Born to Ride: A Biker Erotic Romance (Blue Mustangs MC) (5 page)

CHAPTER TEN

Somehow he managed to get her off the bike, their clothes collected, and into the house. Still slightly brain-dead, Christian remembered that they’d laughed a lot, that they’d stumbled a couple of times, and that he’d had trouble making his hands stop shaking enough to open the lock.

He’d wanted Sandy in his bed, or somewhere near it. They settled on the shower. There wasn’t much washing done, but there were more acrobatics and a senses-draining oral ending that made him glad the soap dish could support the weight of a full grown man.

Sandy couldn’t remember a time when she’d been this needy for a man. There was no getting enough when it came to Christian. It would make for a sore morning tomorrow, but it would be worth it.

They made it to the bed, finally, and all she could do was sprawl across it and try to catch her breath. Her knees were raw from the carpet on the floor outside the bathroom, and her thighs had taken on a permanent tremor.

The sight of her, arms and legs thrown wide across his big bed, naked as the day she was born, had Christian hard again in seconds. No woman had ever been in his bed. He came to them, he never brought them home. What made her different? It was a question for another time. Christian climbed up next to her, lifted one half-limp arm, and let it fall onto his chest.

“You’ve killed me.”

Sandy’s voice was so muffled by the comforter that at first he hadn’t understood her. “You’re still talking. Pretty good for a zombie.”

Halfheartedly, she smacked his chest. “I can’t stay.”

“Mmmm, yes you can. I can’t drive in this condition.” That teasing southern drawl made her skin go all hot.

Barely raising her head, she took a good long look at the area he was indicating, eyes wide at the sight of his renewed hardness. “That’s it. You’re a real cyborg, and that tattoo was me seeing the future.”

“It’s your fault. I’m not the one who decided to sprawl fully nude on top of my bed.”

“I’m nude because I can’t walk to find my clothes.” She walked her fingers up his chest and ran her fingers over his swollen lips. They matched hers.

“If you’re dead set on it, I’ll try to control my randy partner and take you home.” He chuckled when she looked up long enough to stick her tongue out at him.

Reality took that moment to rear its ugly head. He could see it hit her. She was in his bed, the bed of the man Atticus hated. If he took her home, Atticus would know what they’d been doing. She didn’t want him to know. It was plain on her face. He turned his head away and tried to keep the anger he felt out of his voice. “Don’t worry, pretty girl. I’ll drop you back at your shop so he’ll never know I had my hands on his precious daughter.”

Sandy could hear the anger he was trying to mask. Could feel it all around him. “Christian, I don’t know what is going on with you two, and I won’t beg you—or him—to tell me. No, I don’t want him to know that I was with you right this very second.”

She got up and straddled his lap, forcing him to look up at her. “I don’t even know where this is going, Christian. If I don’t know what this is, how am I supposed to explain that to the man who raised me?”

Christian nodded. She was making sense, dammit. He wanted her to crow about her night with him so he could watch Atticus’ head blow, but at the same time he didn’t want anyone to know. He wanted to keep her all to himself for a while longer. Sandy Rivers wasn’t like the other women he’d spent his time with, and he needed time to process that.

Smacking her soundly on the ass, Christian sat up and tossed her over onto her back on the bed. She bounced once and giggled. “I’ll get your clothes.”

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Sandy nodded off more than once on the ride back to the shop. She was exhausted, and a little sore. If she hadn’t been so tired she might have noticed the light in the office upstairs go out quickly.

Christian stopped and turned off the bike. He took off his helmet, surprised when she didn’t move. “Tired?”

She nodded, knowing he’d feel it against his back.

“Promise you’ll be careful going home?”

She nodded again, a small smile crossing her lips. “Same to you. It’s late and you know what that means for folk like us.”

He chuckled lightly. “Yep. Must be up to no good.”

“Well, it isn’t a lie. We were up to no good.” She rubbed her cheek against the fabric of his t-shirt and sighed. Moving was not high on her list of things to do, but she made herself get off the bike.

If she’d thought she was just going to walk away, she was wrong. Christian grabbed her hand and pulled her back to him, holding her close to his chest for a minute and kissing her gently to keep from aggravating the rash his beard had left on her face. “This still isn’t over, pretty girl.”

Something inside her softened even more. “I guess we’ll see what the morning brings. Goodnight, Christian.”

“Goodnight, Sandy.”

He watched to make sure she got safely onto the road to her house, just a mile away from the club. When she rounded the corner slowly he pulled out and headed home.

*****

He hit the speed dial on his cell. “Wake up. He’s headed your way.”

“Atticus, I have to ask again—are you sure you want me to do this?”

“Do what I paid you to do.” Atticus hit the end button and tossed the phone into his desk drawer. Tomorrow he’d get rid of it.

*****

He took the drive home slower than usual. His body was tired, but his brain just wouldn’t shut off. Sandy had him all twisted up in knots and that was something that hadn’t happened in a long time.

Mainly, he wondered what it was that Atticus truly had against him. He’d been tolerant of him when he was new, even agreeing with some of his ideas. Then something had happened. If he only knew what that was, maybe he could reason with the old man.

Sure, there were rumors about him. Lots of them over the last four years. He’d been more than a little wild in the beginning. Drinking too much, sleeping around, and racking up fist fights. He’d thought that the life was just that—one big party.

Christian’s past was his past. He’d left it there three years ago and hadn’t looked back. He’d straightened up his act and made friends. Put down roots. Gotten involved in the real work that a club could do. Good work. He had the shop and his house, work he loved and people who cared what happened to him.

Sandy. She was like the missing piece of a puzzle. She fit in the empty spot so perfectly that it was seamless. What did it mean that he’d broken all his rules for her? He’d broken them, and if he were being honest he’d admit that it had nothing to do with pissing off Atticus. He realized that not one second of his time with Sandy really had anything to do with Atticus, other than giving him an excuse to get close to her.

Tomorrow the shop closed at noon. As soon as he was cleaned up, he was going to hunt down Atticus and have a long overdue talk. Find out once and for all what it was that he hated about him so much. He had to face the old man if he was considering anything long term with Sandy—and he was seriously considering it.

Lost in those images of her on his bed, he didn’t see the car until it was too late.

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