Rush - Blue Devils MC Book 2 (Book 1 Included FREE for a short time only!) (25 page)

~ Ella ~

She’d never met a more aggravating man in her life. People make jokes about women going through mood swings, but that was
nothing
compared to Lain. Last night at the Mexican restaurant, he’d been caring and sweet when she’d accidentally waited too long to eat, and then right at the end, he got all…assholely and stormed out of the restaurant ahead of her. Barely talked to her. Dropped her at the motel off like an unwanted piece of baggage. And dropped her
Louis Vuitton
luggage right onto the ground. She wanted to wrap her hands around his neck and squeeze for pulling that stunt.

Then this morning, he was giving her such hot looks, she wasn’t sure if he’d wanted to eat his pancakes or her for breakfast, but on the way to the clubhouse, he’d gone completely cold on her. Freezer cold. Antartica cold. They’d been laughing about scorpions and TripAdvisor reviews, and then…ice cold. Dropped her off with this mangy group of men while he went off and drank at the bar.

And then Brock - she shuddered inwardly. She didn’t know what the hell Dan saw in the man, but she was terrified of him. Based on Dan’s description, she’d been ready to like him, or at least be turned on by him. Instead, she couldn’t get past his ice blue eyes. They were terrifying. He was terrifying. He looked like he was capable of eating babies for breakfast. Okay, maybe not babies, but his enemies for sure. Lain may go hot-cold on her, but Brock was just…cold.

Mean.

Terrifying.

She turned towards the other bikers and smiled. An old journalism teacher had told her once that confidence was her number one asset - if she pretended like she belonged, if she pretended like she knew what she was doing, then her interview subjects would believe it and follow her lead. Here was the perfect chance for her to test that theory, because she was
anything
but confident.

“So,” she said, walking towards the group, “who watches
Sons of Anarchy
?” Her intentionally cheerful tone fell flat. They just stared at her.
Shit.
She panicked for a moment, and then decided to go with another sage piece of advice, this one from her mother: All men liked to talk about themselves. Listen, and they’ll love you for it.

Ella wasn’t sure she wanted these men to love her, but she did know she wanted them to stop staring at her like she’d sprouted a horn from her forehead.

She turned to the nearest man, ready to ask him how long he’d been a member of the Blue Devils, when she spotted a dried orange pepper hung around his neck. “Oh, you must be Chili!” she exclaimed. His eyebrows shot up and he looked at Lain over her shoulder.

“Telling stories out of school again?” he drawled. His Texan accent twanged in her ear.

She jumped back in again, afraid to get Lain involved in the conversation. Who knew what he’d say or do if given the chance.

“I just mentioned that the Mexican food we ate last night wasn’t very spicy, and he told me that if I liked spicy stuff, I should talk to you. Actually, he said I should challenge you to a pepper-eating contest, but I told him I didn’t think that was a good idea. If you’ve eaten a ghost pepper and lived to tell the tale, I don’t think I’m likely to beat you. When did you discover you liked spicy foods?”

He bragged for a few minutes and she even got a smile out of him. She felt like she was on her way to building a rapport with him when she made a mistake.

“So, how do you like being in a motorcycle gang?” she asked.

“Motorcycle
club
,” he spat back, angrily. “Gangs are thugs and thieves. We just like to work on our bikes. We don’t do nothin’ that ain’t 100% legal.”

The room was deadly silent, which made the sudden burst of rain and thunder just that much more dramatic. The raindrops began beating the tin roof at the same time that thunder rumbled out. Ella was sure she’d felt the thunder shake her intestines.

“What the hell?!” she yelled, leaping out of her seat like her ass had been electrocuted.

She came back down, hands flat on the table, out of breath, staring across the room at Lain, then whipped her head towards the windows. The world outside was a bleary picture of water rivulets and swirling colors. She couldn’t even see out to the truck.

