Page 65 of Savage Lust

“You can hang out here until I get back or walk downstairs and make yourself a drink. If anyone is still here, it’ll be Dylan.”

I moved on the bed and struggled a bit to pull my panties and shorts back over the boots. “I can walk down with you.” The idea of staying up there alone made me uneasy. I didn’t want to be far from Cam, not here.

He waited at the door and lit a cigarette, shoving his lighter in his pocket before taking my hand in his free one and walking down the stairs with me. Krystal and the other groupies were long gone. A small handful of bikers were rolling in, somber. Every so often, one would break off from a group and head to the hallway with those two heavy oak doors.

Merc waited at the base of the stairs, lounging against the rail, unbothered and disinterested, like nothing important had just happened. He nodded once to me. “Dylan’s in the kitchen, getting food together.”

What he wasn’t saying wasif you don’t want to stay out here with all of them. Men in leather vests lingered in the main room, one behind the bar passing out beers. They all watched me until Cam gave a hard glare.

He kissed the top of my head and used his hand on the back of my neck to steer me in that direction. “Get something to eat. This won’t take long.”

Walking away wasn’t easy, but like Dylan had said, there were things we weren’t meant to know. And while I didn’t like it, I was starting to understand. Today had been eye opening in many ways.

I ignored the leering stares and pushed through the steel industrial style door and into the commercial sized kitchen. It smelled of some sort of roast and vegetables, savory, and onions. Dylan was leaned over a large pan, pulling the aluminum foil back and poking inside with a large fork.

She looked so calm and at ease, so normal that I felt bad about our argument. “Hey.”

She glanced up and hesitated before responding with a cautious, “You okay?”

“Yeah.” It wasn’t a lie. “I feel like I should be more traumatized, but I’m not.”

“Cam’s not going to let anything happen to you.” She hefted out another pan and then pulled down two plates. Her blind trust in him gave me the warm fuzzies.

“I’m sorry, Dylan. About last night and everything.”

She waved it off. “Don’t be. Seriously. I think we understand each other.” She caught my gaze and held it in such a way I knew she meant what she said.

“Yeah, we do.” I waited a minute, peaked under the tinfoil at the meat settled in thick gravy. “But you were right, you are a bitch.”

Dylan’s laugh was as rich as the gravy.

And this is what it felt like to make my first true friend. Someone other than Cam, who understood me.

twenty-six

Cam

Leaving Riley got harder and harder each time I did it. I could kid myself that I watched her walk away to make sure she was safe, not the overwhelming urge to look at her. The way the boots accentuated her long legs all the way to that tight ass drove me out of my mind. I’d just had her, and somehow my cock twitched to life again.

I took a deep breath and forced those thoughts away. She glanced over her shoulder at me, caught my gaze, and flashed me a shy, knowing smile.

Mine.

And she was the sexiest goddamned thing I’d ever seen. Two parts of me warred against each other. One wanting her gone, knowing she’d be trouble for us both if she stayed and the other that would do anything to keep her.

Preacher, the Club, losing Archer…none of it mattered when I was with her, when I was lost inside her. I’d never imagined it possible for me to be so consumed.

I’d seen guys be so twisted from drugs or alcohol that they couldn’t focus, lost control of their lives, and ended up in jail or worse—losing their patches. But none of that had ever been a problem for me. Hell, the only thing in life I could get addicted to was Riley Bowman.

A hand smacked me on the shoulder with the familiar thump of a long-standing friendship. Puck had patched in a few years after Merc and I, but had always hung around the two of us. To the point Archer had affectionately called us knuckleheads. I rubbed the patch opposite my VP patch, the one that Archer had made for the three of us.

Felt like someone was punching me there. I reached into my pocket and twisted the old man’s bike key around. Keeping him close.

“You good, brother?” Puck’s eyes creased around the corners as he studied me.

“Yeah.” I was whole, so was Riley. And now that the adrenaline had faded and I could assess myself, I was pissed. “Still want to hit something.” Or someone.

“Maybe you’ll get a chance.” He sneered with a short laugh and tied his hair back.

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