Wanted: Devil Dogs MC (7 page)

“So why do you still wear the shirt if you don’t want to talk about it?” He takes a sip of his tea, the small cup looking like a toy in his big hand.

She remembers the feel of his hands around her waist, the warmth there, the way he had kissed her like he never wanted to stop. She blinks the image away, but the memory of it is still scorched on her mind. “I wear it to sleep in. You don’t usually expect the third degree when you’re in your pjs.” She tries to brush off the intensity of his stare and fails miserably. He sits there waiting patiently for her to actually answer the question.

Her immediate reaction when anyone asks her about college is to give them the standard spiel – that she’s just trying to get the boarding house straight before she goes back. But something about being here, with Wesley, in the darkness, which is more night than morning, she finds she doesn’t have the energy or even the inclination to lie. “I guess because I don’t want to admit it’s all over, that that part of my life is over and done with.”

“And why is it done with?” He looks at her, his expression neutral but his eyes full of a mix of interest coupled with caution – two feelings she’s become intimately familiar with since he turned up at her door.

“Because I’m here now, because I have to run this place.” She shrugs as if there is no more to it.

She’s surprised when he shakes his head. “I don’t buy it.”

Isabel feels her mouth fall open at the way he sounds so certain of himself. “You don’t buy it?”

“No.” He doesn’t back down from her sarcastic tone. “If you wanted to be in Dallas, you would be in Dallas. Using the boarding house is just an excuse. It doesn’t sound like you.”

Isabel narrows her eyes at him. “You don’t know anything about me!” She almost laughs at the situation – trying to persuade a man she’s barely spoken to that he doesn’t know her better than her most intimate friends.

“I know you’re not a quitter, and I know you’re stubborn as all hell. So if you wanted to do something, you would do it, no matter what stood in your way.” He shrugs as if it’s that simple.

“You got all that insight about me from all the deep conversations we’ve had since you got here?” Her tone is dripping with sarcasm but he doesn’t rise to it.

“Am I wrong?” His eyes throw out the challenge to her.

She breaks eye contact with him, hating the way he seems to be able to read her mind. She stares into the depths of the black tea, as if she might fin some answers there. “No, you’re not wrong.”

“So what gives? What are you doing here when you should be there?” He points to the five-letter word emblazoned across her chest. “What were you studying? Wait, let me guess!” He holds his hand up to her and taps his index finger on his chin, a habit that she’s noticed when he seems to be lost in thought. “Between the way you didn’t faint at the sight of blood, the fact you seem to know your way around a first aid kit, and you’re clearly smart as a whip, I’m guessing nursing.” He snaps his fingers as if he’s got it.

Isabel raises her eyebrows, ready to chew him out for his sexism. “Because, of course, women can only be nurses, right? We couldn’t hope to be doctors or dentists or heart surgeons?”

“A heart surgeon, wow.” He looks at her, clearly impressed.

“I didn’t say that’s what I was studying to be.” Her voice is tart, still smarting from the disappointment that he believes in all the macho bullshit she’s been dealing with since she decided to study medicine. She’s always surprised how many seemingly educated, smart men thought being a doctor was ‘too big a job’ for such a pretty girl. The first time she’d heard that point of view she’d wanted to smack the guy; the second time she’d decided she would beat him in all their tests, and the third time and the times after that she’d barely even registered the words. But something about Wesley thinking that way made her disappointed, as if she had expected better from him; something that was, of course, ridiculous as she knows less about him than she does about the Fed-Ex guy.

“You didn’t have to tell me. Your eyes lit up like a Christmas tree when you said the words. You love it.” He leans forward, almost daring her to disagree. “And don’t try to make me out to be some macho asshole. I’m aware we’re in the twenty-first century, I get that women are pilots and doctors and whatever the hell else they want to be.”

“So why the surprise, then, Mr. Raeburn?” She puts her cup down, abandoning all pretense of drinking the tea.

“Because a lot of girls like you would trade on their looks instead of their brains.” He says the words as if they are a universal truth.

“Girls like me?” She crosses her arms over her chest, feeling her irritation levels rise yet again. Who the hell does this guy think he is, anyway?

“Beautiful girls, Isabel.” His voice is soft, but there’s no mistaking what he’s just said.

In the space of a few seconds, Isabel feels all her anger dissipate into the ether. “Oh.” She shifts uncomfortably from foot to foot, unsure of what to do now that he’s paid her a compliment rather than proven himself to be some knuckle-dragging Neanderthal. “Thanks.” The word comes out more begrudging than grateful and Wesley hoots with laughter.

“You don’t use that word a lot, do you, Bel?” He shakes his head, as if he’s answered his own question. “So who’s Mike anyway?”

The change in conversation is swift and random enough to make her pause. “What?”

“Mike, the guy you were trying to get off the phone earlier.” He prompts her but doesn’t push any further, looking at her expectantly, one eyebrow raised in his trademark expression.

