Blood & Rust (Lock & Key #4) (5 page)

BOOK: Blood & Rust (Lock & Key #4)
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THE SHORT CEREMONY HAD FINISHED
, and Dig and Grace had been officially declared husband and wife to the roar of bike engines and cheers and whistles on the One-Eyed Jacks’ property.

The loud party was in full swing, and I had drifted off from the raucous crowd. My spiked heel had ripped the hem of my dress, and I’d retreated into the repair shed to see to the damage. A good excuse to get away.

“Nice legs.”

My head jerked at the sound. There was no mistaking that taunting tone, that sexy I-don’t-give-a-shit ripple to Butler’s deep voice. My back went rigid as my fingers let go of the hem of my dress, the silky wine-colored fabric sliding down my bare legs as I straightened.

Butler’s icy-blue eyes were trained on me through a cloud of smoke, his long and thick pale golden hair its usual mess around his head, like he’d just woken up after a night of debauchery. Knowing him, he probably had and was up for more.

“What are you doing out here?” His gravelly, husky voice tightened my insides into a knot.

“Huh?” was all I could manage. Every cell in my body screamed,
Get the hell out of here!
But I didn’t want to appear to be a scaredy-cat, not to him.

“Nice scowl. You’re the maid of honor, Tania. Shouldn’t you be out there, all smiles, making a toast or saying something…spectacular?”

I let out a small laugh, my shoulders dropping. “I don’t think anyone would notice at this point, do you?”

Dig and Grace’s wedding had been going on for over three hours, and it was definitely nothing like the country-club wedding I had attended with my mother, sister, and brother the week before over in Rapid City.

“What are you doing out here on your own?” I asked. “I thought you were a part of the inner circle or whatever it’s called.”

He exhaled another stream of smoke, his head tilting back, his hand falling at his side, those piercing eyes following my every jittery move. “Not so much anymore. As if you didn’t know.”

Oh, I knew all right. He’d gotten into trouble with Dig for coming on to Grace a couple of weeks ago, and he had gotten sent away up north to another chapter of the club.

“How’s North Dakota?” I asked.

“It sucks.”

“Oh. Sorry.”

“You don’t have to be. It’s my fault anyhow.”

“Yes, it was.”

His eyes narrowed at me. A soft laugh rolled from his sturdy throat.

“They let you come back for this?” I asked.

“Mandatory.”

“Ah, a show of good faith.”

“Something like that.”

“But you’re hiding out in here to avoid everybody?”

“I’m not hiding. I don’t hide.” He exhaled a long, thick plume of smoke. “Just lying low.”

“Right.”

“And what are you doing in here? Too many bikers out there for you? You never hung out with us too much to begin with.”

“The crowd is a little overwhelming.”

He stared at me as he drew on his cig again. “Why is that?” He shifted his weight, his intent gaze bearing down on me with even more weight. The sudden silence between us pressed in on my chest. “We too low-class for you?”

“What?”

“Too rough?” He pushed back from the wall, dropping his cigarette butt to the floor. “Too dirty?” He mashed the cigarette into the cement floor with the heel of his boot and stalked toward me.

My breath hitched. “Give me a break, Butler.”

He stopped before me, a hint of beer and cheap men’s cologne hovering between us. That trademark lazy smile of his that made girls titter for miles swept his face. “Do I overwhelm you? No, seriously, Tania, tell me.”

“You are so full of shit. Are you flirting with me now?”

He chuckled, his index finger flicking the end of my nose. “You’re nervous. Have you been nursing a little crush on me all this time, and I’ve failed to notice?” His warm fingertip crossed down the center of my lips to my chin.

“A crush? On you?” I swatted his finger away. “Hell no.”

“Oh, I’m such a freak, right?”

“Yeah, you kind of are, Blondie.”

He grinned, his white teeth adding a dash of danger to his allure. “I’m such an asshole.”

“A swaggering asshole, to be exact.”

He stood two inches from my face. “A real pain in your ass then.”

“Yep.”

“That’s a mighty beautiful ass, Tania.” His fingers skimmed over the smooth fabric hugging my rear.

I jerked back, a cold shiver racing over my skin.

He gripped my hip with his other hand, pulling me closer to his body, right up against his erection. My insides went haywire at the shocking contact, at his presumption.

“No panties today?” he whispered roughly.

I only shook my head.

He lowered his head to mine. “You came here, to the club, to a party full of bikers from at least four different states, and you didn’t wear any panties?”

I smacked his hand away. “It’s the dress, Butler!”

His hand went to my ass again. “I’m talkin’ about the body underneath the dress, Tania.”

I rolled my eyes, avoiding the fact that he was admiring my body. “With this dress, you can’t wear underwear.” I squirmed in his hold. “It shows all the lines and the…if you…”

His hand slowly stroked the curve of my rear. Up. Down. My breath snagged. Heat radiated over my backside, seeping through my middle, riddling me with a series of explosions, like a minefield.

“Get your hands off me,” I whispered.

He gripped my ass cheek, kneading it. “Ask nice.” His voice was husky, that growliness of it more acute. Rough, playful, daring.

I raised my chin. “Why should I? You should know better.”

“I don’t know anything at all anymore.”

Something in his words, in the raw edge in his tone, pulled me into him. The sculpted angles of his face and his square jaw were downturned. His usually gleaming eyes were now lackluster. Was this sadness, wistfulness?

I touched his arm. “Butler—”

He released me, snapping back from me on a slight shove. His laser shield had gone back up.

Asshole
.

