Page 50 of Ridin' Free
Or maybe, for the first time in decades, he was falling.
Love was not a concept that was lost on him. He’d seen it before. His parents and his sisters had found it easily enough. Some of his brothers, too. But for Twister, a good time had never turned into an insatiable need for the same woman. It was true, he had his preferences. When he found a woman he liked in bed, he usually took her there more than once. Except, he’d never met someone like Phoenix.
She was as beautiful as she was badass.
After their first night, she’d been a challenge—one he accepted for the hell of it.
Now, he was beginning to understand how precious she was.
Twister’s life was on the compound. He was a Stallion through and through. He lived by the code of the brotherhood, and he followed his own rules. He was rough and ready withno desire to clean up his act for anyone. He’d bedded enough women to know, in the end, if he kept them around, they’d wind up wanting him to be someone he wasn’t.
But with Phoenix, it was different. She was all but one of them.
Fierce. Wild. Brave.
Fuck, but Ali-Mae was brave.
It was hard to believe she’d been there all along, right underneath his nose.
She claimed he was wasting his time, but he was certain that couldn’t have been further from the truth. All his life, he trusted his gut—and he wasn’t about to stop now. He couldn’t say with any sort of clarity where it was their relationship was going, but he knew he was down for the ride.
The wild spirit which lived in him lived in her, too. That’s all he needed to know.
He entered the clubhouse and found the usual suspects. With Steel Mustang closed for the night, there were a few more brothers with their hang-arounds milling about and shooting the shit. Like always, walking into the room felt like coming home. Nevertheless, he only planned on staying for a beer.
He made his way behind the bar and searched the fridge for his beverage of choice. When he found what he was after, he uncapped it, tossed the lid, then journeyed to the other side. He didn’t bother to sit but leaned up against the counter and extracted his phone before shooting Phoenix a text.
As soon as his message was sent, he pocketed the device, took a long pull from his beer, and surveyed the room. He clocked Lyla the second she clocked him, and he watched her as she made her way toward him.
Her hair was loose and fell like silk over her bare shoulders. She had on a printed red tube top that tied like a bandana around her chest, and a denim mini skirt that barely coveredher ass. Her feet were tucked into a pair of cowgirl boots he’d seen her wear from time to time, and it was obvious she dressed herself in an effort to get attention.
As he studied her upon her approach, it almost made him laugh how much he didn’t want her. Only, she wasn’t the butt of his joke—he was. It amused him to think how he could have Lyla right then and there, in the middle of the clubhouse no less, and it wouldn’t take any convincing—but what he wanted more than her was a fucking text message from the redhead he craved.
“Hey, handsome,” greeted Lyla as she came to a stop right in front of him.
“Lyla,” he muttered before lifting his beer to his lips.
“What have you got going on tonight? Want to grab a bite?”
He swallowed and shook his head once. “Nope.”
She was not deterred.
She stepped closer, reaching to grab hold of the open flaps of his kutte as she shifted tactics. “You’re right. Let’s skip the food and get straight to the fuck.”
Twister looked down at her hands then slowly dragged his gaze back up to meet hers, quirking an eyebrow at her before brushing away her touch. “Not interested.”
He watched as bitterness crept into her features, completely transforming her face as she popped a hip and folded her arms across her chest.
“What the hell, Twister? What is going on? You haven’t had me in weeks.”
Like a flash, his mind took him back to his kitchen the moment Phoenix moaned his road name. He hadn’t liked it, and he couldn’t explain why in the heat of their passion—why he wanted to be called by his given name as he worked to own her pleasure.
But now—Lyla standing in front of him—it clicked.
What he had with Phoenix was real. Whatever the fuck it was, it was undeniably genuine and as raw as he’d ever known. In his kitchen, his dick buried inside of her—inside ofAli—he’d wanted her to have a part of him he never gave to anyone because he knew, in her surrender, she was giving him something pure.
Lyla couldn’t touch that.
