Rebellious (3 page)

Apparently I was deemed too much of a flight risk to drive myself.

I'm ashamed to admit that the thought hadn't occurred to me until we were literally standing in the parking lot. If I could somehow get Tucker away from all these bikers and cross the parking lot to where my car was still parked at the gate, and if I could start my car (the way today was going, that was a big if), we could get away.

That was a lotta ifs.

But I still held a sliver of hope as I dug through my purse for my keys—and that was when the brute took control. He shoved a helmet into my chest with a grunt.

“Um, I know my car's in bad shape, but it's not need-to-wear-a-helmet bad.”

“There's no way I'm letting you drive that piece of shit anywhere. I still can't fucking believe you drove my kid here in that death trap,” he muttered while his thumbs flew across the screen of his phone as he texted with someone. “Give me the keys.”

My last glimmering hope of escape fluttered away, but I held firm. I'd stood passively by when he took my phone; I wasn't letting him have my car keys, too. “Not happening.”

“I'll have one of my guys at the shop give it a once-over while you're at my place.” He shoved his phone into his vest pocket and gave me his mean biker expression. “Besides, there's no way in hell I'm letting you get behind that wheel. You're gonna head for the hills the second I give you a chance. I'm not as dumb as you think I look.”

“I don't think you look dumb. You look…” My mouth started before my brain caught up. Dammit. I didn't mean to say that. Nothing on this earth could make me finish that sentence. Although judging from the smug smile curving his lips, Tucker's dad knew what I thought about his looks. “Besides, there's no way I'm leaving without Tucker,
Mr
.
Gifford.
”

His eyes narrowed at my mention of Tucker. Or maybe it was my use of his name. I had said it kinda snidely. “Enough with this mister bullshit. Call me Reb.”

“Reb?”

“Yeah. Reb or Rebel. You calling me Mr. Gifford has got me looking over my shoulder for my old man. I don't need any reminder of that evil fucker.”

Not sure of what to make of that statement, I nodded uncertainly. “Reb. Check.”

Taking advantage of my distraction, Reb snatched the keys out of my hand and tossed them to Sig, who apparently had been hovering nearby. “Move it to the shop. And you.” He nodded at the helmet hanging limp in my left hand. “Put it on. We're leaving.”

I looked between him and the helmet, then opened my mouth to say something particularly scathing, when the side door opened and Zag and Tucker appeared.

“Hey, Miss Clark. What are you still doing here?” Tucker walked over to his dad and took up a similar slouch, with his thumbs hooked into his belt loops.

Reb put a hand on his son's shoulder. “She's gonna come stay out at our place tonight.”

“She is?” Zag's eyes swung between me and Reb. “And you're okay with that, Emily?”

“Depends.” I bit back my initial thought, conscious of our audience's young ears. “Do I have to blow Sig first?”

Zag's jaw hardened and his eyes took on a steely expression. He clearly didn't enjoy being called out. Good. Because I hadn't enjoyed his little comment earlier, either.

“She's fine with it,” Reb barked. “But me and you are gonna have a little convo tomorrow about Sig's
responsibilities.
”

Zag hitched a shoulder like that didn't bug him in the slightest. “I still wanna know if you're okay with going to Reb's place, Emily.”

“Why the hell does that concern you? You weren't so caring when I first showed up here.” If anything, he'd been insulting.

“You're Jess's friend. I'm just watching out for you.”

I couldn't help my snort of derision. His brand of “help” wasn't welcome.

“You don't need to,” Tucker piped up with a glare at Zag. “I'm watching out for Miss Clark. You don't do it right.”

My snort turned into a full-on belly laugh. Wiping my eyes, I turned to Tucker. “Thanks, bud. With you on my side I think I'll be okay.”

“That's my boy.” Reb patted Tucker's shoulder with a hard wallop. “Let's go home. You're on the back of Zag's bike. Emily is with
me.
”

Zag gave me another searching look, which I avoided while I strapped on the helmet Reb had shoved at me earlier.

And a minute later I watched Reb toss a leg over his large motorcycle. He grabbed the helmet off the handlebars and strapped it on, then jerked his chin at me. “Climb on.”

