Los Perdidos: The Novel (Sons of Glory Motorcycle Club Romance) (7 page)

My last class of the day was a sociology class that I normally found very interesting, but that day my mind was such a swirl of emotions that I had trouble concentrating on what the professor was saying. After class, I headed to the dining hall by myself for dinner. On any other day, I would have texted either Dana or Kara to join me, but I wasn’t in the mood to hear any more well-meaning expressions of concern about Smoke and me. I ate quickly, barely tasting my food, and went back to the student union to study instead of going to my room like I generally would have. At around eight o’clock, I headed back to the dorm to drop my things and get ready for Smoke to pick me up. When I got to the room, Kara was there, studying calculus on her bed. She looked up at me and smiled, but I could tell by the tension in her face that she had been talking to Dana about what had happened earlier.

“Hi,” she said, a little timidly.

“Hi,” I replied, and set my stuff down on my desk. I pulled open my closet door and peered at my clothes, trying to figure out what I was going to wear to the bar.

“If you want to borrow something to wear, that’s fine,” Kara offered.

“Thanks,” I replied.

“Are you going to the biker bar again?” she asked, though I could tell she already knew the answer.

“Yup,” I said, with what I hoped was a note of finality in my voice. “I am.”

It was weird. There was something in the air between us. It felt almost as though Kara was scared of me. Neither of us spoke as I chose my clothing. As the seconds passed, the tension in the room seemed to grow thicker. I realized that I was the only one who could make it better. Sighing slightly, I looked at Kara and smiled my most normal smile. “Actually, could I borrow that leather jacket I wore the other night?”

“Sure,” she smiled, looking relieved, and motioned to her closet door. “Help yourself.” I could feel the tension dissipate a little, but I knew better than to think everything was fine.

“Look, Kara,” I began as I got dressed. “I know you and Dana have been talking about me. I get it. I don’t expect you guys to understand why I’m seeing Smoke. And I appreciate your concern. But it isn’t going to change my mind.”

“Okay,” she responded quietly. “But… You know that Dana and I are just worried about you, right?” Her tone was pleading.

I turned to my kind, innocent friend. “Yes, I know that. And thank you. I know your heart is in the right place.” My voice softened. “But honestly, Kara, Seth was more of a cause for concern than Smoke. I know you don’t believe me. But you’ll just have to trust me.”

As we looked at one another, I felt at that moment something that had never happened to me before: an almost physical sense of my path diverging from someone else’s. I knew, deep down, that I was making a choice about my life that would take me in a direction I could only barely glimpse from where I stood now. It made me sad, in a way. But I also knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that I had already made my decision about Smoke. For better or worse, I was going to keep seeing him.

I dressed in a pair of tight jeans that I knew showed off my ass and legs, and a black bustier top that I had only had the guts to wear once before. I slipped on my high heeled ankle boots and brushed out my hair so that it cascaded down my shoulders in long auburn waves. Sitting on the bed, I applied eye liner, mascara, lipstick. Then I went to Kara’s closet and pulled out the jacket. I shrugged it on, and turned to look at myself in her full-length mirror. Just as I was doing so, my phone buzzed: Smoke.

Im here

“I gotta go,” I said to Kara.
Down in a sec
, I texted him back, then slipped my phone in the pocket of her jacket.

“Don’t wait up, okay?” I smiled. “And don’t worry about me.”

“I won’t,” she replied, but her eyes told me she was lying.

Outside, Smoke was sitting on his bike waiting for me. His mouth broke into a wide grin as he saw me emerge from the building. I slowed down and took a moment to admire his impressive physique. He was wearing a plain white T-shirt under his cut, his muscular arms bulging from the sleeves. I admired the outline of his strong thighs through his jeans. Jesus God, he was incredibly hot. My stomach did a happy little flip-flop as I remembered how it felt to have his large, masculine hands on me.

“I’ve missed you,” he growled when I got to him. He stood, and his arm went around me, his lips coming down on mine. He kissed me passionately, his tongue possessing my mouth completely. I leaned into his embrace and returned his kiss eagerly. Before long, that familiar, delicious hardness was pushing against me, making me wet and tingly between my legs. I lost myself completely in the exhilarating nearness of him, and my brain began sending signals to my body, demanding more. I pressed my body against him, and ground my hips slightly as my body communicated with his. With a groan, he let me go, leaving me dizzy and flustered. “You’re gonna push me past the point of no return if you’re not careful,” he murmured, his voice thick with need.

“That’s the idea,” I whispered into is neck.

Aware that people had slowed down to look at us, I stepped away from Smoke and tried to slow my hammering heart. Without a word, I hopped on the back of the bike and put my helmet on. When I had fastened it tightly over my head, I wrapped my arms around Smoke’s leather cut. “Ready,” I murmured, and he put the bike into gear. We sped away toward the Black Dog, the engine’s vibrations teasing my tingling sex all the way.

For a Monday, the bar was hopping. Though it was only my second time being there at night, I could already begin to make out a difference between the customers in front and the people in the back. It was clear to me that the majority of the club members spent most of their time in the back, while the front filled up with a mixture of weekend warriors, the curious, and the occasional college student. I blushed to remember that only a few days before, I had been one of those students, coming in here like a tourist to get a glimpse of life on the dark side.

