“No, you’re not.” Is he insane? I’m trying to get rid of him, not have him move in!
“Yes, I am, whether you like it or not.”
“I’m not going to sleep with you,” I warn him, assuming he thinks I’ll be easy to get under him like before.
His frown lines deepen. “That’s not why I’m staying.”
“So then, why are you?” I ask in confusion.
“Because I worry about you all the goddamn time!” he exclaims. “At least now that you’re here in the same city, I can do something about it.”
“You didn’t worry about me when I was a teenager, so why now? Back then, I couldn’t get you to spend ten minutes alone with me in the same room!”
“If I had spent more than ten minutes alone with you back then, we would’ve slept together more than just that one night.”
That’s…surprising. In fact, I’m so shocked by his admission I finally lower myself into the closest chair to process it. “Seriously? You think we would have…”
“Yes,” he answers simply, swiping his palm down his face.
“Most of the time, you wouldn’t even look at me,” I remark. Is he just saying a bunch of crap to change my mind about screwing him this week? If so, it’s completely pointless. I won’t make the same mistake twice.
“Same reason,” he mutters. “I had to move out of this house as soon as I turned nineteen because of you. I didn’t trust myself to keep my hands off of you after your sixteenth birthday when you were finally legal.”
Holy shit! He wanted me when I was sixteen? No, he’s lying, telling me what he thinks I want to hear. Besides, I remember exactly why he told our parents he wanted his own place. “I thought you moved out because you wanted your own place to hook up with all the tourists.”
“That too,” Winston replies with a half-grin that only lasts a few seconds before it disappears and his face returns to resting grump. “Anyway,” he says as he gets to his feet, “I’m going to grab a few things from my place and come back. Want me to bring dinner?”
Have dinner alone with the stepbrother I’ve screwed before he insists on staying here all night? What could go wrong?
No, I’m stronger than that. I’m no longer the naïve teenager with hearts in my eyes. I won’t give in to him, no matter how hot he is now or how hard he tries.
“Sure, if you want to eat.”
“How about seafood?” Winston asks. “I’m guessing it’s not the same up north as it is on the coast.”
“Yeah, seafood would be good,” I agree because he’s right. I have missed the fresh shrimp from the local restaurants.
“I’ll be back in half an hour,” he tells me before he walks out the house. I hear the sound of the lock turning before his boots stomp down the wooden steps.
And like an idiot girl with a crush, I find myself already missing him. I was just planning on spending the week catching up with my dad and Deb, not sitting alone in their silent house. So, I guess I’ll let Winston stay if he insists, but it doesn’t change anything between the two of us.
Winston
* * *
No matter how many times I tell my goddamn eyes to stop looking at her, they won’t obey me.
Zoe is just…god, she’s so fucking beautiful it hurts, even with her hair pulled up in a ponytail while wearing cotton shorts and an oversized tee shirt. Hell, especially when she’s in casual clothes, looking like she’s ready to roll around in bed. She’s always been gorgeous but now, there’s something about her that makes her irresistible.
I can’t exactly put my finger on it. Before, when she was younger, Zoe was classically pretty yet innocent. Now? She looks like a naughty girl who loves rough and dirty sex. And finding out that I had her first? Well, it makes me feel ten feet tall and bulletproof, even though I want to slaughter all the men who came after me. In ten years, I’m guessing there have been a lot.
Fuck. Spending the week looking at her but not getting to touch her is going to kill me. At least she finally dropped the argument about me staying because I wasn’t going to take no for an answer. I come over here and stay with my mom whenever Martin has to travel for work. There are a ton of shady people who come and go in this town so it’s never completely safe, even in the offseason.
“So how long have you been in the motorcycle club?” Zoe asks from across the dining table before popping a hushpuppy into her mouth. And goddamn, she even makes eating sexy. No wonder she gets paid to model. I may be an expert at repairing vehicles, but I couldn’t tell you any of the types of cars or motorcycles she’s posed naked or topless on because her body is too distracting.
“Winston?” Zoe says to get my attention when my gaze lowers to her nipples I can see clearly through the thin cotton of her shirt. Of course, around the house, she wouldn’t wear a bra.
“What?” All the blood has rushed south to fill my dick so even a simple conversation is hard to follow.
“How long have you been part of the Savage Kings?”
“About five years,” I answer, noticing she’s eyeing the patch on my chest warily yet again, like she disapproves.
Her lips wrap around her straw to drink her tea and I come close to making a mess in my jeans. “What do you all do exactly?” she asks.
“This and that,” I answer vaguely. “We own the Harley dealership, a club on the strip, a bar, and a few rental properties.”
“Do you charge rent from businesses for protection too?” she asks with another roll of her eyes.
“No, we’re not the mafia,” I respond.
“So, no drugs?”
“No hard drugs. We like weed as much as anyone, and maybe make a little money on it. We might get some ’shrooms on special occasions,” I answer honestly.
She nods. “I’m guessing you have more than a few biker groupies.”
“Maybe, yeah,” I answer since there are local girls who hang around the clubhouse and at the dance club, Fluid, eager and willing to go home with any of the guys who want to take them up on their offer. I steer clear of them, preferring the girls who are just passing through on vacation to avoid drama.
“Do you all…share them?” Zoe asks as she pops a shrimp into her mouth.
“What do you mean, share them?” I ask in confusion.
“Like, pass them around, take turns fucking them in the same night or whatever.”
“Nah, we’re not into gang bangs, if that’s what you’re referring to. Some of the guys might spend different nights with a girl but not at the same time, unless she asks for a threesome,” I answer. “Why do you ask?”
“Just curious, I guess.” She shrugs her shoulders, but I don’t buy it. That was an oddly specific question. Before I can prod further, though, Zoe’s phone rings. “I need to take this,” she tells me when she gets up and steps into the hallway to answer.
Of course, I eavesdrop, but it’s impossible to figure out who or what she’s talking about since she only occasionally says a word or two. What I do catch is that she’s free after tomorrow before she thanks them and hangs up.