Page 25 of Filthy Savage
Axe
“Really?Here? No way. I bet those rooms have bedbugs.”
Angel’s sweet, sultry voice gets my attention, even if she’s complaining. I caved earlier, not wanting to leave her dogs stranded without some mind of pet care arrangements. Angel worked it out with her neighbor, and grabbed a few clothes—more than what she needed, anyway. But I still had to drag her out of her house kicking and screaming because she didn’t want to leave her dogs behind. While we were there, she scrutinized every outfit she owned before I suggested jeans, t-shirts, a couple of sweat suits, and a pair of loafers would be more ideal than leather, lace and stilettos. We went back and forth until I ended up grabbing a backpack and shoving stuff from her chest of drawers to get us on our way.
Angel pouted for a while during our thirty-minute drive on the I-15 south, but calmed down before we made it to Glendale, Nevada. But now, she takes one look at the seedy motel and mutters her vehement disagreement to spending a single night there.
“You can always walk back home and take your chances with the men who are after you,” I tell her, cutting off the engine. “We’re staying here,” I reiterate firmly, only slightly annoyed. For the most part, I’m horny as hell after all this time with the gorgeous, feisty woman who’s been pressed up tight to me like a second skin for the entire ride.
“Christ.” She climbs off in a huff.
“I’ll get us the room,” I tell her, pushing down the kickstand before getting off. “You watch the bike.”
I’m at the motel office and back with the key in a few minutes, but Angel is still pissed. Her arms are crossed over her breasts, her nostrils flare, and her eyes narrow as she glares at me. “I guess I parked in a good spot,” I tell her, ignoring the tantrum in waiting. “Follow me.”
We step up on the pavement and only have to walk a few feet to get to our room. Angel pushes past me when I unlock the door. “Just as I thought. I imagine I’ll need a shower before and after sleeping in that bed,” she says, dumping her backpack on the sofa and heading to the bathroom at the back.
“By the way,” I say from my spot at the threshold. “Only rooms with queen beds were available, so I’ll let you sleep in here. I’ll be outside.”
“Outside?” she calls out from the open bathroom door. “Isn’t that stretching out the good guy thing a little far? You can take the couch. I won’t freak out.”
My jaw hardens I’m not ready for an overnighter with anyone. Not now while my dreams are riddled with terror-filled nightmares. I struggle to come up with something to get myself out of this. Angel doesn’t need to know.
“I’m fine with staying out there. Seriously. I need to keep watch.”
“Okay, sure,” she says reluctantly. “Are you going to go mark your territory or something? I hear you MC guys like pissing in the wind for kicks.”
I flash her a sideways glance. “Yeah. That.”
“Well just know that the way it looks out there, you might end up marking your territory on the local pimps and crack whores.”
I have to smile. Around this stretch of road, she’s not far off the mark. We’re hardly in the best part of town, but the Los Diablos aren’t likely to look for either of us here.
“I’ll manage. Are you hungry? I can get us some food from that little diner we passed about a mile up the road.”
“Can I come with? After I shower.”
I take a seat on the sofa and check the time on my phone. “Sure, you can come along, but we need to go now. We can’t risk having them catch sight of the bike.”
“Okay, but at least let me change,” she says, returning to the couch for her bag. Angel stares down at me for a moment. “You look beat. Maybe you should go get us takeout.”
I get to my feet, dwarfing her as she stays in the same spot with one hand on the strap of the backpack. That vulnerable look in her eyes has me so tight in the chest, I have to get out of here. “I’ll be back in fifteen minutes. Don’t open the door for anyone.”
* * *
“Hey,tomorrow morning, we’ll have to hit the road early to keep ahead of whatever’s in the rearview. Cool?” I point out after we’ve had dinner.
“Fine with me,” Angel answers. “All right. Time for that shower. I’ll be back.”
“What were you doing while I picked up dinner?”
She gets to her feet. “Waiting for you to get back. Haven’t you heard the saying never step inside a shower when you’re alone in a seedy motel that looks like a chainsaw murderer was the last guy to rent the place?”
“Nope. Never heard that saying.”
She hums all the way to the bathroom. Angel is not shy. She leaves the door half open, turns on the shower, and strips out of all her clothes, giving me a show, as if daring me to go in there.
If that’s what she wants—wild, raw sex in the shower—that’s exactly what I’ll give her. At the moment, need and desire overtakes my exhaustion, and all I want to do is hear my name echo around that tiny shower stall while I take her hard. So when she wiggles out of her boy cut panties, I push off the sofa, remove every shred of clothes and stalk into the bathroom.