I looked between him and the hem of my sundress. Clearly this would've been easier in jeans like he was wearing. How did I get on and avoid showing the whole city my hind end?

“Get on the fucking bike, sunshine. We don't have all night.”

Okay, then. Taking a deep breath, I gathered the bottom of my dress in one hand, climbed on behind Reb, then tucked the excess material under my thigh.

“Hold on.” Reb started the motorcycle and it rumbled to life beneath me.

I gasped and clasped my arms around his waist. I felt the vibrations of the bike clear into my soul. Something about this—either the bike or the biker in my arms—felt undeniably right. Like a missing chunk inside me had been patched.

I must've hit my head when I twisted my ankle earlier.

Reb bobbed and weaved through the club's parking lot, then shot through the gap of the open gate. I clutched at his waist frantically to hold on. The mix of fear and adrenaline had my pulse pounding in my ears.

Zag's bike echoed in a growl behind us as we sped toward the freeway. The wind whipped against my face while Reb didn't even slow for stop signs. Less than a minute later he opened up the throttle as we sped down the freeway to the south end of town and into the night. My arms tightened around his trim waist and I let out a squeal.

Clearly there was something seriously wrong with me—at least judging by the huge smile on my face. Given all that had happened tonight I should've been upset. Instead I was giggling like a manic and having crazy, sexy thoughts about what I'd like to do on his motorcycle later when it was just me and him.

Insane.

Still, I couldn't stop my hands as we cruised down the freeway. The whole time, my hands roved over his six-pack abs and his Adonis belt in some vague attempt to hold on. Really, if I was honest with myself, I was just feeling him up. I'd never been with a man who was so ripped he had that firm V under his abs. It wouldn't take much more investigating to discover if he was hard
all over.
But I resisted. Barely.

I know I should've been pissed—his high-handedness had left me no escape—but there was something insanely exciting about feeling a man's hips between my thighs as his motorcycle vibrated under me. Plus it really didn't hurt that Reb was hot. His body did that attractive wedge thing with his broad shoulders and small waist. He was hard all over—at least judging from the way his stomach felt under my hands. And then he had that badass vibe down pat. It was an irrefutably hot package.

On the south end of town, the business district turned into shopping malls and suburbia, then the large sprawling McMansions faded into pastures with cattle.

We pulled off the freeway at the last exit and blew through the stop sign at the end of the off-ramp. Granted, out here in the boonies and at this time of night it would be easy to see if traffic was coming, but the chances he took made my hands grip him tighter.

All too soon we pulled up to a rambling ranch house with a wraparound porch.

It was my dream house. When I was little and we were moving from apartment to trailer park to couch surfing with friends, I would dream about the kind of house I would live in when I was an adult.

There was something particularly galling about the fact that Reb lived here.

I was an upstanding citizen. Worked a respectable job as a school librarian and a summer job at a bookstore to make ends meet. I'd toed the line my entire life, and I was still barely scraping by. I was living in an apartment and driving a crap car because I was up to my eyeballs in student loans. I'd just had to have that damn master's degree. Hell, I was still paying for my bachelor's degree. Hence the crap home and car.

But Reb lived here. In
my
dream house.

Shaking my head at the unfairness of it all, I swung off the bike, then stood there staring up at my dream house. Dammit, he even had the front porch swing that I'd wanted. I bit back the impulse to say something about crime paying. I'd already seen him angry once tonight, and I really didn't want to do anything that would bring that Reb back to the surface.

I turned back to the bike, but Reb wasn't on it any longer. Instead he was right in front of me—so close that I had to tip my head back to be able to look into his face. I opened my mouth to apologize for invading his space, but I froze once I saw his expression. He stared smugly down at me and lifted one eyebrow imperiously.

And suddenly I was reminded of what I had done on our ride out here—my hands all over his body, caressing his muscles, wondering about the parts I couldn't feel. And meanwhile he'd felt it all. All my curious touches. The lingering way I'd stroked his abs. My featherlight touch south of his belt.

