Bouncer by Kim Jones Page 0,28

begin to unravel.

I pull back, slamming into her, my hips meeting her ass with a slap.

When that feeling barrels up my spine, I pull out and come over the creamy skin of her ass. I let go of her hip, smoothing my hand over her ass, loving the way my come looks on the red flesh.

I grip her chin, forcing her to look at me over her shoulder. Her eyes are tired but happy. Sated. I taste pussy on her lips when I kiss her, which only serves to make me want to take her again.

But she needs to be in bed. And I want to go there with her.

I wash us off and help her from the shower, wrapping a towel around her body and drying off her hair with my towel before leading us into the bedroom.

When we’re finally buried under sheets and blankets, I tuck her against me. She tangles her legs with mine and burrows into me until she’s comfortable.

“Thank you,” she says.

“For what?”

“For…everything.”

I don’t say anything. I just kiss her hair and wait for her to fall asleep.

Sixteen

BOUNCER

Every morning, it’s the same.

I admire her curled beside me. We get up. I feel us distancing before we even walk out—both of us regretting being apart during the day and anticipating the night to come.

This shit’s been happening for two weeks now. And for reasons I don’t want to examine, I hate it.

But I need to. I need to comb through every detail of possibilities. Recon is my job for fuck’s sake. So why have I been able to draw out some of the world’s most wanted from caves in the dessert, yet from this woman, I can’t draw out more than moans of pleasure.

Where’s she from?

What’s the little tattoo on her wrist—a wrist usually covered by those fucking yellow gloves, that only I get to see—even fucking mean?

Not to mention, her middle name. I still want to know her middle name. Need to know her last name.

What, does she think I’m going to Google her? She’s right. I’d do a full background check on her because that’s my safety net. I need to know. That’s how you keep people safe, yourself safe—you know all the shit there is to know about any given place or person.

I’ve wiped down the same spot on me bike for five minutes. I realize it when I look up to see Boots watching me from the corner of the garage.

“You got me a spot ready?” I prompt, wanting Boots to do something besides watch me run through every detail of mine and Apple’s relationship in my head. And I want my bike protected in the corner before people start showing up for this fucking Super Bowl party Chaos has planned.

He nods, pointing to a spot. “Had it ready an hour ago. Got your cover out and ready, too.”

Okay, maybe he’s learning me a little too well.

Most guys don’t cover their bikes. They want them to be admired. Appreciated. Respected. Honestly, I couldn’t give a fuck about that. I just want my shit left alone so I don’t have to hurt anyone.

Cause I will.

Boots takes the rag from me. “Here, let me take care of this. Go rage internally somewhere else.” I give him a look. “You’re harshing my mellow, man.” He laughs.

It’s common knowledge I hate parties. Too much shit can go wrong..

“What’s a fucking mellow?” I can’t help it. I’m on edge. I’m frustrated about this shit with Apple.

He takes my bike by the handlebars. “Nothing. You just look like you need to burn one.”

He’s right. I let go of the bike and he kicks the stand up, rolling it away to its intended spot.

Tonight, I’ve gotta sit back and keep my shit together. I need to play a part in rebuilding this clubs reputation since Chaos took over. That’s what he wants, and out of respect for him, that’s what I want too.

I may not be a permanent figure here, but these are my Brothers.

I reach in my pocket and pull out my smokes, pulling a joint from its contents and lighting up. If ever I need this shit, it’s now.

I sit at a table out front and people watch from a distance, letting the tension release in streams of smoke.

Members and their Ol’ Ladies are starting to fill the main hall when I enter through the back door. I scan each face, checking for outsiders. None yet.

Changing focus, I spot Apple behind the bar. Serving drinks.

Where the fuck