Sinful Page 3

  The cool night air clamed some of her lust and Grace looked around. More people filled the large yard. A huge barbecue sizzled, and her stomach growled as she scented various meats and vegetables.

  One thing was glaringly obvious, she stuck out like a sore thumb in her conservative clothing. The other women wore leather or denim, and their dress length was no longer than ass skimming.

  She continued her perusal until her gaze finally landed on him.

  Zeke lazed in a yard chair at the end of the lawn. He looked like a king holding court with one woman sat at his feet, another on his lap and one standing behind him, her arms around his neck. Blonde, brunette and redhead. He’d gone for all three.

  He held a glass of liquor and a cigarette danged from his perfect lips. Despite his loose- limbed casual pose, his gaze burned hot and bright as it locked with hers. Lust slammed into her. She hated herself for wanting the arrogant bastard. He’d made it perfectly clear how he felt about her and still she wanted to crawl into his lap, grinding herself on his cock.

  There was definitely something wrong with her.

  When he smiled and tipped his glass in her direction, she fought the childish urge to stick out her tongue. Instead, she turned her back on him and leaned against the railing, ignoring Zeke’s smug smirk. “So Jay, tell me about you.”

  “Well, I’ve got a few stories I think you’ll enjoy...”

  She listened as Jay told her about getting involved with the Knights of Hell, laughed heartily at some of his funnier stories, and tried to ignore the tingling awareness of Zeke’s gaze burning a hole in her back.

  Zeke took a drag on his cigarette and smiled as Grace gave him the cold shoulder. He admired her balls. Not many people had the guts to flip him off, but she was different in so many ways. She made him want things he couldn’t have. Not yet anyway.

  The older he got, the more he craved a simple life without someone trying to stab or shoot him. Same went for the rest of the Knights. He’d had some bad seeds disagree when he’d taken the gavel. They tried to take the leadership, and the club, back down to hell, but he’d dealt with every threat. He didn’t enjoy violence against his brothers, but he could be ruthless when needed.

  It had taken six long, hard years but he was almost there.

  Almost.

  For now, it was one delicate step at a time towards freedom.

  Grace’s rich laughter pulled him from business thoughts. She laughed with unguarded abandon. He’d bet his left nut her eyes sparkled.

  Jealousy barreled through him like a freight train.

  He wanted to be the one making her laugh. He couldn’t get her out of his fucking head. She wasn’t anything like the women who clung to the MC like leeches. Grace was pretty in a cute way, with a heart shaped face and short, choppy dark hair. She wore prissy clothes that did little to hide her generous tits and ass.

  He shifted in his seat as his cock twitched.

  It wasn’t just her body that made his dick hard. Beneath the innocent exterior, lay pure steel. Sammy had run a thorough background check on her. It definitely paid to have a hacker in the club. He now knew why she’d left her job in the city. Access to her medical records revealed exhaustion due severe trauma. There’d been an incident with a patient and Grace hadn’t come away unscathed. The trauma she’d gone through only made him respect her more.

  He knew she was opening a book store in town. He also knew about the membership to a prominent BDSM club, used just once along with an online account at a BDSM dating site.

  Maybe Grace was right, maybe she wasn’t a good girl after all. However, all indications showed although she was interested in BDSM, she didn’t have any real life experience or the inclination to pursue it further.

  The woman was a mass of contradictions.

  A challenge.

  And didn’t that just make him rock fucking hard.

  Although he enjoyed women, he eventually wanted to settle down, maybe have a family. Make a connection for more than a few nights or weeks. He wanted a partner, not just a fuck buddy. He’d screwed around enough over the years, banged his fair share of women. At thirty-six, he was getting too fucking old, and too fucking tired, to give the “it’s-been-fun-I’ll-call-you” speech.

  He knew Grace was attracted to him. It was obvious from the way her nipples hardened every time he went near her.

  She was a distraction he couldn’t have. Not now. He was so close to his goal of digging the MC out of the shit they’d been in for years.

