Train's Clash (Biker Bitches 4)

“That’s better.” Train stroked his thumb over her collarbone, just beneath the bandana.

“Don’t touch me!” she hissed.

Train moved his hand to her waist, her abdomen quivering under his touch.

Remaining quiet, she hoped he would go as soon as he said what he apparently wanted to say.

“I do want to pay you back, but not the way you’re thinking. I want to pay you back for the last night we were together.” Train brushed his lips over the corner of hers. “You can’t fuck a man like that and not expect him to come back for more. It’s been two months since I felt you under me.”

“I would think the only thing you’d remember about that day was Sasha.”

“I was angry, but I’m over it. It actually worked out for the best. Shade found a way to fix Sasha’s problem, and Moon’s, too. You actually did us a big favor. If you hadn’t forced our hand, Sasha would still be hiding out. Now she can do anything she wants—stay in Ohio or Treepoint.”

“She didn’t get jail time?” Killyama pretended not to know.

“No.” Train travelled his mouth to her jaw before slipping down to her neck. When his lips would have nuzzled the bandana, she used her forehead to move his head away. The mark on her neck was barely noticeable, but she kept it covered so Sex Piston wouldn’t ask questions.

His eyes crinkled in amusement as she carefully watched his reaction, trying to ascertain whether he knew she was lying or not. Other than humor at her situation, she didn’t see any tells. He could be deceiving her, though, but why would he? Shade had given his word not to tell The Last Riders she had helped Sasha out of jail.

Payback is the only reason he’s here, she told herself, despite his denial.

Train must have seen the distrust in her eyes.

“I’ll tell you what. Spend another night with me, and we can call it even.”

“I’m done making deals with The Last Riders.”

“Not even one more?” He inched his hand up higher to cover her breast, searching for the nipple that was aching for his touch.

Her mind kept switching sides. One part of her wanted him so badly it was worse than the addiction she’d had when she quit smoking. The other part of her could imagine him standing over her dead body, using his boots to grind her into the dust.

“I don’t do one-nighters anymore.”

He raised his head up at that. “Why not?”

Fucker thought he was going to get his something-something from her again. That wasn’t happening.

“I decided I deserve more than leftovers.”

“You’re going to get married before having sex again?” The horrified look on his face had her smiling.

She almost lied, but she had no intention of cutting off her nose to spite her face.

“Hell no. I’m never getting married.”

“What’s wrong with marriage?”

“Husbands fuck around on wives.”

“Not all the time.”

“Most of the time. A woman who kills a man who cheats on her gets a lighter sentence if she’s not married to the fucker.”

Train’s mouth dropped open. “You’ve looked up the statistics?”

She rolled her eyes. “I didn’t have to.” He thought she was being ridiculous. “Wives get charged with first-degree murder. Girlfriends get charged with involuntary manslaughter. I want to get out of prison when I can take a piss without using a bedpan.”

He released her hands, laughing so hard she had to put a hand over his mouth.

“Sh … Sex Piston will—”

Star came jumping into the room with her mother and father behind her.

Killyama clambered off of Train’s lap, giving him a scowl as she righted her clothes.

“Were you tickling Train, too?” Star asked innocently.

“Yes. I was trying to find his funny bone. Lunch ready?” Killyama tried to delay the inevitable questions Sex Piston would ask, not caring that Killyama wouldn’t want to answer in front of Train or Star. Her friend couldn’t care less if she was embarrassed or offended.

“Did you find it?” Star giggled, taking her hand and skipping by her side as they went into the dining room.

Rocky, Sex Piston and Stud’s son, was already sitting at the table, eating a grilled cheese sandwich. Sitting down next to her brother, Star began eating her lunch, as if afraid he would swipe the grapes from her plate. The boy just might. He would shove anything in his mouth, which was why Stud had nicknamed him Rocky after he had to pull rocks from his mouth more than once. He wasn’t outgrowing the habit, either. The adventuresome child would eat anything. Killyama had suggested calling him Iron Man, because his stomach could handle anything.

“No, he doesn’t have one.” Killyama started to pull a chair back from table, but Train did it before she could.

“Yes, I do.” Train smiled at Star, mumbling aside so only Killyama could hear, “Want me to help you find it?”