“No shit,” the guy snorts. “Winston about murdered me for booking you. He’d definitely kill me if I got a glimpse of you naked. I mean, outside of the magazines since I have seen you naked in them.”
“Hold on. Did you say Winston?” I ask in disbelief. Surely there’s another Winston who lives in town…
“Yeah, Winston Prescott. He’s your stepbrother, right? I had no idea when I booked you, I swear.”
“Oh fuck,” I groan. “Is Winston in your motorcycle club?”
“Ah yeah, you didn’t know that?” Cannon responds.
“I’ve been busy and haven’t really talked to him in a few years.” Or ten of them.
“Yeah, well, that’s too bad. He’s still a grumpy son of a bitch but he always has your back, you know? That’s why he’s our VP.”
“VP?”
“Vice President. He’s been helping run things ever since Roman started this chapter of the club five years ago.”
“Right,” I say absently, still trying to wrap my head around this information. “So, ah, what does his wife think about him being in the club?” I add, trying to sound casual.
“Wife?” Cannon chuckles. “Winston doesn’t have a wife. Kind of impossible when he’s screwing a different tourist every night, like he’s on a mission to bang a chick from all fifty states.”
“Guess some things never change,” I mutter, unable to picture Winston as a biker. I mean, yes, I know he’s always loved anything on wheels, especially motorcycles, but I didn’t take him for the type to get mixed up with bad guys, which makes me think I don’t know anything about the man I once loved.
Winston
* * *
For the past week, I’ve been distracted, unable to concentrate on anything for very long. Zoe’s dad has tried to call her but gotten no response, so all I can do is wait and see if she shows up at the dealership.
“You still trying to decide if you’re going to see Zoe or not?” Roman asks when I’m sitting alone at the bar, after everyone else is gone. Even Leo, the quiet fucker, abandoned his bartending duty to head over.
“Yep. You going?”
“No,” he answers, which is a relief. “Charlotte and I are going to pick up Tessa and bring her to the house, get her settled in.”
“Good,” I mutter.
“You don’t have to go either. You could come with us.”
“No thanks, prez.”
“All right. Suit yourself. But if you do go, keep your fists to yourself. Some of those men are your brothers, even if they occasionally act a fool.”
“I know.”
One thing I’m certain of is, I don’t want to see any man’s hands on Zoe and I’m not sure I could handle it without it coming to blows. But at the same time, I know I’ll never forgive myself if I miss my one and only chance to see her before she leaves. Who the hell knows how long she’s here for?
Getting on my bike, I ride over to the dealership, not surprised but still irritated to see how packed the parking lot is, with a line formed and wrapped around the building.
Since it looks like the line will take a while, I decide to send Cannon a text message—not one threatening to end him, but telling him I’ll be in the garage and asking if he would let me know before Zoe leaves.
His reply is instant: Sure thing, man.
While I wait, I decide to work on a few bikes that could technically wait until Monday but will help pass the time.
I’m halfway through rebuilding an engine on a Softail Harley when the door to the showroom floor opens.
I glance over, expecting to find Cannon or Conrad, but instead see a nearly six foot tall gorgeous brunette in a tiny, bright pink, string bikini, with a matching purse hanging over her shoulder. The triangles on her top barely cover her nipples, and the bottoms, well, I don’t have to see her ass to know it’s a thong.
Zoe doesn’t say a word at first. She simply puts her hands on her hips and inhales deeply. “Wow, the smell of motor oil sure does bring back a lot of memories.”
I’m guessing she’s referring to the night we were together, but she looks so fucking good that all the words in my mouth have dried up.
“Don’t you have some clothes you can put on?” Those are the first words I utter, which is not how I imagined greeting her after all this time, but for some reason, I just can’t hold them back.
“What does it matter how little I’m wearing. You’ve had your hands or mouth on every inch before, right?”
The reminder sends a jolt of desire right down to my cock, causing it to swell.
“The list of who hasn’t seen me naked is probably shorter than the one of those who have,” she adds.
As soon as she says it, I can’t stop myself from throwing down my ratchet and marching right up to her. Zoe’s eyes widen at my sudden approach and then she takes a step back toward the closed door, like she’s reconsidering her comment.
Before I even know what the fuck I’m doing, or why, I reach for her waist and spin her around. One hand grabs the back of her neck while the other reels back and then connects with her ass, making her gasp and shout, “Hey! What the hell!”
The second and third hit land on her backside, leaving my palm stinging and her ass cheek red with a few dark smears of grease.
“A-aren’t you…afraid of getting me dirty?” she stammers, trying to look at me over her shoulder. My fingers squeeze her neck to keep her facing the door. Years ago, I hated the sight of dirt on her beautiful, flawless skin, especially when it came from me. Now, not so much.
“Not anymore. You’re already so fucking filthy, a little grease won’t hurt you,” I lean forward to growl into her ear while keeping my hips back far enough that my erection doesn’t poke her. “You should be ashamed of yourself,” I add, completely aware of the hypocrisy in my words.
I’m ashamed of my own horny and violent reaction to seeing her again, but I’m completely unable to contain it. Here we are, right back where we left off ten years ago, in a garage with me touching my stepsister in ways I have no right.
When she doesn’t respond to my harsh insult, more of my word vomit spews all over her.
“How dare you send me nudes of yourself like I want a subscription to Sluts R Us.” I’m even more of a fucking hypocrite now, because I’m staring at her round, perfect ass in her pink thong while calling her out.
“So, you’ve never gotten yourself off to any of the photos?” she asks, trying to twist her neck again while I hold her in place tighter. “Right, Winston?”
Instead of lying or admitting the truth, I spank her even harder three more times, my dick throbbing behind the fly of my zipper with every delicious jiggle of her ass.
“Jesus! Why do you keep hitting me?” Zoe exclaims when the final echo of flesh meeting flesh quiets down.
“Because somebody needs to fucking punish you for the shit you’ve been doing, and since your father won’t, I will.”
“You don’t get to decide what I do with my life, Winston! In fact, I honestly don’t know why you even care what I do with my body.”