“Your girl...” Viper’s voice is loud with disbelief. “So you’re together?”
“No,” I reply. I like Axle, but I just got out of a relationship and I don’t know if Axle could commit.
Axle clicks his tongue. “Not yet,” he says, then gives me a wink.
Axle’s charm... his humor... his looks... deadly combination. He’s trouble with a capitalT. It both scares and excites me.
As we pass by the couple, Candy says, “Good night.”
I pick up on Viper muttering something about money as we walk by. Axle kisses my temple, looks over his shoulder, and says, “Yeah, you will.”
As we leave the kitchen by the opposite door, we pass by a wall decorated with mug shots. I try to look at them, but Axle pulls me closer, encouraging me to walk faster. But then I spot Axle’s photo. Even in the picture there’s a smugness in his eyes and the slight tilt of his lips.
“Why is your mug shot on the wall? What did you do?”
He lowers his head. “Nothing. Stress less, babe. Keep walking.”
As we make our way up the staircase, I gaze down at everyone. Being here is like being in another universe, though I’m not sure what I expected. I spot the motorcycle recessed into the wall again. I shift my eyes to Axle. “Why do you have a motorcycle inside the clubhouse?” It makes no sense.
His shoulders tense and he falls silent. When we reach the top of the stairs, he says, “It was Victor’s.”
The solemnity of his reply startles me. In a rare moment of vulnerability, his face softens and a frown tugs at his lips. Guilt hits me.
We walk to the end of a hall that’s lined with bedroom doors, most of them closed. As he opens one, I say, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.”
He ushers me into the room, closes the door, and gives me a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “No need to say sorry.”
His answer doesn’t ease my guilt. He might be all smiles, but when it comes to losing his father figure, he can’t mask the hurt in his eyes.
I look around. His room has a navy-blue feature wall. Against it stands his black bed frame, and his bed is made with black bedding. Another War Brothers MC flag hangs on the wall opposite the bed.
Axle is observing me closely. He slips off his leather vest and sets it down on the cabinet below the TV.
My breathing is erratic as he walks toward me. “I’m not having sex with you,” I say again, not quite sure who I’m trying to convince at this point.
He laughs. “I know,” he says, then grabs his chest as if someone shot him. “No need to keep reminding me, you’re going to hurt my feelings.”
I scoff. “I highly doubt that.”
He fights a smile and sits down. He pulls off his boots, then shuffles over and lies down on his side. I admire his face. That square jaw... those full lips. It’s criminal how attractive he is.
He pats the bed beside him. I give him a cautious stare.
“I’m not going to have sex with you,” he says, his grin mischievous as he throws my words back at me in the same tone I use. “Unless you want me to,” he purrs.
I struggle to hide my smile, but I stay standing. His bed looks daunting... lying down... next to him. After that kiss we shared, I question my self-control. He’s watching me, but he’s not forcing the issue, so I take a deep breath, though my heart is pounding, and slowly sit, then lie beside him. My breath catches in my throat when he shuffles over, closing the space between us. A blend of anticipation and nervousness ripples through me.
“You’re too trusting.”
I become rigid and try to sit up, but he pulls me back down.
“You came back to the clubhouse with me... you’re in my bedroom. I wouldn’t do anything if you didn’t want to, but if I was someone different, you could have put yourself in a bad situation.”
I turn away and stare at the wall. Am I so desperate for attention and a friendship or connection with someone that I’d trust so blindly?
Axle grasps my chin and turns my face toward his until our eyes meet. “What are you thinking about?”
“Everything is new to me...” I never had the chance to make poor choices. I surrounded myself with like-minded friends and a like-minded boyfriend. We were the quiet, studious group that did well at school and kept to ourselves. “I’ve never had reason not to trust someone.”
