Lay It Down: Bastards MC Series Boxed Set (12 page)

He looked away then and picked up his beer. “She doesn’t have me, Joes.” He took a big gulp. “You do. I've always been yours.”

The last words were so quiet that I almost missed them. I didn’t understand. He must mean because he was here, in a bar with me on a weekday night when we both had to work in the morning, so I wouldn’t have to deal with the reality of my life alone.

“I know." I sat up, moving back into my own chair. "I'm drunk and being…" I couldn't think of the word. I shook my head again. "You are a great friend.” I smiled. “I’d be lost without you. I love you. I hate her. Very simple. And she really doesn’t deserve you.”

He shook his head, looking back at me. “No, Jo. She doesn’t have me. We broke up.”

The words took a few seconds to sink in. I was shocked. “What? When? Why?”

“Earlier this week.”

I stared at him, willing him to explain.

He motioned toward the bar with his beer bottle. “Because of this. Because of Friday.” He took another drink. “Because I want something I can’t have.” He put the bottle down. “Because of you.”

Before I could think about what he was saying, his hands were in my hair and his lips were on mine. It was sweet and soft. I leaned into him, moving my lips against his. His tongue pushed at my bottom lip, and I opened my mouth, letting it in. He was taking over my senses. I could taste his beer mixed with the alcohol from the shot, all I could smell was his cologne, and the only thing I heard was the pounding of my heart in my ears. My hands balled into fists in his shirt as I pulled him closer. It wasn’t close enough. I wanted more. Much more.

He pulled back slightly. He was as out of breath as I was, and for a minute, he rested his forehead on mine. Suddenly he sat up, pulling the fabric out of my hands. “Joes? We can’t do this. You’re drunk off your ass and…” He picked up his bottle and took a long drink.

I was suddenly pissed. “And what? I’m not the girl you want to be making out with in a bar? Afraid someone, like maybe Short Shorts, might see you?"

“No!” he snapped, obviously as irritated as I was. “But I can tell you that you will thank me tomorrow morning.”

I was suddenly ashamed. "I get it. I'm the friend, not the hot blonde."

Matt made a weird face. "Now you're being melodramatic and ridiculous."

I was not being dramatic! "Listen, we both know you're here because I'm the burdensome best friend that you have to make sure gets home okay." I stood up and downed the rest of my drink, just for flare. I cringed at the thoughtless act. “Whatever, Matt.”

He was smirking at me.

“Take me home,” I said.

The walk back to my hotel was quiet and slow. I wouldn’t let him help me walk, and my feet did not want to cooperate. I was surprised when we made it back without me falling. I debated sitting down once we were on the elevator but was sure I wouldn’t be able to stand up once I was down. and I’d be damned if I’d let Matty help me. Instead, I leaned against the wall and silently begged the world to stop whirling as the elevator climbed. As soon as we reached my floor, I realized I hadn’t brought my purse and didn’t have my key. Seeing my face, he pulled his out of his back pocket and waved it at me. I’d forgotten that he had one too. I let him get off the elevator first and open my door. I went into my room ahead of him, threw my phone on the table next to me, and kicked off my heels.

I turned to look at him then, knowing he was probably angry with me. He could be pissed off all he wanted—I was mad at him too. One look at him though, and I was completely distracted. He was leaning against the closed door with his hands in the pockets of the jeans that fit him just right, watching me as if he expected me to keel over where I stood. He was so sexy, all dark and brooding, and I had to have him. Now.

Looking him in the eye, I unbuttoned my shirt slowly and pushed it off my shoulders and onto the floor. His eyes strayed from mine, watching as my hands trailed down my breasts and belly, and I unbuttoned my jeans.

“Jo?” The voice was confused, unsure of why I was stripping in front of him.

Before I could push the denim over my hips in what was supposed to be a super sexy move, the world started to spin. Laughing, I stumbled back.

“Jo!” A hand grabbed my arm, steadying me. “You are beyond drunk.” There was no humor in his voice.

“I’m not drunk!” I narrowed my eyes at the chest in front of me, following it up until I met his eyes. “Oh, there you are. Hi!” I smiled, giggling again.