The look in his eyes told me I hadn't been as delicate with my touch as I thought.

He knew. He knew everything I felt about him.

I opened my mouth to say something, anything, to shatter the sexual tension hovering between us, but then everything went sideways and I found myself swept into Reb's arms once again.

“What are you doing?” I gasped.

Reb grunted. “It's dark and the ground's uneven out here. Don't need you twisting your other fucking ankle.”

Knowing better by now than to argue with this man, I gave up the fight, clasped my arms around his shoulders, and let him carry me across the yard and up the front steps. Zag and Tucker waited for us at the front door.

My body burned as both their gazes took in my position in Reb's arms. I really hated feeling helpless. Even worse to have an audience.

“Why are you carrying Ms. Clark?” Tucker blinked owlishly up at me.

“She twisted her ankle,” Reb rumbled in response, then turned to Zag. “I'll see you at the clubhouse tomorrow afternoon.”

He jerked his head in a tight nod. “You sure you're okay, Em?”

I just rolled my eyes and ignored the question. Like he really cared. “Tell Jess I'll call her tomorrow.”

The sharp reminder had Reb squeezing me a little tighter in retaliation.

“I'll see you tomorrow, slick.” Reb ignored my subtle threat. “At the clubhouse.”

“See ya later, Zag,” Tucker yelled as he took the keys from his dad and started on the dizzying number of locks on the door.

We were in the middle of nowhere. Why would he need so many locks? Especially since there was a huge bay window three feet away. Weird.

Zag opened his mouth like he was going to say something, then shook his head and left.

Which was okay with me. I was fine on my own. Plus I had my threat of Jessica's wrath. She'd been dating his best friend for over a year—Reb had to know by now that my bestie wasn't someone you screwed with.

And I also had Tucker.

Biting his bottom lip, my savior worked on the last lock. After a second, we all heard a telltale click and he pushed the door open triumphantly. “Come on, Miss Clark. I want to show you my room. I have the most awesomest bed ever!”

Tucker raced inside, leaving Reb to carry me over the threshold.

I blocked out the symbolism. Mostly.

This was my dream home, dammit. A few steps down the entryway—hardwood, by the way—it opened into a sprawling living room with a connected dining area. Here, as in his office at the clubhouse, leather ruled the day. But unlike the ones in his office, these couches were made of the softest, most buttery leather, which caressed my skin as he set me down on the loveseat.

“I wanna take a look at that ankle again before you go tearing around the house with Tuck.”

I hitched a shoulder like I didn't care. Like his fingers weren't causing an outbreak of goosebumps all over me. Or that the mixture of leather and tobacco wasn't making my nostrils flare. Instead I concentrated on my surroundings. The huge bay window that would probably have iconic views in the light of day. The large flat-screen television across the way. The haphazard collection of picture frames on the opposite wall. I strained to look, but most of them appeared to be of Tucker growing up, and a few of Reb's buddies in the club. Most notable was the absence of a certain woman in Reb's life. Any woman, really.

So apparently the sexy biker palpating my ankle was unattached.

“Maybe we'll put some ice on it later tonight. But you're fine.”

“Good. Great.” I pulled my ankle out of his grasp and tried to stand up but couldn't once Reb pressed his huge hands down on my thighs.

His gorgeous blue eyes were impossible to ignore this close to my face. “We're gonna need to have a little talk later tonight about those roving hands.”

I winced and could feel the flush spreading over my face. “Or we could skip it and just say we did.”

Reb slowly shook his head.

“Okay.” I bit my lip and stood despite his hands trying to pin me down. “Where's this awesome bedroom, Tucker?”

Anything to get me away from this awkward conversation.

“Over here,” Tucker yelled from beyond the long hallway at the opposite end of the room.

“I'll be right there, bud,” I yelled in reply.

“And I'll be in the kitchen when you guys are done in there,” Reb said from somewhere behind me.

Yippee. I couldn't wait.

An hour later I'd discovered Tucker was right. His room was awesome. He had one of those desk/bunk-bed combos and a whole wall devoted to his favorite pastime: motorcycles.

