Own the Wind (16 page)

That response was even better.

“Do you wanna know why it’s you?” I asked quietly, my hand gliding up his arm to his chest.

“Don’t wanna piss you off, Tab, but I don’t give a fuck. I’m happy just rejoicin’ that it is.”

Another good answer.

“Now,” he continued, “you get that I’m pretty fuckin’ sure and my guess is, you’re here in my bed, my tee, and my arms, you’re pretty fuckin’ sure. So are we good?”

“Mostly,” I answered and his head tipped to the side.

“Mostly?” he prompted when I didn’t explain.

“Well, I didn’t get the work thing entirely sorted. I have a feeling they’ll let me renege on the contract since I told them I had a family emergency, but if I renege that means I don’t have a job.”

“Can you get your old one back?” he asked.

I shook my head. “They weren’t happy to see me go and they told me when I got back from Cape Cod, if I wanted to come back and they had an opening, they’d see what they could do, but I don’t wanna go back there, Shy. Since you and me, uh… had our thing, Dr. Dickhead got worse and began to target me. He used to spread his dickheadedness wide, but when I became his focus, I decided I couldn’t deal.”

“You talk to the administrators?”

“No, Shy and, darlin’ ”—I kept going quickly, because I knew by the change in his expression and the muscle that ticked in his jaw what he was going to say—“you don’t get how it works in that world, but doctors are king. I could get embroiled in a big drama but in the end it would be a lot of headache, time, and stress, and either I’d have to suck it up and carry on or I’d have to get out and move on. It’s just the way it is.”

“Lucky for you I don’t live in that world,” Shy replied and my belly lurched.

Uh-oh. I knew what that meant, and what that meant was that it was damage control time.

“Shy, you don’t and I don’t but I
do
have to exist in it for eight-hour shifts, five days a week.”

He leaned a bit away from me and declared casually, “No blowback.”

Great.

The guys said that word all the time and then things would happen, like a few years ago when Tyra got kidnapped and stabbed, like, a gazillion times. Granted, that huge drama wasn’t Dad’s fault. It happened because Tyra’s best friend Lanie’s messed-up fiancé was, well… totally freaking messed up. So messed up, he got both Tyra and Lanie dragged into it. Still, Dad also got in the mix, and no one had given me the full briefing but however it went down pissed my big brother Rush off so much he refused to approach the Club to become a recruit. This gave me the sense that Dad’s involvement upped Tyra’s vulnerability. She survived and she was a fighter, so she didn’t let what happened drag her down, not even a little bit.

But still.

“Shy, I don’t want you to get involved,” I told him.

“And Tabby”—his face dipped close—“you showed up at my door and, unlike other women, you get the life so it’s gonna come as no surprise to you when I say, I hear you, baby, but I’m still getting involved.”

There it was and it came fast.

I had to do the balancing act.

“Shy, seriously,” I said softly, pressing my fingers into his chest for emphasis, “I don’t have a good feeling about this.”

“I do it right, Tab, you won’t feel anything at all, and mark me, honey, I’ll do it right.”

Fabulous.

I stared at him and it came to me.

Talk to Tyra.

I might have lived in the biker world all my life, but until I was sixteen and she disappeared, my mom was my biker-babe mentor and she was no good at it.

Tyra was the
master
.

I’d talk to her.

That was, I’d talk to Tyra about managing Shy after I talked to Tyra about how it was a good idea I was with Shy and then waited for her to get over the fact I was with Shy and believe in us (or pretend she did until she really believed in us),
then
I’d talk to Tyra about Shy rocking my employment world.

Hopefully, she’d get over the Shy-and-I-being-an-us thing fast, because I had a feeling from the look in his eyes, Shy wasn’t going to dawdle.

“You with me?” he asked, and I wasn’t.

Still, I said, “Kind of, but can I reserve the right to discuss this with you later, at a time when I haven’t just become part of an us with a hot biker guy and brother to my father and a bunch of men who are family to me?”

He grinned and muttered, “Yeah you can reserve that right.”

At least there was that.

