Train's Clash (Biker Bitches 4)

“You gonna share that steak dinner with me? I don’t have anything to do tomorrow night,” Moon shouted out from beside Winter.

“Depends on when Killyama wants to go.” Train winked, eating his cake.

“She going to share that massage Sasha promised you when she comes over next week—” Crash howled when Willa slammed his piece of cake down onto his hand.

“No, I gave that to Rider.”

“Why not me? I’m the one who … Fuck, that hurt. Willa, you could have just handed me the damn fork.”

“Brother, it might be safer for you to eat your cake in the kitchen.”

Killyama couldn’t see Lucky, but his stoic threat had Crash leaving the table with his dessert.

Crash’s comment hadn’t upset her. She was used to men teasing each other. She didn’t expect Train to watch every comment he made around her.

“You better insure that belt buckle. Some of the brothers look like they are eyeing it.”

Train tilted his head to the side, studying her. “The brothers always ask before they borrow anything.”

“You lend anyone that belt buckle, you won’t get it back.”

Train took a bite of his cake. The intensity of how he was watching her made her curious.

“It doesn’t bother you that Stori gave it to me?” he finally asked.

“The only thing I’m jealous about is how much better that belt buckle would look on me,” she answered candidly.

No matter how good or expensive a present was, it wouldn’t make a person care about the person giving it. A big diamond might get you a piece of tail, but when a woman walked out the door, she was taking the ring and leaving the husband behind. That was why she couldn’t understand why the women were upset over the men complimenting Stori on her dish. A woman could prepare a four course meal, and their man would still slip a donut when she wasn’t looking. If she was going to get jealous over her man, it was going to be because of something big, like Train finding happiness with the massage Sasha had offered.

“You want me to help you carry some shit upstairs?” she asked as they placed their plates in the kitchen sink.

“Can I trust you?” he teased as he went toward the dining room where the cake was all but demolished with only a fourth left, which Willa was carving into smaller pieces.

“Of course. I mean, you’re wearing the one I want.” She picked up the six-pack cooler and the beer pong set, careful not to break the shot glasses that had titties stenciled on them. What the man didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. She was just as envious of some of his gifts as the brothers were.

In his bedroom, he had to search for a place to set his gifts down. She found a spot for the beer pong on a wall shelf.

“Where do you want me to put this?”

Train set most of his things on his desk before reaching out to take the cozy cooler from her. She curled a finger through the opening, refusing to give it up.

“Did I ever tell you I hate to drink hot beer?”

Train laughed, leaning his hip against his desk. “No, you haven’t.”

“Well, I do. And Crazy Bitch always brings a six-pack of beer when she makes me cruise around with her and T.A.”

Train’s smile slipped. “Where do you cruise?”

“Around Jamestown … after the high school has a basketball game.”

“Do you ever stop when they want you to pull over?”

“Fuck no. We just like to piss off the high school girls.”

Train released the beer cozy. “I can share. I’ll use it for when I go fishing or hunting, and you can have it until basketball season is over.”

“That works for me. I’ll take it home with me. You don’t have enough space in your room to keep it, anyway. Let me know when you need it, and I’ll let you borrow it.”

She slipped off her high heels, and then slipped her pants down her legs, showing him the birthday thong she had bought for him. Leaving the top on he had asked her to wear, she stepped between his leg, bringing her hands to his belt buckle.

“You need some help getting out of those jeans?”

He stopped her from unbuckling his belt. “Depends. Are we going to have a custody dispute over my belt buckle?”

She suggestively dropped to her knees. “No, I’m going to let you keep it.” She started to slowly remove the belt. “It says The Last Riders, not the Destructors.” Once his jeans were open, she licked a path from the blue jean snap down to where the zipper began. “You taste like birthday cake.”

Train ran his fingers through her hair, using it to tilt her head back. “I love you.”

She burrowed her face into his thigh, despite his restraining hand, not looking up. “You’re on a sugar high.”