“Of course you’re not. Can I help get you into bed?”

“Only if you’re naked and getting into bed with me.”
Oh no! Filter, you’re supposed to engage!
I giggled again. “What I meant to say”—I grabbed the top of his jeans under his white T-shirt—“is that you can help by getting naked and getting into bed.”

“Jo, stop.” He moved my hands but didn’t let them go. “You need to sleep this off.”

I stepped into him, closing the small gap, and slid my hands under his shirt. Oh, my god. My fingers slid upward over hard-as-rock muscle, and I could feel his flesh pimple into goose bumps. “I’m going to bed, but sleep is the last thing I need.”

Matty grabbed my arms and pulled them away from him. “You don’t want to do this. Come on, Joes, you know you don’t.”

I didn’t know that at all. I knew I didn’t need to sleep it off. I knew I needed sex. I needed his arms around me and him to fuck me three ways from Sunday. Then it hit me. “You’re not attracted to me.” I shook my head. “I really don’t turn you on, do I?”

His face softened a little. “Joes.” He sighed. "I’m trying to save you from making a mistake. I'm not the kind of guy you want in your bed.”

I glared at him. What? Yes, he was, but he was doing that stupid Matty trick that made me feel better about an awful situation. I had totally read him all wrong. But he’d had such an urgency when he kissed me, as if he’d been waiting to do it all night. “Why’d you kiss me then?”

He sighed again, but this time he was annoyed. “You are so drunk.” He shook his head as if I was a naughty child and he, as my parent, couldn’t believe my unsightly behavior. “Let’s talk about this later.”

But I wanted to talk about it now. “What it is about me that disgusts you so much? I may not be tall and blond and perfect, but I’m not a fucking troll.”

“I didn’t say you were.”

“Yeah, you kinda just did. Nice try, with the whole 'I'm not the kinda man you want in your bed.' It's not you, it's me, right, Matty? Whatever. You think I’m not good enough for you, the Greek God of… of…” I waved my arm, searching for the right term, but the words never came. “Whatever.” I grabbed my shirt and shoved one arm in then the other, sidestepping him as I struggled to button it.

“What are you doing?” He was clearly annoyed.

I had almost reached the door. “I’m leaving. Going back to the bar.” I turned and faced him. “I’m horny as hell. I haven’t had sex in months. Since I’m not good enough for you to fuck, I’m gonna find someone who will.” I reached for my purse.

“The hell you are!”

His hand wrapped around my arm, and he jerked hard, catching me off guard. He pushed me back into the door, and his lips came down on mine. Alarm bells started ringing. This wasn’t a soft, sweet kiss like before. This was raw, unrestrained, dangerous.

He pulled back, and I was surprised to see his sneer. “See? You can’t even fucking kiss me back! You’re playing with fire here, Jo, and you know it. Make me the bad guy if you want, 'cause that's what I am. If knowing that I'm dangerous helps you walk away, then I'll show you how fucking scary I am!"

He pushed my hands above my head, holding them with one hand while his other roamed over my body, settling on my chest. His mouth descended again, lips rough, demanding. He didn't give me time to kiss him back, moving his mouth to my ear, sucking on the bottom of my lobe and closing his teeth around it. Hard. I hissed.

He moved, grinning at me in sinister triumph. "By the time I get started, you'll be begging me to save you!"

I glared at him. “I don't need you to save me! You don't scare me. I know that you're trying to save yourself from making the mistake of fucking me!” I was shouting and didn’t care. “How awful it would be to have to look yourself in the mirror and know that you got turned on by the fat girl.”

His eyes widened before they narrowed, his jaw clenching, and he looked truly dangerous for a second. “Really?” He laughed humorlessly. “I’m the idiot arguing with the drunk moron, but for the record, I’ve had to look myself in mirror every morning knowing that I want you, knowing that you aren’t mine to want, and knowing I would never have this chance. Now that I have it, all I want to do is throw your drunk ass over my shoulder, strip you naked, and make you scream my name until you forget everyone and everything else. If you remember anything from tonight, remember I had to use every ounce of willpower to try to resist you because I don’t want you to hate me tomorrow.”

