Hell on Wheels (Kings of Mayhem MC 4)

I raised an eyebrow at her. “There’s eight seasons.”

“Then we’d better start watching,” she said.

She looked up at me from the bed and damn I was in trouble. There was no way I could stay in this room with her tonight.

Hell, there was no way I could stay in this room another minute without doing something stupid like kissing her.

Which was exactly what we both didn’t need.

So while she dove into episode three of Game of Thrones, I stepped out into the hall and called my grandmother to let her know I was taking Cassidy to the cabin for a few days. Maybe a week. Maybe longer. She didn’t ask any questions because Grandma Sybil was no one’s fool; she knew she’d only get the censored version from me.

Instead, she would find things out her way.

I had no doubt.

After speaking to Sybil, I checked in with Bull and let him know things were set for the following morning.

When I walked back into my room, Cassidy was sound asleep on my bed, on her side with her arms wrapped around my pillow. Her long blonde hair fanned around her face while her legs were parted with the just white satin of her panties visible.

Lust slammed into me, and I felt my blood rush south.

Not that I would touch her.

I was the last thing this goddess needed.

She was already rattled, and I didn’t want to be another threat to her. And the plain and simple truth was I didn’t trust myself not to be; I didn’t know who I was turning into or what he was capable of. All I knew was that I didn’t like him.

But I was still a living, breathing, red-blooded male, and it was impossible not to notice the sleeping beauty in my bed and all the magical things about her. Like the angelic face. The sweet curves of her luscious body. The tiny slip of satin between her firm thighs.

She was temptation.

But I was more than fucking tempted by her.

I was fucking aching to touch her.

And I hated that I was.

I reached down and covered her with the blanket, and it took all my will power not to touch her when she stirred and a small moan slipped from her parted lips. But I was a disciplined soldier and would die fighting the urge to touch her.

Instead, I kissed my fingers and pressed them against her shoulder. “Goodnight, California.”

I slipped quietly from the room, making sure the door was locked behind me.

She would be safe here.

And safer if I wasn’t in the room with her.

CHANCE

I headed out into the clubhouse. Fight Night was in full swing, and it was a full house. Tonight, Hawke and one of our newest club members, Animal, duked it out in the ring while girls in bikinis wandered through the small crowd of bikers, cheering on the fight. Around us, Led Zeppelin’s “Trampled Under Foot” blared from the sophisticated surround sound system.

As I headed for the bar, Tiffani, one of the more popular club girls, stepped in front of me.

“Hey there, baby,” she said, giving me serious fuck-me eyes as she slid a hand up my chest. “You’ve been back for months now and haven’t bought me a drink. What does a girl have to do to get noticed around here?”

She pressed herself against me, and before I had the chance to stop her, she reached down between us and grabbed my cock. The cock that was still pissed at me for not doing anything about the half-naked goddess lying in my bed. The cock that was still hard and giving me a serious case of blue balls because just remembering that glimpse of white satin against the sleepy beauty’s pussy was making me dizzy with lust.

Feeling my size and level of extreme hardness against her palm, Tiffani’s eyes lit up with surprise. She gave the hard ridge a squeeze and whispered in my ear, “Let’s go to your room and let me take care of you.”

I untangled her from my body.

“That’s a real sweet offer, darlin’,” I said, sidestepping around her. “But it ain’t going to happen.”

Not tonight.

Not ever.

But Tiffani wasn’t known for taking a hint. Or for her subtlety.

She pouted and batted her lashes at me. “You know how to break a girl’s heart, Chance. Seems to me you could do with a little attention.” Again, she stepped toward me. “If you take care of me, I promise I’ll take care of you. I’ll take care of you real good.”

I gave her a wink. I didn’t want to be a dick, but this wasn’t going to happen. I simply walked away and went straight for the bar where I grabbed a bottle of Jack Daniel’s from our barman, Randy.

“You doin’ okay, buddy?” he asked as he slid the bottle of whiskey across the shiny bar top. Randy only had one arm but could mix a drink better than his two-armed rivals. Once a fall down drunk, he lost his arm after crashing his motorcycle into the back of a parked truck. He wasn’t a King, but he was an employee, which made him as good as family. He was a good guy. A good listener. The girls all loved him and according to the rumors, he had a magic tongue. Which kind of had me questioning what he did that the rest of us didn’t. Not that I’d ever had any complaints. But seriously. Club girls couldn’t stop giggling about his sexual prowess like he was some goddamn magician.