“Dad got me a Honda CRF50 dirt bike for Christmas. I can only ride it here on our property, but Dad built me a huge track out back with jumps and turns and stuff. I don't race or nothing. Maybe later. And then when I'm old enough to get my license, my dad'll get me my first hog.”

And that's how most of the past hour had gone. “My dad said” this or “My dad can” that. It didn't take a social worker to see the clear hero worship in Tucker's eyes. And I felt like I had enough experience, between my own past with my less-than-ideal childhood and my time as a librarian at a middle school. I spent all day with kids and clearly this one wasn't abused or neglected, at least not by his dad.

Then there was the fact that he hadn't once said anything about his mom. Obviously he wasn't missing her. I wondered if his mom missed him. Something told me the answer was sadly no.

“I'm gonna go get something to drink before bed. Do you want anything, Miss Clark?”

“How about you call me Emily, Tuck? Since we're friends and all now.” I wasn't ashamed to admit that I was trying to delay my impending appointment with Reb in the kitchen.

“Okay, Emily.” Tucker grinned up at me, then raced out of the room. Apparently he didn't share my desire to avoid the man down the hall. “Follow me!”

It would be really silly of me to linger in Tucker's bedroom. And yet it took me a second longer than I'd be willing to admit to leave. And it wasn't because it was so awesome. Nope, it had to do with the big, scary biker waiting for me in the kitchen.

I wasn't scared of him, I reminded myself as I left Tucker's bedroom and slowly walked down the hall. Okay, he had punched that wall. And the look on his face…It had been scary. I froze halfway to the kitchen. What was I doing? I was going to walk into that room like everything was fine? Like he hadn't terrified me just an hour earlier? With no backup, no one around to even hear my scream?

Muted voices drifted to me from the kitchen. Reb and Tucker were spending some quality father-son time. Like a normal family. Maybe I was going a little overboard. Reb wouldn't turn into that scary guy within earshot of his kid, right? He seemed to be the type who cared what his child thought of him. The kind who cared, period.

There was something officially wrong with me. I was romanticizing a biker—and forgetting his asshole move of taking my phone. I needed to keep that in my mind at all times or I'd never get through this. Clearly I needed to have my head examined.

But still I continued down the hall toward the happy noises coming from the kitchen.

Where I found Reb leaning against the cabinets on the far side of the room. He straightened up slightly when he saw me, his eyes flaring with something hot. It brought out the fight-or-flight instinct in me. Mostly the flight. I wanted to run so badly, but I'd gathered he was the type who enjoyed the chase. His lips curved like something about me amused him. I really hoped he couldn't read my thoughts on my face.

“Hey, Emily.” Tucker smiled at me from his perch on a bar stool next to the kitchen island. “Do you want anything to drink? Dad's got coffee going, or you could have some water like me.”

“Coffee,” I squeaked. Taking a second, I cleared my throat, then continued in something that sounded more like my voice. “Coffee sounds great.”

Anything that'd help me stay awake. Yes, please! My plan was to stay awake all night in case I needed to fend Reb off. No way was I going to fall asleep tonight.

“I've got it, bud.” Reb pushed away from the cabinets with a lazy grace. He opened a top cabinet and took out a coffee cup, then covered the short distance to the coffeepot. Pouring the steaming liquid into the cup, he turned his searing eyes to me. “Sugar?”

“What happened to ‘sunshine'?” I said, referring to his oh so cute nickname for me.

“Smartass.” He closed the distance between us, placed the coffee cup and a spoon in front of me, and nodded at the colorful pots near the fridge. “Sugar's there. And creamer's in the fridge.”

I ignored his obvious closeness and the squirmy things it did to my stomach. Instead I quickly filled my mug with as much creamer and sugar as it'd hold without spilling coffee over my hand. When I turned back to face the room, Reb smirked like I'd done something hilarious.

“I'll leave you more room next time,” he rumbled.

His “next time” sounded ominous, like this would become a habit or something. And it did more squirmy things to my tummy.

