Luck of the Devil (Ravens Ruin MC 2)

Briar, as if realizing he’s still holding me, releases his grip on my thighs. I slide down his body, reluctant to step away even though I sway a little on my feet. The alcohol I drank earlier is choosing now to affect my ability to stand up straight and confident. As mad as he is, I don’t think my brother would hurt me. Keeping myself between the two men is my only focus.

“Taking advantage of a drunk girl really isn’t your style, Brother.” Lynch is pissed. I can tell by the calm in his voice. Yelling to get his point across has never been his style. He’s menacing enough without having to use a raised voice.

“Exactly,” Briar agrees. “That’s why you know nothing is going on.”

“Get her out of here,” Lynch spits at Zoe without even taking his eyes off Briar.

Zoe reaches for me, but before I take her hand, I step closer to my brother.

“I kissed him,” I vow. “If you hurt him, I’ll never forgive you.”

Lynch grunts in my direction as Zoe drags me down the hallway and out of the clubhouse, but I realize as the cool night air hits my face that he never actually promised me Briar was safe from his wrath.Chapter 2Briar

“You want my sister?” Lynch, the President of the Ravens Ruin MC and my best friend for the last ten years, is livid, understandably so.

It takes a lot for him to get this upset, but I always knew Molly was going to be a source of contention between the two of us eventually. I’ve pictured how this conversation was going to go more times than I can count. Each and every scenario has ended with me hanging from the end of his rope.

“Answer me,” he spits.

“No.” I’m sick to my stomach the second the lie spills from my lips.

I’ve never been forced to lie to him before. There were a couple of times Molly and I were caught talking, gravitating a little too close for his liking, but never have I opened my mouth and purposely lied to him.

“You’re hard,” he hisses. “I thought you didn’t get turned on.”

I almost laugh. Man does he have things completely wrong.

“I’m celibate,” I remind him. “Not dead.”

I’m not going to go into detail how a hot chick rubbing on any celibate man’s cock has the potential to make him pop wood.

“She’s been drinking,” I explain. “I caught her coming down the hallway with some hangaround asshole. I put a stop to that shit real fast. She was mad.”

I shake my head. I don’t want things worse for her, but at the same time, I’m saving my own ass here.

“She jumped up and kissed me. You guys turned the corner like a split second after she did it.”

Another lie.

Her lips were on mine for eleven seconds the first time she pressed her mouth against me, four with them just pressed to mine as if she was debating taking things further. Four fucking seconds. That’s how long I was able to resist the brush of her tongue until I opened my mouth for her. I spent the remaining seven seconds experiencing the most erotic kiss of my life. The brush of her tongue, that mutual groan.

Jesus, if I keep thinking about it, my cock will never soften.

“She probably won’t even remember she did it tomorrow,” I tack on.

I release a breath I don’t even realize I’m holding when the tension in his arms relaxes marginally.

“Where is the motherfucker?” he seethes. “I’ll make sure that motherfucker never thinks about touching her again.”

“I’ll take care of him,” I offer. “You need to get back to your girl. No telling how long this next trip is going to last.”

His eyes dart from mine and back down the hallway before they settle on mine again.

“You know she’s going to start dating eventually.” Just saying the words makes stomach acid rise up in my throat.

“Not anytime soon. She’s too young.”

“She’s the same age as Zoe,” I remind him. “Keep that in mind when you have your woman spread out for the world to see while you fuck her.”

Zoe and Lynch were seconds away from fucking in the living room just moments ago. It was the only thing that gave me assurance that I wouldn’t be caught creeping after his little sister. Just last week he had one of the new members and one of the clubwhores with them behind closed doors. I don’t know the exact details, but from the whispers I’ve heard, I don’t think it was a riveting game of fucking Uno.

“You want to die, motherfucker?”

“I want to pack my shit for Florida,” I say dryly.

His eyes narrow. “I think a little distance between you and Massachusetts is a good thing.”

“I’ve been telling you that for weeks, Brother.”

I turn and walk away, surprised when he doesn’t follow me or wrap his belt around my neck. When I look back down the hallway before pushing open the door to room three, he’s gone. I don’t know what tomorrow will look like after my friend has had all night to stew on what he witnessed, but right now I have something else to take care of.