Page 13 of Riot

So that’s his real name. It suits him.

He opens his mouth to yell something at her, but swiftly drops it as she skips off through the clubhouse. His eyes slide back to me.

“Myles?” I pop a brow.

“I’ll thank my loving sister later. How you doin’?”

I smile. “Good. Happy Birthday.” I know I’ve already said it, but I can’t think of anything else to say. I make the first move for a hug and he opens his arms.

As we embrace, he’s warm. And he smells even better up close; that warm fuzzy feeling spreads through me and I can feel heat rising from my neck. He smells so good.

Why have I been keeping this man at arm’s length?

If I’m being honest with myself, I have made excuses, and it isn’t because I don’t want to see him. I do. But there’s a danger with a man like Riot. I’ve seen how my best friend fell hard, and that’s not a bad thing, but love can destroy you. I’ve been there. All the boyfriends I’ve had, not that there’s been that many, have never treated me well. I stayed for way too long in one relationship thinking that I could change him. Never having the confidence to leave, even when things got bad. The guys, aside from one, never hurt me physically, but mentally they did a lot of damage.

I was never good enough in their eyes.Lose weight. Blonde hair doesn’t suit you. You look fat in that. Who do you think you are? Nobody could love you…

Words are what hurt the most, and it’s taken most of my adult life to overcome some of the jibes and hurtful things that resurface whenever I question myself. I’ve done a lot of work to get where I am, and nobody is ever going to derail me. I have moments of doubt, and I try to hide my awkwardness with chatter and being friendly, but deep down I’m always just trying to ‘fit in’. I don’t know if I fit with Riot, and if he has the ability to make me fall in love with him, then this could be really bad for me.

When he looks at me with those beautiful blue eyes, I feel like I’m going to melt into a puddle and make an even bigger fool of myself. Still, I hold my head high.

“You smell good.” His voice is hoarse and rumbly. I swallow hard, trying to not let him see how much he affects me.

“It’s just soap… and, uh, this spray I got in…uh, like, Floraland I think, but they don’t make it anymore.” Why I feel the need to say that, I don’t know. I tend to babble when I’m nervous. The fact he likes my perfume, even though it’s discontinued, is now permeating my thoughts on how I try and track down another bottle. This is how my mind works.

His eyes graze my cleavage for just a second. “That’s a shame. It suits you.”

“I tend to lean more toward subtle fragrances, rather than top notes that blow your head off.”

His lips twitch. Oh, God. I forgot how bad I was at this. I don’t have the confidence that Star does, or even Hope walking in here like she owns the joint.

You have just as much right to be here, Halo McBride. Remember that.

He rips the paper off his present and stares down at the little flashlight.

“It’s tactical,” I tell him. “And a good brand. I know you sometimes work security, and I asked Nevada and he said you didn’t have anything like this.”

I don’t know why he has a smirk on his face, like some inside ‘flashlight’ joke, but I roll with it.

“It’sperfect.” He’s beaming, that’s a good sign. He tosses it into his other hand, then switches it on and off, examining it. I know he was in the military for a short stint, and I figured it had something to do with rifles since he was part of the reason the trafficking ring was shut down in Mississippi. I’m not one for gun violence, but I know he’s a good shot.

I haven’t asked him anything about what he used to do before joining the MC, maybe it’s because I wouldn’t like the answer.

“It’s also waterproof,” I feel the need to add.

“It’s very thoughtful of you. I love it.” He pinches my chin with his finger and thumb, and I bite my bottom lip, wanting him to kiss me. He doesn’t. But that doesn’t stop my heart from jolting when the warmth of his hands spreads right through my body. I want him, I know that much, but I just don’t have the guts to voice it.

When he smiles down at his new toy, it’s all the thanks that I need. Good. I didn’t fuck up. I mean, flashlights are useful.

“Have a drink with me?” He looks up from under his lashes, shoving the flashlight in his back pocket. It isn’t really a question, it’s more like polite demand, but it has me feeling buzzed.

I nod. “Thought you’d never ask.”

Before I can react, he takes my hand and pulls me along with him, heading toward the bar. Heads turn our way, and I think that’s the whole point in why he did it. He’s telling them, right? Staking a claim, like Star told me all about. Or am I just imagining things? If I hadn't turned up, surely he’d have another woman on his arm.

I do get updates from Star, and she hasn’t seen him with any other women, or those dreaded sweet butt chicks that hang around looking perfect like models with their bits hanging out. I mean, I get it. But sometimes the old saying, ‘less is more,’ really doesn’t apply here. Not that the bikers would care.

A few wolf whistles ring out, which I’m sure are not directed at me, but when I feel Riot’s hand squeeze mine even harder, my nipples pebble and my pussy clench at how fricking hot that makes me feel. I know he’s all kinds of wrong. I know that. I mean, he’s not a bad person. I don’t get bad vibes from him, but there’s this subtle dark cloud that hangs over him, like he’s led a really troubled life. His protectiveness over his sister tells me that he’s a good man, and whenever I’ve been with him, I’ve felt completely safe and at ease. So why every time he touches me do I want to throw caution to the wind and get down to some nasty shit? I guess it’s the whole bad-boy-biker vibe he gives off, and clearly it’s working.

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