Then his hand moved from the side of my head down to my chest and kept drifting further down when he continued, “Though, I reserve the right to repeat that I’m still gettin’ involved.”

Wonderful.

“Shy—”

“Talk over, Tabby, we got things to do.”

I blinked and asked, “We do?”

“We totally fuckin’ do,” he answered.

“What things?”

He didn’t answer.

He dropped his torso to mine just as his hand curved around my breast and his lips hit my lips.

Then we did the things we had to do which, to spell it out, was take a few trips to paradise.

I heard the knock on the door and I slowly opened my eyes.

It was morning, I could see the sun shining into Shy’s apartment and I was in his bed.

More precisely, I was naked on him in his bed. Chest to chest, my body over his, my cheek to his shoulder, my hips off to the side, my leg crooked, knee resting against his thigh, his arm curled around my waist at an angle so his hand could cup my behind.

This position, surprisingly, felt supercomfortable and
very
nice, but I had no idea how he could sleep like that without being crushed or at the very least being able to breathe.

I also had no idea how
I
could sleep like that, seeing as I was naked and I could feel the sheet pulled up to just below my bottom, but mostly I had it all hanging out.

In my groggy, waking-up mind, memories of the day before hit me, and I had the feeling I knew how I could sleep like that and he could too.

I rarely slept naked, but that didn’t mean it didn’t happen. Sometimes, when Jason and I went out on the town and I came back tipsy, we’d have wild monkey sex, this would go on for a while, and then I’d pass out naked.

Normally, if having sex was the last thing we did before going to sleep, after we did the deed, he gave me the hug-and-roll, I slid out of bed, cleaned up, and pulled on panties and a nightie before I hit the sack for good.

This was all the experience I had.

Jason was number two in my not-so-long list of lovers. I gave it away to my high school boyfriend when I was seventeen. It wasn’t great. It didn’t suck. What sucked was, even though he was way into me and told me it was forever and I liked him enough to give him my virginity (which was to say, a lot), he told his friends he did me and that crap got back to me. This did not fill me with joy, and I dumped him. He was devastated, I didn’t feel all that great about the situation, but I wasn’t going to take that, the looks, the under-the-breath comments, the girls’ bitchiness, all of which he caused by doing something as stupid as bragging.

After him, I dated often enough but I was hung up on Shy, waiting for him to notice me, like guys seemed to notice me often so I didn’t get too involved and never found a guy I was willing to go there with. Then Shy broke my heart and I decided to concentrate on my studies, not guys.

While doing that, I met Jason.

Although the sex I had with Jason was always good because he went to great lengths, lengths I enjoyed, to make it that way, and it could get wild, we had fun, it was nothing like what Shy and I had last night.

I thought I’d had wild monkey sex.

I didn’t know the meaning of it until Shy taught it to me.

He had stamina. He had creativity. And he was so into me, it was unreal. He couldn’t get enough of me, wasn’t shy about me knowing it, and that worked for me since I felt the same for him.

We took only one break, to order a pizza. When it arrived, Shy walked to the bed and tossed the box on it. He moved to the kitchen, grabbed a couple of cold ones from the kitchen, handed one to me, then fell to his side across the foot of the bed, threw open the box and commenced eating.

I joined in, and when we were done, he threw the box on the floor (where, mind you, it still was), grabbed my ankles and hauled me down the bed to him.

I’d never eaten naked.

I’d never done a lot of the things I did with Shy yesterday.

And the best part was, it was natural, it felt right. I never felt funny or apprehensive or wondered if I was doing it right. It was all about him, his hands, mouth, cock, and body, what they made me feel and how much I could get of them, going for it, building it in him, giving it my all to get a low groan or a growl, feeling like I conquered the world when I earned one.

It was beautiful, amazing, all of it. And there was a lot of it.

So it was no wonder I passed out naked on top of Shy.

Another knock came. I felt Shy’s hand tense into the cheek of my bottom, and I was about to lift my head and look at him when his other arm wrapped around me and I stilled. This was because he was holding me gently, rolling me, moving me slowly and carefully, like he didn’t know I was awake and he was making a grave effort not to wake me.

Sweet.

Very sweet.