Seriously, there was something wrong with me. Stolen phone, held hostage, screwing with my sleep. I felt like I needed to list all the stuff he'd done, to keep myself pissed and in the right frame of mind. He was a dick, not Prince Charming material. At all.

“And you.” Reb nodded toward his son. “It's way past your bedtime. So hop to it.”

Tucker grumbled some, but after a refill of his water glass and a good night to me, he went back down the hall, and a beat later I heard his bedroom door click closed.

Leaving me alone with Reb.

Like he could hear my thoughts, or just see them broadcast across my face, Reb turned to me with a predatory grin. “Alone at last.”

“Yes.” I gulped. “Alone. Again.”

Reb nodded toward the bar stool Tucker had just vacated. “Take a seat.”

Unable to come up with a plausible reason why I shouldn't put myself back within his reach, I slowly crossed the room, then grabbed the bar stool farthest from him. Like that was going to stop him. He chuckled, then walked around the island and took up a slouched position directly across from me. Leaning forward, he rested his forearms against the countertop and looked into my eyes.

“So tell me about Tucker's life with Rhonda.”

Honestly, that was the last thing I'd expected him to say. I blinked a few times, then answered. “She's not around much. But then again, we're not exactly friends.” I grimaced. “She hasn't really endeared herself to the neighbors.”

“You don't have to say it. I know what kinda woman she is. There's a reason we're getting divorced, after all.”

I smiled slightly at that. Apparently he was capable of diplomacy when he wanted to be. “From what I've seen, Tucker spends most of his time with Jonas Simpson and his family, in their apartment downstairs. They've sorta become his surrogate family.”

Reb winced at my description and pushed away from the counter. “Fuck.”

I opened my mouth to say something. I wanted to take it back but I couldn't—it was true. So instead I buried my face in my coffee mug.

After a few beats, Reb stopped pacing and faced me once more. “But they're nice? Tuck's”—he gritted his teeth before continuing—“surrogate family?”

I put my coffee mug down and met Reb's tormented eyes. “The Simpsons are an awesome family. Jonas's mom, Morgan, is wonderful. She's so nice and a great cook. There's always the most amazing aromas coming from their apartment.”

“Nice to know someone's feeding my kid occasionally. Son of a bitch!” Reb scrubbed a hand over his buzzed head. “I knew I should've put someone on their place. I
knew
it. But that bitch promised me she was taking care of him. After all, he's her fucking ace in the hole. Christ.”

“Ace in the hole?” I parroted, before my brain caught up with my mouth.

“Yeah. She's using him to prolong the fucking divorce. We separated almost a year ago, but the judge won't sign off on the divorce until custody is sorted out. And Rhonda is fucking using
our kid
to milk me for more money. Fucking greedy bitch.” He kicked the trash can to punctuate that sentence.

I flinched. And just that instantly was reminded exactly what kind of man was in front of me. One who thought of women as bitches. One whose ex-wife was blackmailing him, which meant he'd done some serious shit in his life. One capable of violence—mostly restrained in my presence, but violence nonetheless. It was there, boiling just under the surface.

My skin itched. I wanted to scrub my hands with soap and water like I always did when I felt uncomfortable, but I was afraid to move. I didn't want to draw attention to myself since Reb was so pissed off. I'd learned that lesson from my ex, Michael. So I just buried my head in my coffee mug like it was the most interesting thing I'd ever seen. Anything to avoid the simmering tempest three feet away, and my inexplicable attraction to this angry man.

What was it about him? I should've been more wary. I had a not-so-great history with men who had anger issues. My father. Michael. I should know better. So why did I find Reb so appealing? Even after what he had done tonight, I still couldn't deny my attraction to him. I wanted him. Wanted to be under him, his hands fisted in my hair, him inside me.

Dammit, there was something wrong with me. Why was I only drawn to men who were bad news?

After a minute he appeared to get himself under control. At least from what I could gather as I watched him from the corner of my eye—all sly-like.

“Can you give me the contact info for your neighbor? Morgan Simpson you said?”

“Um, yeah, I have her number in my phone. So once you give it back to me…”

“Nah, where's the fun in that? I'll get one of the boys on it. If all that shit's going down like you're saying—not that I'm doubting you or nothing—I'll have a conversation with her. See if she'll testify for Tucker in court.”

