“That’s so fucked up! I hate you! I fucking hate you!”
Train blocked her knee jab, trapping her knee between his thighs. “You think that sounds fucked up? I think you trying to save Sasha was fucked up. You could have just talked to Viper, but you were so worried about Sex Piston and Diamond getting in trouble that you put your life in danger.” He twisted one of her hands behind her back.
Killyama frenziedly scratched his cheek with her short nails, and Train just calmly tucked it behind her back with her other one.
She fought against him as he went to the back of her neck with his free hand, untying the bandana. She stared at the blank wall over his shoulder as he pulled it away, exposing the permanent mark that Kane had given her.
“Poor, baby.” Train traced the line at the base of her throat with his lips.
“Don’t poor baby me. I’m not one of your stupid hos. Let me go. I’m ready to leave.”
“I bet you are. You hate being vulnerable.” He took a step forward. With her leg between his, she couldn’t get her balance, so with a push to her chest, Train released her hands as she toppled onto the bed.
She stared up at the ceiling as he placed a hand beside her head.
“I told you that you’re not the only one who can get hurt.” Train took one of her hands, placing it over his heart. “You don’t have a mark on you that I caused. I have sore nuts, a bruised wrist, several bruises on my legs, and you scratched my face. If we’re counting wounds, you’re winning the war. If that’s what it takes for you to trust me, go ahead.” Train straddled her hips without weighing her down. Then he opened his arms wide. “Have at it.”
She stared stupidly up at him. “You’re letting me hit you?”
“Yes, go ahead.” Train took her hand again, putting it in the middle of his chest. “Scratch me again.” When she didn’t make an attempt to do it, he balled her hand into a fist. “Punch me. Go ahead. I know you want to.”
“I don’t want to anymore. You took all the fun out of it,” she confessed wearily.
“Killy, I don’t want to take anything from you without replacing it with something better.”
“Something that every woman in the clubhouse can have?” She continued to stare up at the ceiling. “I knew that Jewell, Stori, Sasha, Ember … and the other hos were competition, but the wives, too? I didn’t expect them to have a piece of you, too.”
“The women members are no competition, baby. They aren’t even in the same league. And the other wives … yes, they have a piece of me, the piece I want them to have. I messed with Rachel, and it felt good, but I don’t get anything from her anymore. Babe, it wasn’t a regular thing.”
“Even if it was once, it’s too much! You messed around with a married woman.”
“Yes, I did. But both of their husbands were there. All of The Last Riders like to share to some extent. It can be some of the best sex imaginable. But if you don’t want to, we won’t. That’s not my rule breaker; it’s yours. And I already told you no other women, and that means the women member and the wives.
“Cash and Viper, they don’t expect me to fuck their wives because I’m their replacement. They shared their women with me so it will make them more comfortable around me if something happens to them. If I was in a relationship, that wouldn’t have been part of the deal. For sure, I have every intention of being faithful to the woman I care about, and that is you.”
She dropped her hands limply to her side. “So, Winter and Rachel are the only two you’ve accepted responsibility for?”
“Yes. And Rider is responsible for Beth, Willa, and now you.”
“I’m everybody’s favorite.”
Killyama turned her head on the mattress to see Rider lying sideways on the bottom of the bed. The chameleon was back, showing her the easygoing man the women were used to seeing.
“I can’t believe they fell for your bullshit.” She had also fallen for it the first couple of times she had been around him. She would have continued to do so, too, if not for Hammer and Jonas’s warnings.
“They did.” He obviously had no conscience or remorse in attaining the trust the women had given to him.
She turned back to Train, unsettled by Rider’s unblinking gaze. “Is it too late for me to choose Shade?”
“After tonight, I’d say yes. But I’ll ask him tomorrow.”
“Wait until morning to make up your mind. You might change it after tonight,” Rider suggested amicably.
One minute she was dealing with Jack the Ripper, and the next, she was staring at Ryan Gosling. The fucker should have gone into acting instead of wasting his skills on a clubhouse filled with women. He could have had thousands at his beck and call.