As I followed Smoke toward the back of the bar, a few heads turned to look at us. Some wore an expression of recognition when they saw me. One or two of the women even nodded. “I gotta go back to the clubhouse and talk to Ram,” Smoke said to me. “Why don’t you come back for a sec, I’ll show you around.”

Smoke led me through the hallway with the offices. As we passed through, I glanced at the closed door that led to the office where he had first taken me. An electric jolt of desire flashed through me at the memory. We continued on to the end of the hallway, and came out into a large space that I hadn’t known existed before now. Couches and easy chairs were arranged in the middle, and a bar that resembled the one out front was off to the left. I saw an open door to the right, leading to another room. Ram was seated inside that room at a large table. “So, this is our space. Private. If I were you, I wouldn’t come back here unless you’re with me, at least for now.” Smoke turned and pressed me to him. I melted against his body, turning my face up toward his. His mouth devoured mine, and I moaned and clutched at him. “You go on back to the bar and order yourself a drink,” he said hoarsely. “Tell the bartender you’re with me. I’ll be out in a few minutes.”

Smoke released me, and I nodded and walked back down the hall to the main area. I went up to the bar, and hesitated to order. My usual rum and coke sounded so… girly. I decided to ask for a beer, and told the bartender I was with Smoke. He pulled my drink and set it in front of me, then walked away to help the next patron. I guessed that being with Smoke meant that my drink was on the house.

I turned and leaned back against the bar, my elbows resting on the surface. I should have felt awkward, standing there by myself, but honestly, it didn’t bother me. I looked around and noticed Rosie in the back, watching some guys play pool. She met my gaze and sauntered over, hobbling a little in black stiletto heels and a red leather skirt.

“Hey, girl, you’re back for more,” she greeted me, clinking her glass against my bottle. I smiled at her. “Hi, Rosie. Good to see you again.”

“Come on over. I’ll introduce you around.” I followed Rosie as she tottered toward the pool table where a group of men were playing. A few of the men looked up from their conversations as they saw her approach. “Hey, everybody, this is Flame. She’s with Smoke. This here’s Gangrene,” she said, pointing toward a heavily tattooed man with a pool cue in his hand. “That’s Spider over there.” A bald man nodded at me. “That’s the prospect,” she said. A young guy, who couldn’t be more than twenty, gave me a slight smile as he took a drag of his cigarette. “That’s Jimmy.” A forty-something guy with a shock of wild red hair and a beard. “And that’s Snake.” A huge guy who looked to be in his late twenties to early thirties, built of solid muscle. A bottle-blond woman with huge tits was wrapped around him like a serpent. She looked at me with open suspicion verging on hostility. Rosie ignored her.

We continued over to a bank of booths, where a small group of women sat together, all dressed in various types of denim and leather. “This over here is Roxy,” she said, leading me to a middle-aged woman with lustrous brown hair, whom I remembered meeting the first night with Smoke. The woman had a half-full glass of amber liquid – whiskey, I assumed -- in front of her, and she sat in one of the booths with a couple of younger women. “She’s Ram’s old lady.”

“But Ram’s your dad, right?” I asked, frowning. “So this is…”

“My mom. Yeah,” she said with a grin. “This here’s Flame,” she said to the older woman.

“We’ve met,” Roxy said drily. “You here just for the evening, or you plan to be a permanent fixture around here?”

I didn’t know how to answer. “Not just for the evening,” I said evenly. “We’ll see about the rest.”

Roxy nodded once, and then turned back to her girlfriends. “Come on,” Rosie said. “I need another drink.” She led me back to the bar and flagged down the bartender for a beer. “So, how’s it going with Smoke?” she asked. Her tone turned girlish as she said this, and the exchange was so close to one I might have had with Dana or Kara that I almost laughed. “It’s going good, I think,” I replied, giving her a grin. “I really like him.”

“What’s he like in bed?” she asked frankly, a wicked gleam in her eye.

“Uh…” I blushed. Part of me shied away from talking about Smoke with a near stranger, but her friendliness broke down my defenses a little. Leaning in toward her, I said conspiratorially: “Un-freaking-believable!”

Rosie’s jaw dropped, and then her face spread into a huge grin. She whooped with laughter: “Jesus Christ, I knew it! That man is sex on wheels! You lucky bitch!”

“I know!” I grinned back. And as I said it, I realized it was true. Despite the fact that my best friends were worried sick about me, I did feel lucky. I liked how I felt when I was around Smoke. I felt stronger, more assertive. More alive. I felt less like boring, mousy old Jen, and more like Flame.

I opened my mouth to say more, but as I did, I watched as Rosie’s eyes fixed on a point behind me and widened in shock. “Oh, shit!” she hissed. “This is not good.”

I turned in the direction of her gaze, and saw that a tall, bottle-blond bombshell had walked into the bar. She was dressed in tight leather pants and a cut off T-shirt that left almost nothing to the imagination. The way she sauntered up to the bar, it was clear that she’d been here before, but her defiant expression showed that she was expecting some trouble.

“Who’s that?” I asked Rosie.

“That’s Liana,” she murmured back. “Smoke’s ex.”