“I can testify. He spends some time at my place, too.” I mentally kicked myself. That wouldn't get me my phone back, plus it would put me in Reb's life even more. The last thing I needed was another man with anger issues. No matter how much I wanted him.

And apparently he didn't think that was a good idea, either. “See now, sunshine, I don't think that would work.”

“Fine. Just give me my phone back, I'll give you Morgan's number, and we'll never have to see each other again.” Why did that leave me deflated? I took another slurp of my coffee and tried not to let my emotions show on my face.

Reb came around the counter and stood way too close to me. His body heat warmed my arm, but I didn't turn toward him. It took everything inside me not to give in and twist to see the expression on his face. And his gorgeous baby blue eyes.

“That's not what I meant. I'm afraid you testifying in court would be seen as a conflict of interest.”

My heart thundered in my chest. “Conflict?”

“Mmm-hmmm.” Reb leaned forward, resting his arms on the countertop on either side of me, enveloping me in his scent. His words ruffled my hair next to my ear. “I'd rather have that testimony come from a neutral party.”

“I-I-I could be neutral,” I croaked. God, why did he have to smell so good?

“Uh-uh,” he murmured softly. “I don't think the judge will give much weight to what the woman I'm fucking says about my ex.”

I closed my eyes as my clit pulsed at the way he'd said “fucking.” It was almost as intimate as the act itself. He gave the vulgar word a tender inflection that was practically…sweet. And yet oh so dirty.

Yeah, I know. I had a problem.

“I-I-I…But we're not. Fucking, I mean.” I winced at my awesome comeback.
Great, Em. Really great. That'll tell him!

He nuzzled my hair away from my ear. “By the time this gets in front of a judge, we will be.”

A wave of goosebumps broke out over my body at his whispered words. Without meaning to, I swayed toward him. His lips brushed my earlobe, and I melted. I was a pile of goo at his feet. And even worse than that—he knew he had me. I could hear the smug smile in his voice as he whispered to me again.

“Good. You feel it, too. That'll make things a lot easier, sunshine.”

I shivered. I wanted to say something pithy—something to let him know that he couldn't have me that easily—but his stubble rasped against my cheek, and I was gone.

He nudged my head to tilt with his, then grazed his stubble up my cheek until he caught my earlobe between his teeth. Nibbling gently, he caused a whole new outbreak of goosebumps. Then he whispered in my ear. “I knew the second I saw you. Knew you'd be mine. Knew you'd taste sweet. Fuck, I can't wait to have you.”

How did he know my earlobe was my weak spot? My nipples hardened into two aching, throbbing points at the combination of his rasping voice and what he was doing with his teeth and stubble. I'd thought I was alone in my attraction to him; that it wasn't mutual. He had spent most of our time short together growling in anger. But he wanted me, too! I tried to put all these thoughts into an articulate sentence, but all I managed was a moan when he breathed hotly into my ear.

“That's right, sunshine. Moan for me. Let me know just how much you want this, too. Christ, I can't wait 'til I can get you alone and really make you sing. But for now this'll have to do.”

He spun my bar stool around until I faced him, my legs trapped between his. I blinked helplessly up at him. His face had that same hard quality I'd seen all night. But now, instead of frightening me, it excited me. Made my blood thrum in my ears at a heady pace.

Reb slowly leaned down until his arms bracketed around me once more, his palms resting on either side of me on the counter. Keeping his eyes on mine, he deliberately lowered his head and stopped only once his lips were a hairsbreadth from mine. He hovered there for a second, waiting for me to protest or give some hint as to what I wanted.

So I gave it to him. Unable to help myself, I swayed toward him and closed the short distance. My lips brushed his once, and he took it from there.

His lips slanted over mine in a commanding kiss, telling me without words how much he wanted me. I'd never felt anything like it before in my life. I wanted him now. I wanted him here. I wanted him however he was willing to give it to me. I'd always enjoyed the give-and-take in sex, but not now. Now I wanted to be taken.