  If he got in her pants maybe it would stop the hunger for her. For something different.

  Hopefully one night would be enough for both of them, because he didn’t have the will power to ignore the hunger gnawing in his gut much longer.

  Grace couldn’t believe it. “So you were butt naked, sliding down a drain pipe with your dick scrapping against a wall, while people were shooting at you?” She swirled the amber liquid around her glass. “Seriously?”

  “Hell yeah. Let me tell ya, not a good day. My dick was sore for a week.”

  Jay’s tales of life in the MC were keeping her entertained. He was a funny guy. He’d been in the club since the age of sixteen and she admired his commitment. Although he spoke of their businesses now, he skirted questions about the early days and she didn’t push. It wasn’t anything to do with her.

  She patted his arm, sympathizing with an abrasion on such delicate flesh. “Yeah, I bet it was. Not sure how you’d explain that one to a doctor.”

  The air behind her changed. Heated. Charged with lust and electricity that rose goosebumps on her arms, and she knew he stood behind her.

  “This looks cozy. You two having fun?”

  Her nipples peaked and her panties grew damp in response to his gravelly voice. Butterflies danced in her stomach, her pulse quickening.

  Damn her traitorous body.

  She’d never reacted to someone so instinctively before. In the back of her mind she knew it was chemical. Primal. Something in her genetic make-up responding to the pheromones he threw off.

  It still annoyed her.

  Jay shrugged at Zeke’s question. “Just telling Grace here about some of my finer moments.”

  Uncomfortable with being unable to see him, she shifted her stance so each man stood on either side of her. As soon as she’d done it, she realized her mistake. Now she could see him out the corner of her eye. His cut strained against his broad shoulders. A thin patch of fabric read ‘President’. Something she hadn’t noticed that first night, but learned from town gossips. It made sense. The title suited him. He oozed authority.

  Underneath his cut he wore a short sleeved t-shirt, and she noted the colorful ink on his forearms.

  A silent conversation passed between him and Jay.

  Jay coughed. “I need to go speak to Tiny about something.” When she frowned at Jay, he flashed her a weak smile. “Club business.” Then he left her alone with Zeke.

  Her lungs burned as though air had been sucked from them. Not wanting to show weakness, she looked at him, meeting his gaze. When he stared back through hooded lids framed with golden lashes she wanted to drop to her knees, unbuckle his jeans and suck him.

  Her salvia glands kicked into action and she swallowed. She toyed around with the idea of BDSM. Her problem was she’d never been around a man who invoked a submissive response.

  Zeke was different. He threw off dominant vibes in waves. Although her mind rebelled, her body reacted to it in spades.

  He pointed at her shirt. “You’re overdressed.”

  “I gathered,” she sighed. Why did he always have to be such an asshole?

  He took her glass and sipped. She watched with fascination as his sensual lips pursed around the rim, as the corded muscles in his neck worked when he swallowed. She found herself wanting to run her tongue along his neck in the opposite direction.

  Dear lord, she was drowning in down and dirty lust for a man who didn’t even like her.

  When he finished,
he handed back the glass. “What kind of good girl likes hard liquor?”

  She rolled her eyes. He pushed all her buttons, turning her on and infuriating her in equal measure. She didn’t have the energy to spar with him tonight. “I didn’t come here to be insulted. Don’t worry, I’m leaving.” For good measure she added, “Fuck you, Zeke.”

  He smirked. “Tut-tut. We already had that conversation.”

  Her temper flared. “That’s right, you don’t fuck ‘good girls’. I’m going home. See you around.” She slammed down her glass and stormed through the house, ignoring calls from Jay. She was done with the Knights of Hell and their chauvinistic president. From now on, she’d stay far away from the testosterone fueled boys club.

  She bounded down the front path, the muscles in her shoulders so tense she clenched her fists at her sides to ease some of the pressure. How dare he treat her like that?

  A strong hand wrapped around her upper arm and whirled her around. Zeke’s pissed off face loomed over her.

