sounds at the door. He’s standing on the other side; his arms braced high on the doorposts, his head hanging down, long hair flopping in his face. Slowly he lifts his head, those blue eyes burning behind the blunt fringe of his lashes.
“Hi.”
That’s all I manage to say before his hand shoots out, hooks me behind my neck, and he slams his mouth on mine.
I’m in shock, my body frozen even as his tongue pushes between my lips, but it takes only one possessive sweep of my mouth for me to ignite. The abrasion of his beard is a new sensation, one I like a lot. My hand lands on his chest, curling into his shirt, as he walks me backward inside, kicking the door shut behind him.
A picture frame crashes down beside me when my back bangs into a wall, but I’m already beyond caring. I barely notice when he pulls the elastic from my hair, mostly focused on his other hand sneaking under my shirt, his rough palm rasping against my skin.
I moan in his mouth when he pulls down the cup of my bra, his fingers closing around my breast at the same time he presses a leg between mine. My hands skim restlessly along his back, down to his clenched ass, the muscles hard under my touch.
“Shit,” he hisses when he lets me up for air.
“Wow,” falls from my bruised lips.
I can sense him retreating, even before he says anything, as his hand releases my breast and he takes a step back.
“I’m sorry. I—”
“Some tea?” I cut him off, straightening my clothes as I turn to the kitchen. I don’t really give him a chance to answer, pulling down a couple of glasses from the cupboard and getting the jug from the fridge.
I don’t look but I can hear his footsteps approaching. Turning around I hand him a glass and take a sip of mine.
“I shouldn’t have—”
Again I interrupt. “I was right there, Yuma. Participating. Willingly.”
Those eyes meet mine and behind his beard I see one side of his mouth tilt up.
“I noticed.”
“Yeah. So, you hungry?” I quickly change the topic, feeling my face get hot. “I haven’t had dinner. You?”
Yuma
“Nope.”
I was supposed to have dinner at the club but ended up walking straight out of the clubhouse earlier. I’m not happy something so significant was kept from me. It feels like betrayal, not just by Ouray, but by Trunk, Kaga, and Red too. It fucking burns.
“Pizza?”
“Sure.”
I watch as she pulls a takeout menu from a kitchen drawer and orders a large pie. The whole time I’m reliving the feel of the weight of her breast in my hand, the slick taste of her mouth, and the heat of her core burning through the jeans covering my thigh. I quickly adjust myself but not fast enough. Lissie catches me as she hangs up and turns around.
“Meat lovers okay?” she asks, a sparkle in her eyes.
I burst out laughing. A sound I barely recognize anymore. Her soft chuckle joins me.
“You’re laughing at me,” I admonish her.
“Seemed like a good way to break the tension,” she tosses over her shoulder, as she moves to sit on the loveseat.
It’s very tempting to sit down next to her, but I’m not so sure that would be wise. The likelihood we’ll end up horizontal is great and we have pizza on the way. So instead I pull over a stool and sit on that.
“Keeping your distance?”
“You don’t mince words, do you?” I return immediately.
Lissie shrugs. “What’s the point?”
“I find it difficult to control myself around you,” I admit. “Makes me uneasy not to be in control.”
I watch for her reaction, but she doesn’t seem offended, just thoughtful.
“Makes sense,” she mutters before tilting her head slightly. “Is that why you got so mad? Back at the clubhouse?”
“That was about trust.” When she frowns slightly I try to explain. “In an MC, trust is what ties the brothers together. Fuck, it’s what makes the club.”
“Okay, so it’s about you not trusting Ouray? Or because you think he doesn’t trust you?”
I grunt, uncomfortable she reads me so easy. It hurts my brothers would think so little of me they cut me out of club business; feels like being cut off from the club altogether.
Luckily the doorbell rings, announcing the arrival of the pizza and I beat Lissie to the front door, pulling my money clip from my pocket before she can fish her credit card from her purse. It earns me a dirty look