“What about him? He’s a friend.” She shrugs, not wanting to get into this with Wesley. Bringing Mike into this conversation just makes her feel even guiltier over the way she has been treating him.

“It sounded like he was more than a friend to me.”

Isabel catches something in his voice and her eyes widen in surprise. “Are you jealous?” She can barely get the words out, they sound so ridiculous to her. After all, how can a man like Wesley, who she’s known for all of five minutes, be jealous of a guy he knows nothing about?

“Should I be?” The way he looks at her is loaded with meaning and she swallows hard under the intensity of his gaze.

“Mike and I are friends, that’s all.” She doesn’t add the more salient details of their relationship or the fact that Mike is doing his very best to make sure she sees him as more than just a friend. It isn’t the moment to get into that and, besides, what business is it of Wes’s anyway? He isn’t exactly giving her the lowdown on his relationship history.

Wesley looks like he’s about to argue with her, or to push her for more information that she’s not willing to part with, but, instead, he changes tack again. “So what’s the deal? Why aren’t you back at college already?” He leans forward, assessing her, as if he knows all of her tells.

“For a guy who doesn’t like to answer questions, you sure do ask a lot!” She runs her hand through her hair, a nervous habit she’s never quite been able to shake. “What do you want me to say?” She throws her hands up in surrender. “My mom died and, after that, everything seemed pointless. I mean, what’s the point in spending all these years studying so hard to become a doctor when it will never save her? No one could save her. I will never be able to save her. So tell me, Wesley, what’s the point?”

Her voice has started to wobble and she turns away from him, scrubbing at the tears that seem to be rising up behind her eyes. She’s mortified, not only that she’s about to cry in front of a guy who’s more or less a stranger to her, but that she’s been so vulnerable around him. The feelings she’s just exposed are more intimate than the kiss they’d shared, rawer, more painful.

All of a sudden, without even having heard him approach, she feels him behind her. He doesn’t touch her, but she knows that he’s there, can feel the heat radiating off of him and she looks down to find that her hands are trembling.

“I’m sorry.” The way he says the words, completely sincere but without a hint of pity, is almost her undoing. “I know what it’s like when things don’t seem to make any sense, when your life gets turned upside down and everything you thought you wanted just seems so…unimportant.”

The sadness in his voice makes her heart ache for him. Perhaps that’s what the connection is between them, that they have both lost their way. Any other day, with any other person, she might have asked what happened, what had turned his world topsy-turvy, but instinctively she knows now is not the time for him to confide that particular story in her. She can’t help but hope, though,\ that one day he’ll be ready to tell her the whole thing.

They stand in silence, only inches away from each other, but neither touching the other. The room seems to fill with an unbearable weight of tension.

“You haven’t pushed me about how it happened.” He gestures to his battered face, his voice holding a mixture of confusion and admiration.

Isabel sighs, turning around to look at him, finally meeting his eyes and feeling like she may be carried away on them. “That’s because, truthfully, Wes, I’m smart enough to know I probably don’t want to know.” She looks at the expression on his face. “That surprises you.”

He nods slowly, almost begrudgingly. “You seem to do that a lot, Isabel Bishop.”

“What?” She tilts her head, weighing him up.

“Surprise me.” His voice is husky and he looks at her the same way he had in his bedroom moments before they had kissed.

“And is that a good or a bad thing?” She licks her lips, watching as his eyes flare at the action and feeling an answering flame in her belly. Without giving herself time to change her mind, she takes a step towards him, closing the short distance between them.

Wesley doesn’t move. Instead he balls his hands into fists, standing straight-backed and rigid as if he doesn’t trust himself not to reach out and touch her. “I’m not sure yet.”

Isabel smiles at him and reaches out to lay her palm flat against his hard chest. “That sounds familiar.”

“Isabel.” His voice comes out through gritted teeth, his knuckles turning white as he bunches them even harder. “If we start this, I don’t think I’ll be able to stop.”

The feeling between her thighs becomes an inescapable ache. “If we start this, I won’t want you to.” She leans into him, watching as his pupils dilate.

“Bel, tell me you want this.” His voice comes out strangled and Isabel gives herself a little high five over the fact that she’s managed to wrap this gorgeous man up in need.

She doesn’t even have to think twice about it; her body has taken over from her brain. There would be time afterwards for her to regret her decision, but, for now, there is nothing more important. It isn’t just a desire; it’s a need. “I want this.”

The words are barely out of her mouth before Wesley has grabbed hold of her hand with a growl and is pulling her out of the kitchen and down the hallway.

“Where are we going?” She has to virtually run to keep from getting dragged along behind him into his bedroom.

“Like I said, when I start this I won’t be able to stop and I don’t want an audience.” He closes the door behind them and pulls her closer to him, running his hands through her hair and looking at her as if it’s the first time he’s really seeing her. “Jesus, Isabel, you’re beautiful.”

