Easy Little Lick (Copperline #3) (9 page)

“Oh feckin’ hell,” I heard Denny say into the still-live mic. “Let’s go, fellas.”

I shoved my hands into the dickhead’s chest, pushing him back into the crowd a bit.

“Leave her the fuck alone,” I growled.

“You gonna make me, boy?” he snarled back, posturing for a brawl. “You’re awful pretty. Do you really think you can take me?”

“Fuck yeah, I do.” I puffed out my chest, feeling the anger course through my veins. My body was pumped and ready to go. I wanted to kick his ass.

He looked over to his friends, then back at me. “I’m not here alone, you know. You might be able to put up a good fight, but my brothers will fuck you up.”

“He’s not alone either,” Justin stated from my right, and the fucker glanced over to see that Justin wasn’t shitting him.

We were local celebrities. These guys were just passing through. One thing they didn’t know that everyone else in the bar did was that you did
not
fuck with the Bangin’ Mofos in the Copperline Bar. This was our turf, and we had the manpower to back it up.

“Jesus, Harold,” one of the other bikers muttered, “this ain’t cool. Every guy in here wants to kick our asses right now. Plus you’re being a dick anyway.”

Harold looked around, then back to his friend who’d spoken, checking out the faces of those around us, realizing that they were a bit outnumbered. It was evident, though, that he was either too drunk or too stupid to care.

He jerked away from his friend and came towards me, giving me just a second to push Ilsa away towards Denny who stood to my left with a nervous Felicity. I barely caught a glimpse of Felicity urging her back from the fight when the guy hit me.

Fuck
, he hit hard, too. His tough act was
not
just an act.

But he was fighting to fight. To be an asshole, pissed that his moronic behavior wasn’t appreciated.

I was fighting to protect Ilsa.

I swung back, catching him with a good, solid blow to the ribs that caused him to double over. A good shove, and he stumbled back. With a growl, he came right back at me, swinging with large meaty fists. I avoided some punches, but a few connected. I was dimly aware of scuffles going on around me as others started to join in the fray.

Brannon had stepped up, probably the closest to my size, and was holding back the biggest of the biker’s friends, preventing him from jumping in to help kick my ass. Justin was in his own little brawl with another, a little wiry guy who successfully evaded him until Drew got the dude in a headlock. A few guys from the crowd stepped in as well, staring down or holding back the remaining bikers, keeping the last shred of civilization from turning into pure anarchy.

Suddenly, a deafening boom echoed through the room.

And there was Doug, standing with a shotgun aimed at the ceiling as bits of wood and plaster fell around him.

That crazy fucker had just shot off in his own place.

We all froze solid.

“Get the fuck out of my bar,” he scowled to the bikers.

“I thought this joint was biker friendly,” one of the strangers spat.

“It is,” Doug replied. “It just isn’t asshole friendly. Now get the fuck outta here before I call the cops.”

After a tense little standoff, they finally backed away and headed out the door. The crowd straightened and began to disperse, and Denny walked up to clap me on the shoulder.

“Jaysus, you bloody eejit, maybe give us a little warning before ya go all white knight on us again, hi?”

“Speak English, you fucker,” I chuckled back distractedly, glancing around behind me. I pulled my T-shirt from where I had tucked it in my pocket and slipped it back on.

Sophie, Felicity, and even Maggie approached their guys, searching for boo-boos to kiss and fussing over the guys’ bravery for taking on the bikers. Doug shot a nod in my direction, seeming to be half thanks and half warning for my attention to Ilsa.

Ilsa.

Shit.

Where was Ilsa?

I couldn’t see her anywhere.

“Felicity,” I said, leaning towards her and Denny, “where did Ilsa go?”

“She’s right here…” she replied as she turned and looked behind her, but there was no Ilsa there. “Shit, she was right behind me.”

“Go check in the office,” I barked at her and Denny, heading towards the back room. I nodded to Brannon and Sophie as I started walking away. “Bran, see if she’s out back.”

I pushed through the crowd, past the bar and towards the storage room. It was quieter in here, muting the sound from the barroom where Doug had started up the sound system, trying to regain the party vibe now that the excitement had mellowed some.

“Ilsa?” I called out softly as I stepped through the door. There was no answer. “Ils?”

Still nothing. Silence. I couldn’t hear a thing. Just as I started to turn, though, I caught the faintest glimpse of her tennis shoe sticking out behind a couple stacked kegs. Torn between the need to comfort her and her obvious desire to be alone, I hesitated but a second before I stepped over to where she sat and crouched down in front of her.

She was barely moving except for the occasional tremble that wracked her petite frame. So quiet that I thought she may have been holding her breath, willing the world away. My heart ached and swelled. All at once I wanted to hold her and protect her. I wanted to beat the shit out of that fucker in the bar for triggering this fear. I wanted to go apeshit on whoever had made her this way in the first place.

Her face was buried in her arms as they lay folded over her bent knees. There was an angry red mark on her wrist from where that bastard had grabbed her, and her entire body was curled up into a protective little ball.

“Ils,” I repeated, “what is it? What's wrong?”

“It’s okay, Cody,” she said into her knees, her voice muffled, but still sounding raw and shaken. “I just need a minute.”

“You’re not okay—”

“Please, just give me a few minutes,” she interrupted, still not lifting her face. “I’ll be fine.”

I carefully reached out, lightly touching her shoulder. Her reaction was immediate—a flinch followed by a gasp. She was barely hanging on by a thread.

“Look at me, Ilsa,” I said firmly. Gently.

