Sinful (Diamondback MC 6)

“Sounds good,” I tell her, then were taking off, one of her arms wrapped around my waist, her other still on my arm, and for the first time in for-fuckin’-ever, peace surrounds me.

Six

Jolie

“You were right, you know?” I tell Decker once we were sitting at the bar, classic rock pounding in the speakers. We rode clear to another town, and if it weren’t for my father and his need to console himself with the bottle, I probably would have a drink with Decker.

“What’s that, sweetness?” He’s sitting on a barstool, and I’m standing between his legs, one of my hands wrapped in his.

“There’s nothing better than being on a bike. That was probably the most freeing feeling I’ve experienced since I was seventeen.” He squeezes my hand, takes a sip of his beer.

“Yeah. That got somethin’ to do with why you don’t drink, or are you too young to drink legally?” His upper lip tugs up. He lost his toothpick when he ordered a drink.

“That’s flattering you think I’m younger than twenty-one. My gene pool is definitely a credit to my mother, not to Aunt Gaston,” I joke. He gives me a weird look. “He’s from Beauty and The Beast. She’s my mom’s sister. I’m twenty-one, by the way. If it weren’t for an alcoholic father, I’d probably be more receptive to drinking.” I shrug my shoulders, leaving it at that.

“You might be twenty-one, sweetness, but you sure carry the responsibilities of a forty-year-old.” Decker places his hand on my hip, moving the fabric of my shirt out of his way so his thumb can glide over my bare skin, taking my breath away while he does it.

“You’re probably right, but that Inn was my mother’s. I refuse to let it fall by the wayside and let it crumble to its death.” The Breezeway runs a good profit, even with Aunt Jafar doing nothing but sitting on her ass while I work, expecting to be waited on hand and foot. That wasn’t the case when I graduated high school. It took her a year to dwindle our savings and put us in the red. It’s partly why I only take a small paycheck. It’s taken years to get us back into the black, just the way it was before my mom died.

“No probably about it, sweetness. It won’t crumble. You might if you don’t start takin’ more of a break. Not my business to tell you how to run it. Know enough that you’re a strong and independent woman. You keep goin’ like you are, you’ll end up in the hospital. Might wanna think about adding someone to the mix to help you out.” I look into his crystal-blue eyes, take in his eyelashes the color of his dirty blond hair, his high cheekbones, a smooth jawline that looks like he shaved it before we headed out, and I know Decker’s not wrong.

“You’re right, but enough about me. I feel like I’ve monopolized the conversation all night. Tell me about yourself.” Decker does something I wasn’t prepared for. It almost startles me. Almost. He wraps his arm around my middle, settling me on to his thigh. It sucks to be on his lap because I’ve lost sight of his eyes, but the feeling of his body surrounding mine makes up for it.

“Not much to tell. Raised by my mom until she took her last breath at the age of thirty-five. It sucked. Sucked more that she put herself in that place and there was no amount of talking, coaxing, or fighting to get her away from the abusive son of a bitch who was called my father. Got lucky when the cops found him dead, me with a gun in my hand, and my mom holdin’ herself in the corner, barely alive. Got off with self-defense. Lost both parents that day. I found Diamondback shortly after that day, became a Prospect for a few years until I hit twenty-three, been Road Captain for twelve years. Recently needed the feel of the open air and pavement under me, so I’m what they consider a Nomad, even if my Prez doesn’t agree with it. Now I’m here with you.” Decker tells me all of this while my head is turned to the side, my heart in my throat for what he went through, and not having his mom either.

“Wow, I, um... shit, I’m botching this all up. I know there’s nothing I could say that would help that all-consuming feeling of losing your mom. I’m sorry, Decker,” I breathe out. My forehead drops to his, the scent of his leather, spice, and the undertones of his beer surrounding us.

“It’s all good, sweetness. A lifetime ago, found a different type of family. Gonna kiss you now.” God, is it horrible to say that I’ve been dreaming of Decker’s lips? The fullness of them pressed against mine is unlike anything I could ever imagine, the way he sucks my lower lip into his mouth, my gasp leaving me, and how he has no problem finding entrance with his tongue. My body goes into overdrive, wanting this to lead to so much more when he pulls away.