“What’s the matter? They not letting you into the playground anymore?” I asked, a sneer shading my voice. “Not the tough guy you thought you were?”

He glared at me. “Fuck you.”

“No, fuck you, Blondie.”

He leaned into me, the edges of his lips curled. “You jealous your best friend found the man of her dreams and got hitched?”

“I’m happy that she’s happy!”

His alcohol-tinged breath fanned my face. “Yeah, right.”

“I am. He might not be what I wanted for her, but look at them—”

We both turned our attention toward Dig and Grace in the distance through the open main door of the shed. Dig was on one knee, his hands stroking Grace’s thigh, as he tugged on her black garter belt with his teeth. Grace laughed, a hand on his shoulder, and the crowd whooped.

“If that’s not happy, I don’t know what is.” I stared at Butler once more. “You wouldn’t know what that was if it hit you in the head, would you?”

“Would you?” he shot back, his eyes fierce.

Would I?

I wasn’t so sure actually. Blondie had a point. Truth had been spoken, blurted out into the hot afternoon air, and it stung like the jab of a needle, an inoculation a kid didn’t want to have. The blinding light of those words scorched us both as we stood there, searching each other’s eyes, waiting for the answer to a question that we both knew was utterly complicated and would not be given.

The door at the other end of the shed shoved open, metal scraped, and deep laughter gave way to a loud female voice. “Give me that cock now!”

The moment was gone.

Butler gripped my arms and pulled me back into his chest, moving us further into the shed, out of view, behind a towering tool chest.

Enthusiastic grunts and the heavy breathing of the busy couple echoed through the industrial space.

“I know what
that
is. Do you?” Butler whispered in my ear.

I elbowed him in the middle, and he let out a tight chuckle. I stiffened in his grip and pushed away.

He held me fast. “Shh. Trust me, Tania. You don’t want us to be caught listening and watching those two. Ah, geez, look at her go.”

My mouth gaped open. Pushing up her stretchy miniskirt, the woman had the guy on the floor and had scrambled on top of him. She was doing what I believed was called a reverse cowgirl. She held herself up on her arms as she pumped her pelvis up and down, taking him in.

Did she have gymnastics training in order to do that?

I let out an exhale. “Fuck.”

“Yeah.” His warm breath tickled over my neck as his arms tightened around me, and my hand squeezed his forearm.

An illicit thrill shot through me as we watched the live porn show together. I liked Butler’s firm grip on me. I liked the insistent press of his rough erection through the thin silk of my dress up against my rear. I liked his presumption. I liked the smell of ash and tequila wafting from his breath, the incrementally slow rock of his pelvis against me, offering a crude sort of pleasure in friction, his hand pressing into my middle, sliding lower and lower where that ache bloomed.

Oh, what the hell?

I sank against him. A sound erupted in his chest as his one hand slid around my right thigh. My head fell back on his shoulder. I’d always been attracted to Butler. Who wasn’t? Tall, muscular, blond, and blue-eyed, a sparkle of audacity and vulgar ever present in the lick of his gaze. Every girl’s wet dream.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” I breathed, the side of my face pressed against his.

“Whatever the hell I want, which is what you want.” His lips sucked on the skin of my neck.

I turned and gave him my mouth, my fingers sliding through his thick hair.
Oh, that hair.
I’d always wondered what it would feel like. I tugged on it, its softness sliding through my fingers like thick silk, its almost fruity scent gave way to a forest fresh green, an edge of lemon. Energizing, elusive. Enticing.

I wanted more.

We kissed like enemies clanging swords on a battlefield littered with our dead. We were the only survivors locked in the final battle, both of us knowing there would be no victors.

He fisted my hair in his one hand, tugging my head back, and I let out a cry. His other hand gripped my jaw, tilted my face up. Strong, firm hands. Hands that I was sure had killed and tortured. Hands that knew how to use a knife, a gun. Hands that made a mass of chrome and steel zoom across the highway at a hundred miles per hour.

Hands that could hurt me now.

And it only turned me on more.

His fingers drifted down and circled my throat, pressing there. “After this, you gonna go crying to your friend, the bride, and bitch about how I fucked you and left you?”

“No,” I breathed. “And you? You going to brag to your brothers about what an easy lay I was?”

One of his dark blond eyebrows slanted, his thumb grazing my lower lip. “No.”

My tongue swiped at his thumb, and he hissed in air, his eyes glittering.

The biker fucking the Cowgirl just beyond us muttered a mile a minute about how hard his cock was. Loud moans and the sounds of slapping flesh filled the suddenly stifling space.

My fingers curled into Butler’s black T-shirt. “This is for me. Maybe I want to see what all the fuss over you is about. And maybe I want something just for me. I’ll be out of here in a few weeks anyway. Grace doesn’t even know I’m leaving yet. What’s your excuse?”

“I don’t need an excuse.” He turned me in his arms, smashing my back against his broad chest.

His hand found a breast and kneaded it. My insides twanged like overly tight guitar strings. I wanted him to tune me, pull music from me.

“This about getting back at Grace?” I asked, my voice hoarse.

“Maybe yes, and maybe no.”

“At least you’re being honest.”

He laughed.

“Shh. Those two will hear us.”

He pulled my head back, his mouth crashing down on mine. “Do you care?”

“Shut up, and let’s do this already.”

His hands yanked my dress up to my hips, and he moved us backward before pushing me onto a worn vinyl sofa against the wall. I kicked over a pile of magazines, and they tumbled to the floor in a messy heap.

BOOK: Blood & Rust (Lock & Key #4)
8Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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