  “What is it about you? You get under my skin. You’re definitely not my usual type. Too prissy.” He tugged at the lapel of her shirt. “Too uptight. But I still want to fuck you.”

  Although he held her tight, his touch was surprisingly gentle. She yanked her arm away anyway. Temper heated her blood to boiling point. “In your dreams, Zeke.”

  A lazy, laconic grin spread across his face. “Sweetheart, you couldn’t handle my dreams.”

  If she didn’t get away from him soon, she’d combust from repressed sexual tension. It sizzled between them. She didn’t know whether to slap him or kiss him.

  Finally making a decision, she walked away, taking deep breaths to calm her raging emotions. “Leave me alone, Zeke. Just leave me the hell alone.”

  She was done with Zeke Knight and his MC.

  Chapter Three

  Zeke lit a cigarette, letting the nicotine calm his nerves as he leaned back against his bike and took in the view. The sun rose over the desert, bathing the cliffs in a beautiful glow that soothed his soul.

  Not that he was getting all poetical and shit, but sometimes a man needed solace.

  He exhaled before taking another drag. He knew he should quit. One day. When the Chinese weren’t crawling so far up his ass he could feel Chang’s head in his throat.

  Why was is so fucking difficult to go legit? To get out of the god damn shit storm his father left him in?

  With Jay getting shot and another charter over the state line getting hit on their run, he knew he was going to have to retaliate soon. The sit downs clearly weren’t working. Zeke refused to give into Chang’s demands.

  Five million dollars cash, plus a new crew to run the guns was downright fucking unbelievable. The club didn’t have anywhere near that amount of money. Finding another crew wasn’t a problem, but Zeke understood Chang’s main motive was fucking him over.

  They’d never liked each other from the beginning and now this shit was bleeding over everything. Including his personal life. An image of Grace laughing with Jay, her eyes dancing, flashed into his head.

  He frowned. Fuck it. He’d vowed to apologize to her and all he’d done was antagonize her. He shifted, his dick hardened as he recalled the heavy lust filled look she gave him every time he got close. Every time he pissed her off.

  He could smell her arousal. Taste it on his tongue.

  He wanted her more than he’d wanted anything in a long time. No point denying it to himself. He’d been dreaming about her. Hot, heavy dreams where he woke up hard and aching for her. Yet he’d been a complete fucking douche. He’d been an asshole to her the other night in an attempt to push her away. She didn’t deserve that. Not after she’d stuck her neck out and patched up Jay. She deserved some respect. And an apology.

  He never treated women that way—ever. His Momma raised him better.

  Fuckkkkkkk.

  Zeke tossed his cigarette and sat on his bike. The feel of mental underneath him steadied some of the storm inside. He’d always loved riding. It gave him a sense of peace. Of freedom.

  He turned over the engine and kicked the stand up.

  Chang could wait. First he had to go see a pretty brunette who appeared in every one of his recent fantasies.

  * * * * *

  The thunderous roar of a Harley engine broke Grace’s concentration. She put down the paintbrush she’d been wielding on the back wall of her store. She was used to the distant purr of motorcycles as the Knights owned a tattoo store at the other end of Main Street. This one was much closer though.

  She peeked behind the make shift sheets covering her windows just in time to see Zeke Knight take off his helmet and throw one long leg over his bike.

  What the fuck was he doing parked outside her store? Despite the curl of anger, her body heated. He really was a fine male specimen. He called to her on a base level. A level she tried to ignore for her own sanity.

  She prayed he walked right by.

  As he strode towards her door, she stiffened. She really didn’t have the energy to go another round with the asshat biker. With the store opening in less than four weeks, she had a shit load to do. Getting into another argument with Zeke wasn’t one of them.

  She flipped the lock, yanked open the door and said, “Look, Zeke. Whatever you’ve come to say, save it. I’m too busy to play.” There, that told him.

  “Morning to you too, Doc.” He took out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter before shaking a stick loose and lighting it.

