“Would it have mattered?” she asked before tossing her hair and walking away.
Fuck yeah it would have mattered.
Quinn was Ripped’s old lady.
The woman he wanted to make his wife.
The woman he had been talking to me about only that morning. She’d been turning him down so far, unsure of what she wanted or some shit. And she was also the sexiest woman I’d ever seen. A woman I’d met that afternoon and hadn’t stopped thinking about since.
Quinn belonged to Ripped. A brother. A friend. The feared president of the Burning Eights. And yet none of that seemed important right then. The only thing that kept on going through my head was her name. Her smile. And the electricity that had fizzed between us when her skin had touched mine.
Quinn couldn’t ever be mine, and yet I wanted her more than anything I’d ever wanted before.
~ 5 ~
I was sitting on the big corner sofa in the center of the clubhouse, slowly nursing my beer and wondering what I’d ever done to deserve that kind of misery. How could I find and lose the woman of my dreams all in the same day? I’d never believed in fate before. Never believed in monogamy. Fuck, I’d never wanted it. Not until that day. And maybe what was bothering me most was that Icouldn’thave her. That I didn’t have a choice in the matter.
I was a man that was used to getting his own way, all the time. I wanted something, I took it. I wanted someone, I took them. I’d decided long ago that no one would ever hold me back from what I wanted, and I’d held that rule through my life so far. Yet there I was, pining after a woman that belonged to another brother. A woman I’d only had one conversation with and hadn’t been able to stop thinking about since. And a brother I respected.
The situation was seriously fucked up.
Clearly I needed to get laid by someone other than her before I lost my damn mind.
Quinn was perched on Ripped’s lap on the opposite side of the sofa. Her gaze had barely left him since they’d come out of one of the bedrooms earlier. His hand was running up and down her thigh, tracing lazy circles over the smooth skin. Skin I wanted to bite and nip, brand with my own type of fucking. Skin I’d never ever be able to taste.
We’d all been inside drinking and getting high since the brothers had come back from the Pit. The party was still in full swing, but the Burning Eights were completed wasted and ready to pass out. Dumb fuckers. I hated them all right then. Especially Ripped.
“Gracie, you still with that uptight prick Richard?” Gauge asked, his dark gaze on her tight body. From what I could tell, Gracie had used to be a sweetbutt for the club until she’d met her now-husband Richard, got herself knocked up, and married him before the baby was even born.
“Sure am, baby,” she replied. Her little shit monster was currently asleep in her car seat next to her, her thumb stuck firmly in her fat little mouth. Kid was actually pretty cute, there was no denying it. Probably going to end up fucked in the head, though, with a mother like Gracie.
“Damn shame,” Gauge replied, slouching back on the sofa and swigging his beer, his eyes poring over her body. He ran his hand over his dark beard, his gaze staying on her.
Gracie smiled and put down her bottle of beer before standing up and walking toward Gauge on high heels, her long, manicured nails tapping on her hips. “And why’s that, Gauge?” she said, her eyes firmly on her prize.
Gauge grinned and put down his own beer before standing up. “We used to have some real good times, from what I remember.” He ran the back of his hand down her arm. “Was hoping to reminisce a little if you’re up for it.”
Gracie placed both hands on Gauge’s chest and he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her up his body in one swift movement. She wrapped her legs around his waist and their mouths connected in a sloppy, drunken kiss. Gauge’s hands moved to her ass and he squeezed it hard as he started walking them across the clubhouse toward one of the bedrooms to the chorus of cheers and whoops from the brothers.
I looked away, my gaze skitting over to Quinn to find her looking at me, her blue eyes drinking me in like I was air and she was desperate to fill her lungs with me. My cock twitched like the little pervert it was.
One of the sweetbutts—a new girl named Emma or Emmie or something—came over with some glasses and a bottle of whiskey, placing it all on the table in front of the sofa. All eyes were on her as she bent over in her tiny skirt and began pouring large shots into the glasses. She wiggled her ass and grinned, leaving no doubt that she was loving the feel of all of our eyes on her.
“That Gracie is still a slut,” Ripped laughed. He grabbed Quinn’s chin and tilted it back to give him access to her beautiful neck. He ran the tip of his tongue along it, placing soft kisses every now and then.
“She’s not,” Quinn replied. “Richard barely touches her anymore. We think he’s fucking his secretary or something. He’s always working away since Bonny was born.”
“He’s a lawyer or something, right?” Ripped asked, though he didn’t look interested.
“Yeah, big time now that his firm’s been taken over. Making more money than either of them can spend.” She pushed at Ripped’s chest gently.
“Bet she sure as shit enjoys trying to though, right?” Lincoln laughed. Lincoln was the VP of the Burning Eights, and a good friend of Gauge’s.
Quinn rolled her eyes and tore her face away from Ripped’s greedy mouth to glare at Lincoln. “Actually, he’s worse than her. Always buying things that he doesn’t need. Last time I went by they had boxes and boxes of stuff in the hallway that he’d ordered and hadn’t even bothered to open.”
“Sounds like someone has a problem.” Lincoln smirked. “Whaddya think, Battle?”
All eyes turned to me and I shrugged, the scowl still on my face. Fighter frowned at me from his seat, but I chose to ignore his concern.