She feels herself blush. She’s not used to being looked like he looks at her. She’s had n-strings-attached sex, but the way he makes her feel makes her know this is different. So she takes the lead, kissing him hungrily, like she can’t get enough of him. He responds in kind, his tongue slipping between the seam of her lips and tangling with hers, tasting her. It’s more than just a kiss; it’s an answer to a question she hadn’t even known she had asked. She needs to be closer to him. Frustrated, she scrambles to pull off her college sweatshirt, dumping it unceremoniously on the ground before diving in to his kiss again.

Her nipples harden against the silky material of her nightdress and there’s a rush of wetness between her thighs. Her need for him intensifies as he deepens the kiss. When they come up for air, panting, a wild look in their eyes, she traces her finger along his jawline, brushing her fingertips over the dark stubble along his cheeks.

“I’ve been wanting to do that since I first saw you.” Isabel’s voice is barely a whisper when it makes it past her lips.

The heat in his dark eyes makes her feel like she’s about to burn up from the inside out. “There’s a lot that I’ve been wanting to do since I first saw you kicking the crap out of that water heater.”

She laughs softly and gives him a gentle nudge. “Wow, such a romantic.”

Amusement dances in his eyes and, for a few seconds, he looks lighter, like he’s not carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. “Romance, huh? I can do romance.” He schools his face into a more serious expression. “How about this? I’ve been dreaming about this, this moment, having you in my bedroom, looking at me like you’re looking at me right now.”

Isabel locks eyes with him, feeling the gravitational pull that he seems to exert on her without even trying. “Pretty good.” Her voice cracks. “So what happens in the dream?” She looks up at him, her green eyes dark with lust.

“I thought you’d never ask.” His mouth covers hers again and she lets out a low moan as his hands cup her breasts through the soft silk of her nightdress.

Her nipples stand to attention and she feels a rush of heat to her lower lips. He guides her backwards until she feels the bump of the bed on the back of her thighs. In one, smooth motion, he has pulled off her nightgown and laid her down on the bed, spread out before him. He looks at her as if she is a present he can’t wait to unwrap, but she still shifts uncomfortably under his gaze. It’s partly to do with the fact that she’s naked as the day is long, completely exposed and partly to do with the unrelenting throbbing between her thighs that makes it hard for her to remain still.

She reaches out to him, but he shakes his head, looking at her wolfishly. “You’re so beautiful, Bel.” His eyes roam over her olive-skinned body, taking in every part of her.

“Wes, please.” She wriggles impatiently, needing something to curb the desire flushing through her body.

He doesn’t need for her to ask him again. He settles himself on top of her, opening her thighs with his knee and kisses her fully, deeply. His hand traces a line from the hollow of her neck, over the mounds of her full breasts and flat belly until it reaches the mound of tightly wound dark curls between her thighs. She lifts her hips, urging him on, needing him there more than she’s needed anything before. His fingers open her slick folds and Isabel almost comes at that, the lightest of touches.

“Oh, baby, you’re so wet.” His words come out strangled, like touching her is testing his level of control.

She feels a little surge of triumph that she’s not the only one to feel carried away by lust. She raises her hips, wanting him deeper, needing him to touch her before the ache becomes unbearable. Reading her mind, he slips a finger inside of her, making her gasp, while he gently thumbs her clit, expertly building up the pressure until she can’t stand it any more. He looks down at her, an expression of awe on his face as he watches her come hard against his hand, exploding around him.

She’s still breathing heavily, her muscles feeling heavy, but she needs more. She pushes his t-shirt up needing to feel his skin against hers. His chest is all hard muscle and written across it in black cursive script are the words ‘Semper Fidelis USMC’.
Always Faithful US Marine Corps
. Her fingers trace the tattoo, marveling at how beautiful it is, not just aesthetically, but the meaning behind it. She looks up into his eyes and knows now isn’t the time to talk about it; there would be time enough later.

His mouth on her nipple pushes all rational thought away. He suckles at one and then the other while his clever fingers stroke the soft folds between her thighs. She needs more. Her fingers tear at his pants, pushing them down and reaching inside his shorts to free the hard length she finds there. Her hand wraps around him, running her thumb over the soft tip and she watches as his eyes darken with lust and he grits his teeth for control.

“I need you inside of me.” Her voice is barely above a whisper, full of need. She guides his swollen tip to her wetness and rubs it over her clit, making them both moan with pent-up desire.

As if he can’t stand it anymore, Wes grabs hold of her hips and plunges into her, burying his length inside of her. His mouth covers her cry of pleasure and he starts to move inside of her, setting a rhythm with his hips. Isabel wraps her legs around him, pulling him even deeper inside of her, and following him thrust for thrust.

“Wes, I’m close.” She barely recognizes her own voice; it’s so wound up in lust. “Come with me.”

He shakes his head, thrusting into her, harder this time, making her cry out and arch her back. “Not yet. I want to see you come again for me.” He watches her as he reaches between them, thumbing her clit as he plunges into her and Isabel can do nothing but oblige, coming hard and loudly, his name on her lips as she does.