My fingers pushed the curtain of hair back from her face as I carefully attempted to draw her out of whatever terror had a hold on her. Finally, she lifted her head, just barely, but enough to peek up at me. The fear in her eyes was staggering.

“You’re safe,” I promised.

Her forehead furrowed and she shook her head minutely.

That heartbreaking little motion did something to me. Something I couldn’t quite comprehend. All I knew was that I could offer her comfort. Security.

Something.

“Come here,” I whispered as I attempted to gather her into my arms.

She hesitated at first, then broke with a sob, coming forward to fold herself against my chest. Her entire body shook as the shock began to settle in, and she buried her face against my neck, bursting into tears.

“Shh…” I murmured against her hair. “It’s all right.”

Her arms gingerly crept around my waist. Before long, she was clinging to me, clutching me. She was terrified. But why? Of what?

My fingers combed through her hair and trailed down her back. Back and forth. Soothing her fear. Feeding her my strength. We barely moved for I don’t know how long, only adjusting a little as I sat on the floor and pulled her across my lap.

“What’s wrong, Ils?” I asked after a while.

She sniffled and shook her head, pressing her face into my neck.

“What happened out there? You can tell me,” I urged.

But her fingers gripped me tighter. Her voice was barely audible, muffled and low.

“Will you just hold me for a minute?”

She asked me to hold her.

Yes!

This was incredible… other than that she was in the midst of a full-blown panic episode and clutching me as though she was drowning. That part kind of sucked. A lot.

But I was holding her. She
wanted
me to hold her. She
admitted
that she wanted me to hold her.

So I did. I wrapped my arms around her, sheltered close to my heart, and her trembling began to ease.

One moment, I only wanted to comfort her… and then she shifted. Just a little.

Everything changed.

The awareness of her pressed tightly against me began to bloom in my chest, opening like the roses in my mother’s garden. Layer by layer, like the petals curling back to reveal the sweet beauty of the blossom.

Her fingers, clenched ever-so-slightly against my ribs, flexed the tiniest bit, her nails scraping against the soft cotton of my T-shirt. Her breathing changed. The short, stilted inhalations took on a different sense, spectral wisps that caressed my skin. Almost simultaneously, we pulled back just a tiny bit, just enough to meet each other’s eyes.

“What happened?” I asked, intent on getting some kind of explanation out of her.

“He hit you,” she whispered, brushing my question aside with a shake of her head as she lifted her fingertips up to the swelling bruise by my eye.

Sweet, but also avoiding my question.

“Better me than you, right?” I offered with a sad smile. “But what happened? What freaked you out so bad?”

Her watery eyes looked luminous in the dim light of the store room, and as she blinked, another tear broke free and trailed down her cheek. “I’m so sorry that he hit you.”

Still trying to put me off.

“Ils,” I murmured, “don’t. I’m fine. I’d do it again in a heartbeat, but seriously—”

“Why? Why did you do that?”

Oh for fuck’s sake
… she wasn’t going to tell me shit. Not now anyway.

“You needed me.”

I fixated on the feral look in her eyes.
She'd been hurt, but how? By who?
She reminded me of a scared animal, as though any sudden movement would send her darting away.

Yet there was a sudden heat, a hunger that pushed through her trepidation. Maybe it was born of avoidance, something to distract me from asking her anything more. Hell if I knew what fueled that burn, but the air became heated and thick. Her cheeks tinged pink and her heart rate increased. Her breathing became choppy and the heat between us magnetically pulled me towards her.

I knew I was a fucker for doing it, for taking advantage of this moment, but I couldn’t seem to stop myself.

My fingers paused for only a moment as they sifted through her silky hair, cupping the back of her head. As they combed through the long, silky strands, her eyes rolled back and she leaned into me, drawn closer by the undeniable pull between us. My other hand slipped down to the small of her back and unconsciously coaxed her more firmly against me. The pull of lips seemed too strong—too natural—to resist.

“Fuck,” I groaned, lowering my head to kiss her.

I tentatively touched my lips to hers, brushing them lightly. As she leaned into me—as she cautiously kissed me back—my arms tightened around her. The tip of my tongue flicked out to taste her kiss, and she emitted a tiny moan that did crazy shit to my insides.

My lips teased and toyed with hers, and her movements became bolder. She began to press into me of her own volition. Her nails dug into my back in a rhythmic, wanting manner. Her hips flexed against my groin, and the hard-on I had going started raging. Burning. Aching.

My hand on her back moved lower, cupping her perfectly rounded ass, and my other dropped, tracing down her neck to brush along the side of her breast. My fingers skated down her ribs as her arms came up to my shoulders, wrapping around my neck. Like lightning in a dry storm, she seemed to ignite around me. Her gentle caresses left a scorching trail in their wake.

Suddenly, the door opened, and she all but jumped off me. Her chest rose and fell as she stumbled to her feet and tried to calm her breathing. Even now, she looked so seductively beautiful. I was pretty sure there would be some permanent damage due to the painful erection straining against my jeans.

“Is she in here?” Felicity asked.

“Yeah,” I gruffly replied. My throat was hoarse and heavy. My body felt chilled after the sudden loss of Ilsa’s heat against me. “We’ll be right out.”

Felicity didn’t seem to take my hint, instead stepping into the room and walking towards our hidden corner by the shelves. She eyed me with speculation as I sat on the floor, then Ilsa who leaned up against the wall before me, her hand over her chest.

“Are you okay?”

Ilsa nodded and stepped around me. “Fine,” she murmured. “I need to get back to work.”

Before either Felicity or I could say another word, she was out the door.

“Cody?” Felicity began. “Is she okay?”

“I don’t know,” I replied as I stood, “but I don’t think so.”