. Slash stares at the bed, then back at me, and there’s a look of unmistakable hunger on his face.
Finally, he nods and stands up. I expect him to slip into the bed beside me in his clothes, but he starts to unbuckle his belt. “Uh,” I say awkwardly.
“I can’t sleep in these,” he says, but he pauses, waiting for my response. I gulp and nod, then look away, and he unzips his jeans. I hear them sliding over his thighs and can’t help sneaking a glance. He’s wearing briefs that leave very little to the imagination, and suddenly my mouth is dry. I quickly look away again, and Slash sits on his side of the bed. It dips under his massive frame, and I have to scramble to avoid rolling toward him. Facing away from him, I pull the comforter up to my chin and close my eyes. A second later, he lies down, and I can feel his breath in the dip at the back of my dress. Involuntarily, I shift slightly toward him. It’s not an invitation, not exactly, but he responds by moving closer and wrapping one massive arm around my waist. I’m painfully aware of his hand resting on my stomach. A small part of me—okay, a big part—wishes the fabric between us would disappear.
I glance over my shoulder to find him staring at me, and his intense eyes send a shiver down my spine that he feels. He misinterprets it as fear and lifts a hand to smooth the hair away from my face. “I’ve got you,” he whispers, and his hot breath on my neck sends a flood of heat to my center. I press the length of my body back against him and lace my fingers through his.
We lie like this for several minutes in silence until Slash flexes the arm that isn’t wrapped around me. I sense that he’s uncomfortable with it stuck between us, so I let go of his hand and raise my side enough for him to slip his other arm underneath me. Now I’m wrapped fully in his arms, and I’ve never felt so safe in my life. Slash starts to run his fingers along my side, and I let out a sigh that prompts a groan from him. He buries his face in my neck and inhales, squeezing me against him. I shift my hips slightly and find that he’s hard.Insanelyhard. I turn my head so I can feel his beard against my cheek, and all of a sudden, his lips are on mine.
The kiss is hungry, desperate, like we’ve been separated for too long and can’t bear to be apart any longer—which is crazy, considering my only physical contact with him before tonight was the humiliating face-nuzzling debacle. But it feels like we’ve been building up to this for ages. With every movement of his tongue against mine, I feel more desperate for him.
His hand snakes under the blanket and slides up my thigh, sending a jolt of electricity through me at his touch. He gently spreads my legs and pulls one over his waist so I’m wide open. While he teases slow circles on my inner thighs with one hand, he shifts so he can slip the other under the neckline of my dress. I bite down on his lip when he finds one nipple and rolls it gently between his fingers. The bite seems to set something off in him, and he grips my panties in his fist until they’re tight against my hips, then tears the thin lace away.
My breath is coming in short, sharp gasps as his fingers make their way toward my clit. He slides them deliciously along my skin and presses down lightly in a steady rhythm that soon has me whimpering. It’s all too much—his fingers are moving over my breasts and between my legs in rhythm with his tongue in my mouth, and I’m lost in the overwhelming sensation of it all. His fingers move faster now, sending shockwaves of pleasure through my body until I can’t take it any longer. With one final squeeze of his fingers on my nipple, I’m over the edge, shuddering and crying out against his lips.
As I slowly come back to reality, Slash gently cradles me against him and kisses my neck tenderly. The intensity of the last few minutes and the horror of the scene earlier finally crash over me in a wave of exhaustion. I expect Slash to want me to return the favor, but instead, he just holds me close as I drift to sleep.
CHAPTER5
Slash
I wakeup in my motel room, my body aching from the previous night’s events, and reach for Sadie. But I’m alone. The spot beside me on the bed is empty, the sheets cold, but the lingering scent of her tells me it wasn’t all a dream. She must have slipped out early to go home and change before coming back for her shift. I wish she’d stayed, her warmth pressed against me, her soft breaths lulling me back to sleep.
I groan, remembering her soft skin under my fingers and her sweet tongue in my mouth. I’m already hard—probably still from last night—and it only takes a few strokes with my nose buried in her pillow before I’m spilling all over the sheets. Thank God she’s not the one doing the laundry in this place.
I can’t stop thinking about what happened last night. The attempted robbery, the violence that followed, and the unexpected intimacy that had us clinging to each other in the aftermath. It all feels like a blur.
My concern for Sadie’s safety has grown exponentially. I couldn’t bear the thought of something happening to her. Those feelings make sense to me—wanting to keep her out of danger—but it’s not just her safety that’s on my mind. There’s something about her that tugs at my cold heart, her sweet innocence and her strength captivating me in a way I haven’t experienced before.
I take a long, hot shower, letting the water wash away the tension in my muscles and the lingering remnants of last night’s turmoil. When I’m done, I dress quickly, pulling on my jeans and a black T-shirt that clings to my chest. My mind is still filled with thoughts of Sadie, and I can’t shake the feeling that the danger isn’t over.
I step out of my room and into the lobby, planning to grab some lunch, and Sadie is here already. She’s talking to the cops again, but she sneaks a shy smile at me that I feel in my dick. My instincts kick in immediately, and I stand close, arms crossed, and watch the interaction closely, wary of their intentions. I’ve never been one to trust the law. The MC handles its own shit, and that’s how I plan to keep things.
The officers inform Sadie that the man I knocked out last night, Jared Baxter, was connected to drug dealers, and my protective instincts flare up even stronger. I know firsthand how vicious and ruthless these people can be, and I won’t let them lay a finger on her.
The police turn their attention to me next, questioning me further about the events. I have to be careful with my words, making sure not to reveal too much about myself or why I’m here. I tell them it was a clear-cut case of self-defense, that I had no choice but to intervene when I saw Sadie in danger. They seem satisfied with my explanation, but I can’t help but feel uneasy with their continued presence.
With a steely resolve, I make a silent vow to protect her at all costs. I won’t let her become another victim, another name on the long list of people I’ve lost. She’s not mine—not yet—but try telling that to my animal brain. That part of me wouldn’t hesitate to risk my life every day if that’s what it takes to keep her safe.
* * *
As much as I want to wrap her in my arms and keep her next to me all day, Sadie’s working, so I take my laptop and phone and set up at one of the tiny tables in the coffee area. I plan to spend the rest of the day digging into the Iron Serpents, the Reapers’ long-time rivals—the bastards who slaughtered my family eight months ago.
I was never close with my deadbeat dad or my emotionally absent mom, and I’ll admit that losing them wasn’t life-shattering for me. But losing my little brother, Tommy, nearly killed me. He was only seventeen when those animals broke into my parents’ house in this shitty little nothing town I grew up in.
I stupidly thought my family would be off the radar in Packwood, an hour away from our base and two hours from Granger, where the Serpents spend most of their time, although they roam this whole region like a pack of coyotes. I was wrong. After a deal went south because the Serpents tried to fuck us over, a few of them tracked down my family—I guess because they were the closest, and Brick’s mom is too well hidden—and killed them all.
