Dynasty (Boys of Winter 1)

“You tell me,” I say, stepping closer and leaning into him. “But I’m not going to lie, hard and fast is my specialty. Now that really gets me hot.”

“Where?”

I press into him, shoving my hands against his chest and slamming him up against the brick wall of the club. “Right here seems just fine to me. There’s always something so thrilling about the possibility of getting caught.”

A sleazy as fuck grin twists across his face as his eyes become hooded and his hands fall back to my waist. He goes to pull me in, and I prepare myself for a fight, the excitement building within me, knowing that I’m finally going to be able to satisfy that demanding itch within me.

My hand curls into a fist and just as I go to rear back, a strong grip circles my wrist and hauls me away from my target. My back slams against the wooden fencing that lines the alleyway just as I get a quick glimpse of a tall man slamming his fist against the pervert’s temple, instantly knocking him out.

The guy crumbles to the ground, and after I right myself, I fly back toward the newcomer. He seems like a much bigger target, but damn it, I know I can handle him.

The man spins around at the very last second and Carver’s face flashes before me. “What?” I stumble out, catching myself, but before another word can come flying from my mouth, a furious Carver grips my arm and yanks my sorry ass right out of the alleyway.

I stumble, desperately trying to keep up with his long, fast strides and avoid falling to my ass as he hauls me back toward his Escalade. I fight against his grip, wanting nothing more than to pummel my fists into his perfect face and hate on him for making me question myself. How dare he? Why won’t these fuckers leave me alone?

Carver walks straight past my Ducati and I pull desperately on his hold before he gets tired of my bullshit and curls his strong arm around my waist, lifting me straight off the ground.

I’m shoved right into the back seat of his Escalade and go flailing across it. The second the door is closed; I fly for the handle only to find the fucker trapped me with the kiddy-lock. He gets straight in the driver’s seat, and leaving my Ducati behind, he takes off, his tires squealing against the asphalt.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” I demand, launching myself right off the backseat and trying to get to him as he drives, but like lightning, he grips my arm and pulls hard, somehow making my ass land right in the front seat beside him.

“Me?” he demands. “I’m not the fucking problem here. You don’t like one thing that I say and the way you deal with it is by coming out to some run-down whore house and throwing yourself at some perverted dickhead? Come on, babe,” he scoffs. “I know your standards are pretty fucking low, but I thought even you had a little more class than that.”

I fly at him, the anger pulsing through me like wildfire. “I HATE YOU,” I scream, but his arm snaps out and I’m thrown back into my seat, his strength like nothing I’ve ever witnessed before. “Do you honestly think that lowly of me that I’d fucking whore myself out to trash like that? Fuck you.”

“Then what the fuck were you doing? Because it sure as hell looked like you were about to get on your knees for him.”

“What’s the matter, asshole? Jealous?”

He scoffs and I try to fight him off again only to be shoved right back into my chair, this time with a little more force to get his point across. I look over at him, my jaw clenched, but the idea of him thinking so lowly of me doesn’t sit well in my gut, not that I should give a shit what he thinks.

I let out a heavy sigh, feeling completely exhausted. “I wasn’t throwing myself at him. I was looking for a fucking fight. I was going to beat the shit out of him because storming into your room and suffocating you in the middle of the night seemed like a dick move, but maybe I should have reconsidered.”

Carver just shakes his head, the scoff that comes tearing out of his mouth making me feel more pathetic than ever before.

Realizing that I have no way out of this, I relax my grip on his arm and he instantly releases his. I can’t help but wonder what’s going to happen to my bike, but for some reason, where Carver and the boys are concerned, I feel like it’s going to be just fine.

We sit in silence as Carver drives us back to his place, and as he brings the Escalade to a stop, he looks back at me, the moonlight barely shining upon his skin. “Come with me.”