“It’s a monsoon,” Lain said, next to her elbow. She spun around, caught off guard. She hadn’t heard him move, which wasn’t surprising considering the crashing of rain against the roof. “It’ll be gone in a half hour or so.” The winds blew, causing the timbers in the clubhouse structure to creak with strain.

“Ain’t you never been in a monsoon before?” one of the bikers asked.

Fuck faking it until I make it
.

“I’ve heard the word, but no, I’ve never seen one in real life. They don’t happen in New York City, that’s for sure.”

“Well hell, you should go outside and really feel it then,” Chili said, enthusiastic again. Apparently he loved peppers
and
monsoons.

They moved to the back of the clubhouse where a long porch ran along the side of the building. It allowed them to be outside without being directly in the torrential rain.

When Ella stepped outside, she thought for a moment that she’d never smelled anything so clean in all her life. Far from the smog and pollution of New York, here the air was heaven. She let it fill her lungs. They stared out into the pouring rain but as quickly as it started, it stopped.

As if someone had turned off a switch (or a firehose), the rain disappeared and within seconds, the sun came out. Steam rose from the ground, turning the world into a hazy, steamy, wet world.

This was Arizona?!

She wouldn’t have guessed it in a million years.

“Wanna go for a bike ride?” Lain asked, at her elbow again. She jumped again, although not quite as high. For such a large man, he sure was quiet.

“I’ve never been on a motorcycle before,” she admitted.

“Well, right after a monsoon is the best time to go,” he promised. “You’ll want your sunglasses for this though.” She grabbed them from her purse and then stowed her purse in his truck before they walked out to an oversized garage. Confused for a moment, Ella realized that the extra-tall garage doors accommodated the semis when they needed repairs. Lain pulled his bike out of the back and wheeled it up next to her. “Put this on,” and tossed her a helmet while strapping his on.

“When we go around corners, you’ll want to try to move with the bike and me. If you try to stay upright or if you try to lean over too far, you’ll throw off the balance of the bike. If you’re gonna ride bitch, you have to hold on tight and move with me. Got it?” He reached out and pulled on the strap under her chin until the helmet fit snugly in place. She slid her sunglasses into place.

“Perfect. Now, you’re always going to mount from the left side of the motorcycle. These pipes on the right side of bike get real hot while we’re riding. If you lay a leg on those pipes, you’ll be branded for life. It’s easier to avoid those pipes if you get on from the left side.

“I’ll get on first, you swing your leg over and snuggle up against me once I’m in place. That is, if you’re ready for that.” He gave her a lascivious wiggle of the eyebrows and she rolled her eyes.

Inside, her heart felt like it was going to take off into the stratosphere. Here was the perfect chance to plaster her body against his, and she fully intended on enjoying every moment of it. It wasn’t often that she got to enjoy a full-body ride with a guy who could benchpress his vehicle.

He swung his leg into place and settled into the seat. “Okay, your turn.” He waited until she’d balanced herself and adjusted her arms a little tighter around him, and said, “Hold on tight,” before starting the engine.

She felt the instant thrum between her legs, sending delicious shocks through her body.

Fuck! Sitting on a motorcycle is like sitting on a giant vibrator.

He pulled forward slowly, making sure she had a good grip on him before adding a little speed to their ride. By the time they hit city limits, they had hit the speed limit…and then some. She watched the needle move farther and farther to the right, until she finally couldn’t look anymore. She had to trust Lain at this point, because…well, he literally held her life in his hands. For a control freak like her, it was thrilling to just let go of it all. She couldn’t do a damn thing to change any of it, so why worry? She let her head fall back and she closed her eyes, letting the wind and the speed and the vibrations of the motor and the smell of the rain-washed air flow over her.

It was heaven. No wonder Lain and the others were motorcycle enthusiasts. This was the kind of freedom that you could never get from a car or truck. She wanted to throw her arms wide and yell “Freeeeeeeeeedddddoooooooommmm!” into the wind, but she knew Lain would kill her,
if
she managed to live through the stunt.

