Train's Clash (Biker Bitches 4)

It was how Train would treat her if she wasn’t careful.

“Come on.” Killyama held her hand out to her mother. “It’s getting late.” She lifted her mother to her feet, opening the screen door to let her enter first. “So, what did you think of Train?”

“He’s very handsome. Is he always that polite?”

“Usually. I have never really seen him lose his temper.”

“That’s good. That quality is important to have if you’re thinking of marrying a man.”

“Train and I won’t be getting married. We might be doing the midnight limbo—”

“Let’s keep it PG rated. We’re close, but I really don’t want to hear any details about your sex life.” Her mother laid a blanket on the floor, positioning Killyama’s legs and arms the way she wanted them.

“But that’s the best part. You have to miss that …” Killyama tried to find a way to phrase it delicately so it wouldn’t get her smacked upside the head with her mother’s drawing pad.

“No, I don’t,” Peyton said firmly before changing the subject back to Train. “How long have you known him?”

Her mother curled up in her father’s recliner as she drew. Killyama was used to her mother not talking as she worked, giving herself free reign to talk about Train now that she had decided to introduce him to her.

By almost one a.m., she couldn’t sit still any longer. She stretched when they finished for the night.

“Mama?”

Her mother looked up from placing the pencils she was working with neatly back into their case. “Yes?”

“Will you draw me a picture of Train?”

“You’ve never asked me to draw a picture before.”

“I thought, if we work out, I could give it to him.”

“And if it doesn’t?” Her mother arched a curved brow.

“Then I’ll make a dartboard out of it.”

Killyama could easily see out to the parking lot from where she sat. If she got any freaking closer, her nose would be pressed to the tinted window. The parking lot in front of the Destructors’ was filled with motorcycles, except for the one she was waiting for.

She propped her legs up on the chair in front of her, using them to silently warn the men not to join her. Then her eyes dropped to her cell phone that was staring blankly up at her. Train had texted her two hours, saying he would be there by now. Thankfully, Sex Piston wasn’t there to witness her being stood up.

“Come dance with me. You’re wasting time waiting for a man who’s not going to show.”

Killyama didn’t take her eyes off the window, telling Bear, “It’s mine to waste.”

“I don’t get it. What does he have that you can’t get right here?”

“Rhythm. You suck at dancing.”

She heard his boots walking away.

Dropping her legs to the floor, she started to scoot out from the table when she saw Train turning into the parking lot. He held the heavy bike steady as he found a spot at the end of a row.

She turned her chair so she was facing the bar and pool table. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Train coming in through the door, scanning the crowd for her. Spotting her, he made his way directly to her table, despite several of the men yelling out greetings to him.

“I’m sorry. Viper—”

“Dude, I’m not married to you; I don’t need to hear your excuse.”

Train’s mouth closed with a snap.

Standing, she walked to the edge of the dance floor. “You coming?” It wasn’t one of her favorite songs, but she began dancing to the loud music.

Train took his jacket off, setting it down on a chair before coming to stand next to her. “You never act the way I expect you to.”

“How am I supposed to act?”

“I don’t know. Cuss at me, dance with someone else … I even thought you might have gone home.”

“That’s a lot of deep thoughts for a man. Why didn’t you just call and find out; save yourself the suspense?”

“I didn’t want you to tell me to fuck off, or to not bother coming.”

Killyama slipped one thigh between his. “You thought I’d be a bitch to you?”

“Yeah.”

“If you show, you show. It’s no big deal. I was hanging out, anyway. I save my bitching skills for stuff that’s important.”

“I don’t know if I should be relieved or pissed off.” Train brought his hands to her hips, pulling her closer until her pussy was riding his thigh as they danced.

“Take your pick. Just keep moving. What you’re doing feels good.”

“Next time, I’ll call.”

“Maybe I’ll answer.” She pressed her breasts against his chest as she slipped her arms around his waist, tucking her hands into his back pockets so she could guide his hips where she wanted them.

She wanted to drag him to one of the spare bedrooms and fuck him until he begged for mercy. Instead, she continued to dance, trying to appear as if his closeness wasn’t getting to her.