Rhythm of the Road (Lost Kings MC 16)

He glances at me. “You need your other stuff?”

“Kind of.”

He leans in and kisses my forehead again. “I’ll go see where the van is.”

“Thanks.”

He closes the door behind him, and I strip off the rest of my clothes, dropping my bra in the sink. I probably should’ve taken it off before asking Rooster to come all over my tits. I’m traveling with a limited amount of lingerie and don’t exactly have time to pop into Wal-Mart for new stuff.

I glance around the small, but neat and clean bathroom, and locate a few towels that smell fresh. I dig my travel cosmetic bag from my backpack. The large bottle of face wash Cindy insists I use to clean off the heavy stage makeup is in a different compartment, and I pull that out as well. Carefully, I peel the false eyelashes off and toss them.

Stripping out of the rest of my clothes, I twist the taps on in the shower and wait for it to warm up before closing myself inside. My hair’s a mess of snarls. After thoroughly wetting it, I carefully shampoo all the sticky hairspray out, then slowly work conditioner through, using extra on the ends.

“Hey, I wanted to do that.” The door opens and Rooster steps into the shower behind me.

I turn to face him, and he cups my cheeks, staring down at me with such intensity, my gaze flits away. Stripped of makeup and clothes, a sense of naked vulnerability washes over me.

He grazes my chin with his knuckles and tips my head back. “Much better.”

“What?”

“Now I can see your pretty face.”

My lips twitch into a half-smile. “You really hate the makeup, huh?”

“No, I just like the girl underneath more.” He brushes wet strands of hair off my cheek. “You wrecked me out there, you know?”

“I’ve been waiting all night to give you one hundred percent of my attention.”

Instead of answering, he leans down and presses his lips to mine, gentle at first. With a sweet reverence, he deepens the kiss, sinking his fingers into my hair and angling my head. Our bodies mold together under the streaming water, slick and hot. His hands move from my face, sliding up and down my back, pulling me against him. He’s all hard, solid muscle and warm, wet skin.

“Shelby,” he groans against my neck, kissing his way to my shoulder. “Are you done? I want my mouth on every part of you.”

Delighted shivers race over my skin, tightening my nipples to hard points that Rooster dips down to kiss.

“Uh…” I can barely think.

He smirks up at me. “Yes?”

He rests his hands on my shoulders and turns me to face the water, gently rubbing his big hands through my hair. “Good?” he asks.

“I think so.”

That’s enough of an answer for him to reach forward and slap the water off. Holding onto my hand, he steps out and I follow. He reaches for a towel and crouches down, rubbing the fluffy terry cloth over my damp skin.

I grab another towel and flip my hair, twisting it into a turban.

“Cute.” He taps the tip of my nose with his finger and wraps a towel around his hips. I cover myself with the other towel, knotting it over my breasts.

“Are you sure you’re not hungry?” he asks, melting my heart with his concern. “You haven’t eaten all day and did an awful lot.”

“I’m a little bit now. But I don’t want to eat this late.” I run my hands over my hips. “Trust me, I’ll eat like a horse tomorrow.”

“Good.” He twists one hand in my towel and yanks me forward. “Can’t have those sweet curves disappearing.”

I snort-laugh. “Trust me, they run in the family. They’re not going anywhere.”

“I don’t think you’re understanding how wild you make me.”

“Well then, show me.”

Rooster

Finally, finally, I have Shelby all to myself.

Wet, naked, and squeaky clean so I can dirty her up again.

I sweep her up and carry her into the bedroom, then gently set her down on the bed. She reclines against the pillows and I follow, trailing kisses down her neck. She arches her back and threads her fingers in my hair.

“Rooster?”

The heaviness in her voice stops my exploration. I shift my gaze to her face and wait for her to continue.

“We never really…but, uh, have you…you know…?”

By the little crinkles on her forehead and anxiety in her voice, I don’t need her to finish the question.

Part of me wants to lie because she won’t believe me anyway.

“Have I what?” I force some lightness into my tone. “Given anyone else a ride on my beard?”

She doesn’t laugh.

I shift my weight forward so I’m staring straight into her eyes when I give her the truth. “No.”

Relief flickers over her face, followed by, just as I’d guessed, disbelief.

Can’t blame her. If someone had told me five years—hell one year ago—I’d be turning down free pussy because I was inside-out over a chick who lived two thousand miles away, I would’ve laughed my ass off. Loyalty and brotherhood are the main reasons I joined the MC, but I’d be a fuckin’ liar if I said tapping as much club ass if possible wasn’t also on my list back then.