And anyway, clinging to him had some very nice…benefits. She tucked her head against his back and ran her hands over his chest and stomach. She realized with a gulp that it was hard to reach her arms all the way around him, he was so massive. She felt the ripples of his stomach muscles at play under his taut skin. What did he do - benchpress small houses for fun? She was used to effeminate men like Dan and the other reporters at
Pout
. Men built like Lain just didn’t wander into
Pout
headquarters. She felt…small around him. Not short - she
always
felt short - but petite. That was a hell of a trick and she’d never been around someone who actually pulled it off.

As they wound their way up to the top of a mountain, she clung to him, molding her body to his, doing her best to move when he did, lean when he leaned. She knew it was important for their balance, but she wouldn’t lie - it was also as sexy as fuck.

Suddenly, Lain slowed down and then pulled off onto the shoulder of the road. He turned off the bike and Ella felt disoriented for just a moment. The vibrations, the thrumming, had all become a part of her world so quickly. She pulled herself away from his back slowly and opened her eyes.

“C’mon,” he said, “you’re gonna love this.” She swung her right leg off the bike and stepped onto the ground with wobbly legs. He swung off and stood next to her, bracing her elbow. “You good?” he asked, his eyes crinkling with concern.

“I’m good,” she said, smiling at him. She stared up at him for a moment. He had to be the most gorgeous guy she’d ever met. Her eyes swept over his face, drinking in every feature. She noticed a faint scar through his left eyebrow and it took all she had not to reach up and touch it.

“We should check out the view,” he said, breaking into her reverie. They turned together to look out over the valley. Ella’s breath caught in her throat. The saguaro cacti stood like sentinels, scattered throughout the landscape, guarding the desert. But the saguaro was the only part of the landscape that looked like she had expected.

The desert was…green. Green everywhere. The side of the road gave way to a steep cliff, but down the side of the embankment were yellow and oranges flowers blooming. And on the horizon, she could see the monsoons dancing over the desert. Dark blue, violent, angry, unleashing their power in a torrential rainfall. There were three separate storms on the horizon, but between them, there was sunshine and bright blue sky. The contrast was stunning.

She looked back at the road they’d wound their way up. The heat of the sun had already caused the water to evaporate off the black asphalt - looking at the road, she couldn’t even tell it had been raining an hour earlier.

But the desert…it was so green!

Lain let her take in the view and then said softly, “We get monsoons every summer. From July to August, we get them every afternoon. It’s because of the heat and the moisture from the Gulf Coast and the something something affects the something else, and we get monsoons as a result.” Ella laughed up at him and he smiled playfully in return. “Aren’t you glad you have your scientific advisor here to give you all the technical details?”

“I’m sure that’s how they taught it in meteorology class, too,” she laughed, sticking her tongue out at him. “‘The something something happens up in the sky, and then you get rain. Any questions?’” she joked, mimicking a professor.

“Yes,” he said, suddenly serious. “What do your lips taste like?”

Her breath caught in her throat and she stared up at him, wide-eyed. She had no words, no way to respond. He reached out, hesitantly at first, giving her a chance to say no, and then wrapped his hand behind her head, pulling her up to him, his mouth swooping down to meet hers, open, demanding, needing all, wanting all, unwilling to take no for an answer.

He crushed her against his chest and she slowly reached her arms up, sliding them around his neck, hands finally able to grasp the chocolate strands that had been enticing her. His tongue slid inside, teasing, begging, encouraging. She gave as good as she got, heart thrumming like the motorcycle engine. She was on fire, and loving every moment of the heat.

Finally, slowly, sweetly, he began to pull away, smaller kisses, pulling his tongue away, letting her slide back down his chest until her sandals touched the ground. She rubbed up against his erection on the way down, and knew he wanted her as much as she wanted him. She finally opened up her eyes and stared up at him.