I wanted to yell at him, tell him I didn’t believe a word. But I didn’t. His face was so sincere, it cut through the little bit of a buzz I had left. His arms were boxing me in, but I could duck under them and hide in the bathroom until he left, then we could pretend this didn’t happen. That was probably exactly what he expected me to do. Or I could just take the chance and make him love me tonight. Fuck the safe route.

His face was inches away from mine. I reached up, grabbing him behind the neck, and pulled him down again. My lips touched his and he started to pull back, then suddenly he groaned and pulled my body against his, deepening the kiss. This time, I kissed him back.

His hands traced my body, coming up to my half-open shirt. He grabbed the sides and gave it a quick tug. Buttons flew off as it came open, his hands moved inside, and he pushed the shirt the rest of the way off. His lips moved down my neck to the top of my breasts and back up, making me shiver. He pulled back.

“Joes, I'm not…” His voice was full of need. “This isn’t a good idea, but I want you in my bed, your body asking me for more. I want to watch you come apart, hear you beg me to let you come, screaming my name when you lose control. Fucking Christ, Jo, it's taking every ounce I've got to…” He groaned. "This isn't a good idea."

I smiled up at him as I tugged his shirt up and over his head, trying to get to skin so I could kiss him. “Yes, it is.”

I leaned forward, kissing the tattoo on his chest. He sucked in his breath.

“It’s a great fucking idea.” My lips trailed down the anchor, kissing the middle of his belly, stopping right above his pants. “Years in the making.”

I reached for the button of his jeans, but he moved just out of reach. I ached to touch him. All of him.

“Jo. Once we cross that line, we can’t take it back. I don't want to go there with you.”

Right now, I hated him and his mixed signals. I stood up straight and met his eyes. I wiggled my hips as I pushed my jeans down and kicked them out of my way, then I reached behind me, unbuckled my bra, and threw it in the same direction.

He groaned. “Jesus, Jo.”

I smiled. “Whoops. Line crossed.”

He looked down at me. “I want to touch you.” He sighed. “Being the sober one fucking sucks.”

“If you don’t stop talking and start touching, I’m going to explode.” I grabbed him by the jeans, pulling him hard. He fell against me. “I’m not that drunk,” I tried to assure him as I pushed off his jeans. “I know what we’re doing, and I want to do it.” I kissed him. “Don't worry about this.”

He kicked off his jeans, leaning in to kiss me softly, calling my name.

"Matty, please just make me forget everything."

His teeth nipped my bottom lip, fingernails digging into my bare hips as he picked me up and carried me to the bed.

And he did what I asked.

12

My alarm went off, bringing me out of the half sleep state I’d been in for what seemed like forever. I groggily grabbed my phone and poked at the screen, hoping to shut off the buzzing before it got any louder. I sighed in relief when the noise stopped, and I wondered if I could sneak in fifteen more minutes of sleep. Falling back onto my pillow, I stared at the ceiling. My head had a dull pound, and I tried to remember where I’d put my Tylenol.

Then I remembered where I was and whom I was with.

I rolled over slightly, just enough to see him. We had left the shades open earlier, and the early morning sun was just starting to shine on his side of the bed. It gave his bare back a bronze glow, creating a slight shadow in the valley that ran down the middle of his back. I fought the urge to reach out and trace it. He was beautiful on any given day; right now, he was breathtaking.

Lying on his stomach with his arms folded under his pillow, his head was tilted toward me, his chin touching his right shoulder. His dark hair, with the slightest tinge of gray, clumped together in what had been professional spikes just a few hours earlier. A few wisps had escaped and were tickling his forehead. I could just make out the black lines of the tattoos on his back, a few of the indents where his ribs were, and the bulge of his shoulder blade. A small corner of the sheet, flung over his waist, kept him covered just enough to be decent. He looked like an erotic painting or the cover of a steamy smut novel. The bastard looked both youthful and innocent, as well as the sexy-as-hell bad boy.