However, Chelle would.
So, they did their best to keep the fact to themselves that they were climbing the walls to climb each other. Shade was fucking fine with that since he wanted the woman to be able to live with getting dick from a biker eleven years younger than her.
While they kept that secret from Josie and Maddie, he’d given his prez the lowdown on him helping out a single mother with painting for some extra scratch.
That was exactly how he worded it, too, and then shut the fuck up since there was nothing else to say.
Trip had stared at him for way too fucking long without saying a word.
When Trip finally spoke—right before Shade walked away thinking they were done—he surprised the shit out of Shade by saying, “Invite her on the run Sunday.”
That was the last thing he expected to come from the Fury president’s mouth. The man never encouraged anyone to bring females along on a run, especially women who weren’t ol’ ladies. He tolerated Reilly on the runs because Reilly was Reilly. And while she wasn’t claimed by anyone, she had forced them to accept her as part of the club. The fact was it was easier and less aggravating to cave to Reilly than fight her, since she had the same stubborn blood as her sister, Reese.
But Chelle wasn’t Reilly. Thank fuck. She also wasn’t an ol’ lady or even Shade’s regular. And they were keeping what was between them on the D.L.
“Ain’t like that.”
“Gonna get cold soon, so when it is like that, she’ll have to wait ‘til spring to get a good handle on our club.”
It was more like Trip wanted to get a good handle on Chelle. Shade wasn’t sure he liked that.
“Ain’t like that,” he repeated under his breath. But when his president gave an order, he needed to listen. Right now, Shade was thinking it was only a suggestion and didn’t want it turning into an order if he could help it.
“She can’t have that big of a fuckin’ house for all the time you’ve been gone the last coupla weeks.”
Fuck, Trip had noticed. Or someone else had noticed Shade had been missing a lot and mentioned it to Trip.
“Been up the mountain, too.”
“Know when you go up the mountain, since you give Judge the heads up.” Trip tilted his head. “Also know you ain’t into the sweet butts and never saw you touch one of the hang-arounds. Pretty sure you’re into pussy like the rest of us. A man can only go so long before he’s gotta sink his dick into something attached to long hair, sweet curves and a skilled mouth. A fist ain’t gonna cut it on the regular. Unless you got yourself a Fleshlight...”
Trip let that hang and so did Shade. Even if he had a latex pocket pussy—or even ten—that was no one’s fucking business.
“She know about the club?”
Jesus fuck. “Yeah.”
“She got a problem with it?”
He had no fucking clue. But if she did, he doubted she’d let him around her girls or to sit at her kitchen table twice a week. Or make him dinner on the days they painted.
He really fucking doubted she’d be letting him inside her.
“Don’t think so.” But she also didn’t know much about the club and bringing her along on a run might change that.
“Then she shouldn’t have a problem sittin’ her ass on the back of your sled. And I’m fuckin’ sure you won’t have a problem with havin’ her tits smashed into your back, her warm pussy grindin’ against your ass and her arms wrapped around your waist on our Sunday ride. Also don’t gotta say it, but your Night Train’s got a rumble that will make her cream her fuckin’ jeans. Hell, Stella comes almost every time we fuckin’ ride and I don’t got a Night Train.”
His chest began to tighten. “Ain’t like that, Trip.”
“Then why’d you ask Oz about a room?”
Fuckin’ Ozzy.
“My guess, it wasn’t even a split second after you asked him, he sent out a fuckin’ group text to everyone, includin’ the women, askin’ who you’re bangin’.”
Goddamn Ozzy!
“Also musta forgot we got security cameras along with those security spotlights that not only light up the rear of the crematorium but lit up a Subaru station wagon and its occupants a coupla weeks back.”
Fuck! Even though his heart had seized, blood still rushed to his brain at that news.
“So...” Trip took a couple steps closer to him, caught his gaze and leaned in until the bill of Trip’s pulled-low baseball cap was only inches from Shade’s forehead. “My guess is I’ll see her on Sunday. This time with fuckin’ clothes on.”
“Trip...”
The prez leaned back and raised a palm. “Look, you ain’t Deacon or Easy, or some of the others, who bounce from hole to hole. Or in Deke’s case, used to bounce, ‘cause I’m pretty fuckin’ sure he’d like to keep both his testicles. If you stuck your dick in anything and everything with tits, I’d respect that. What I’m thinkin’ is if you’re sinkin’ your dick in the same wet spot over and over, she’s somethin’ to you. What? Don’t fuckin’ know. But do know I look forward to findin’ out.” He paused and added, much more firmly, “On Sunday.”