  His lips pursed as he took a drag. When he exhaled, things low in her belly tightened. Who got turned on by watching someone smoke? She was definitely deluded. “See you around, Zeke.” She tried to close the door.

  He jammed a boot in the entry. “I didn’t come here to fight. I came to apologize.”

  This grabbed her attention. Zeke wasn’t the type of man who apologized. She knew guys like him—his way or the fucking highway. They were never wrong. It was always someone else’s fault.

  She crossed her arms over her chest and ignored the ache in her pebbled nipples. “So apologize.”

  “Can I come in or do you want me to grovel out here?”

  She sighed and opened the door just wide enough for him to step inside.

  As she closed it, he swept a cursory glance around and nodded. “Nice place.”

  “Thanks.”

  A burst of pride shot through her. It felt good to be praised for her efforts even if it was from him. She’d worked hard to get the book store. Years of toil as an ER nurse had taken its toll. Although she got fulfillment helping others, it burnt her out emotionally and physically. Her family thought her crazy as hell opening a book store when so many were going out of business, but she wanted it. It was her dream.

  She’d painted the walls a pale yellow. Some of the free standing shelving had been assembled and the carpenters had installed her custom-made walnut counter. It was beginning to look exactly as she’d imagined.

  Zeke took a few more hits on his cigarette. He hadn’t asked her permission to smoke inside and that irked. When he rolled the white stick between his thumb and forefinger her libido went into overdrive. Her nipples tightened as she imagined him rolling them. He wouldn’t be gentle. Fantasizing about the edge of pain made her panties damp.

  Zeke screamed danger and destruction, and she wasn’t looking for either.

  “Look, Grace,” he said as he leaned against the counter. “I’ve been an asshole. The way I spoke to you...” He shook his head. “What can I say, sometimes I’m a bastard.”

  She believed him. The deep furrow on his brow made him look contrite, but it was more than that. He sounded genuine. She learned to detect bullshit over the years. The amount of people who lied about taking illicit substances when they got wheeled into the ER was phenomenally high.

  She flashed him a wry smile, some of the ice melting from her veins. “Only sometimes?”

  He laughed. “Most days. Comes with the territory. But you did us a solid when you patc
hed up Jay and I didn’t show you respect. So I’m here, ass in hand, apologizing.”

  Grace took a deep breath and shrugged. “Apology accepted.” She hadn’t come here to hold grudges. He’d apologized and now they could get on with their lives. Separately.

  “Good. I got a couple of hours free. As penance for my sins, you need a hand painting?”

  No. She absolutely didn’t need Zeke Knight to be in her space any longer than necessary. “Yes, that would helpful.” Obviously her brain had other ideas.

  Stupid, stupid, stupid. She mentally slapped herself on the forehead.

  Zeke snuffed out the cigarette between his fingers before flicking it into a metal trash can. “Let’s get started.”

  He stripped off the devil on his back and Grace almost whimpered as she got a good look at how broad his shoulders really were in a tight, faded black t-shirt.

  The next few hours were going to be delicious torture.

  “Have you ever been anything else but club president?” Grace asked Zeke as she finished off the last patch of wall.

  In two hours they’d almost completed the first coat. Zeke worked fast and his strong arms managed to wield the long roller better than hers. She had to admit watching him paint wasn’t a hardship. The way his t-shirt pulled tight across his shoulders would keep her in fantasy fodder for months. Not to mention the teasing flashes of dusky skin whenever it rode up.

  “Nah. Last six years as Prez. Before that I was in the Marines. Five years’ service. When I got out, I went to college, did some business stuff after I graduated. Came back here, patched in after my Dad died. My family were part of the original charter, I grew up around the club, so it seemed like the logical choice.”

  Her heart clenched at the sadness and anger that filled his tone when he spoke about his father’s death. “I’m sorry. It’s hard to lose a parent at any age.”

  He shrugged it off. “It’s okay.”

  “So what kind of business do you do now?” She tried to steer the conversation away from death.