Skirt (Ruthless Kings MC #5) - K.L. Savage Page 0,54
we drive down the road. I’m tracing the patch on Skirt’s cut, outlining his name with my finger. His lips find my forehead, and I close my eyes, relishing in a touch so soft, simple, and tender.
He’s an enigma, leather and brass on the outside, warm and gentle on the inside. I get to experience all of it.
All too soon we stop and Skirt unwraps his arms around me, leaving me cold and with worry.
“Ah, so glad all of you arrived.”
It’s a voice I don’t recognize. I meet the man’s curious gaze as he stares at me, and he holds out his hand. I go to shake his, and he tilts my hand over and brings my knuckles to his lips. “Why, who is this beauty? She is magnificent. I am Maximo, beautiful. Who are you?”
“She’s mine,” Skirt steps in front of Maximo, blocking the Italian’s hungry eyes.
“Oh, she is Dawson?” The edge of excitement is hard to miss as his voice raises. He looks around Skirt’s shoulder. “You are famous, beautiful. I have longed to meet the woman who has a man bleeding his knuckles for. And you are worth it, aren’t you?”
I jerk my hand away and lay it in the middle of Skirt’s back, rubbing my hand over the buttery leather of his vest. The bottomless orbs of the skull embroidered in the back of his cut stare at me, reminding me of the deep void leveled in my chest.
“She’s worth it all. I’ll fight, Maximo, but she’s mine. My property. My woman. Ye fuck with her, ye fuck with me, and I will kill ye. Do I make myself clear?”
Hearing Skirt’s claim has a rush of lust replacing every blood cell in my veins, and the only liquid my heart is pumping is desire. I’ve never had a man claim me so openly before. Skirt’s body shakes with waves of rage. His fists clench, and I can tell he’s seconds away from punching Maximo in the face. I rub his back in soothing circles, hoping my touch relaxes him, and his shoulders sag from my attempt.
It’s working.
“I see. I am sorry to step on any boundaries. She is yours. I understand. You’re a lucky man, and that Cohen is a fucking fool. I hope he comes tonight.”
“I don’t,” Skirt admits and holds out his hand to help me out of the truck. “I don’t want Dawn anywhere near that fucking arsehole.”
I keep my lips shut and walk hand in hand with Skirt toward the hotel/casino. It looks nice, in repairs with its new hedges along the front entrance and automatic swiveling door as people enter and exit. I clutch onto Skirt’s arm as we slither through the maze of people gambling and laughing. The song of slot machines ring, and someone screams with joy as they win the jackpot.
Maybe when life calms down, I’ll be able to gamble and enjoy a night out like this.
“After you,” Maximo holds out his arm and winks his chocolate eye at me.
I flush, and Skirt sneers at Maximo and tugs me close to his chest, pulling me against the front of his body as we find ourselves on the elevator. Maximo hides his mischievous smirk under a broad palm and swipes a card to the basement after all the MC brothers climb on the elevator.
“I hope this elevator holds the weight of all of you. You aren’t exactly small,” Maximo teases. A blinking red light catches my attention under the B button. Red is never a good color. It says, ‘danger’ and ‘beware.’ The elevator slides down, dinging until it passes the B level, then it comes to a sudden stop, the white light on the button turning red to signal our arrival to Hell.
I assume that’s what this place is.
Once the silver doors slide open, I know I’m right. Red seems to be the theme for the night. A light hangs above the cage, burning bright red, the color of hot flames and blood. As we walk down the aisle, the ground itself is dirt and the crowd is shaking the fence blocking them off from us, screaming and shouting, roaring for the fight to start.
The fence reminds me of lace, a barely secure barrier made to block the true object of obsession, and to tease the mind to want more.
Skirt shrugs off his cut and slips off his shirt, and hands them to me. I clutch them to my chest, inhaling his scent of sweat and leather. I’ve