“I’m awake, darlin’,” I said softly right before he placed me on my back.

His head came up, my eyes hit his sleepy ones, and my heart tripped.

God, seriously, even sleepy-eyed, he was amazing.

Those sleepy eyes moved over my face as his hand came up, cupping the side of my head. His thumb slid along my hairline, his eyes came to mine and he gave me the best good morning ever.

“You,” he whispered, “in my bed.”

My lungs compressed but in a good way.

“Yeah,” I whispered back. “With you.”

His eyes went lazy, dropped to my mouth then his lips dropped there.

We touched tongues when another knock came at the door and this time it didn’t stop.

Shy’s head came up and he growled, “Fuckin’, fuck me.”

I grinned up at him. He scowled down at me then kissed the underside of my jaw before he rolled over me and off the bed.

I pulled the sheet up to my neck and rolled to my side, watching the show that was Shy tugging on a pair of jeans.

He looked out the peephole and I watched, captivated by what I saw at the same time bracing as I watched every inch of his body go still.

Then he moved quickly. Unlocking the door, he threw it open and let out a man howl that shook the windows.

This shocked me so much, I sat up in bed. Holding the sheet to my front, I watched Shy lunge at whoever was outside. He then backed inside, his body now arched way back because he was carrying a grown man wearing fatigues
with
his stuffed-full Army drab duffel at a slant on his back.

Shy bounced the guy a few times as the guy slapped Shy’s bare back in a way it appeared he hadn’t noticed Shy’s back was bare. Then Shy dropped him on his feet, they jumped apart and looked at each other grinning hugely. They jumped back together and there was more man hugging and back pounds.

I took a wild mental stab and decided this was Landon Cage, Shy’s brother, home from deployment.

I was thrilled for Shy, and he was clearly thrilled to have his brother back.

What I was not was comfortable being naked in a bed in the same room as a family reunion.

“Fuck, good to see you man, shit, you surprised me,” I heard Shy say as I started sliding toward the edge of the bed, yanking the sheet with me.

“A fuckin’ peephole,” Landon replied, pulling away, they kept hands on shoulders and hands clasped between them as they looked at each other and Landon finished, “Was gonna get the drop on you finally. Kick your ass.”

“How many times I gotta prove that shit to you? It’s not gonna happen,” Shy returned.

I made it to the edge of the bed and saw none of the clothes, Shy or mine, were within reaching distance.

Crap.

I looked back at the brothers, noting vaguely they didn’t look a lot alike. Shy’s hair was two shades down from black. Landon’s hair was about three shades up from light brown and, obviously, cut in a military cut, not long and curling around his neck like Shy’s. Shy had amazing, green eyes. Landon’s eyes were a warm, dark brown. They were the same height, but whereas Shy’s frame was tall with lean, defined muscle, it looked like Landon had maybe thirty pounds on him, all of it muscle, but I couldn’t tell for certain under those fatigues.

I took this all in as I considered my dilemma and wondered if I could make an escape to the bathroom with an armful of clothes without being noticed.

Both men’s eyes came to me.

Wonderful.

Well, escape was out.

Shy smiled big, sauntered my way and, in typical Shy fashion, didn’t hesitate one moment in putting me where he wanted me to be.

In this instance, he hauled me out of bed, tucked my front to his side and shuffled me his brother’s way, saying, “Fuckin’ thrilled I get to do this. Tab, meet my brother, Landon. And Lan, meet my girl, Tabitha Allen.”

Lan was smiling down at me. I was smiling tentatively up at him at the same time frantically tucking the sheet around me.

The problem was, the instant Shy said my name, something passed through Lan’s eyes and the clearly genuine smile he had on his mouth turned straight-out fake.

Uh-oh.

Shy had been talking about me, and it didn’t appear that whatever he’d said was good.

Putting a courteous face on, he stuck his hand out and muttered, “Cool to meet you, Tabitha.”

“Tab, Tabby, uh… whatever you wanna call me. People call me both,” I stammered, taking his hand and concentrating on giving it a warm squeeze.

He gave me a squeeze back and quickly let me go.

“This is good. Now I get to take my girl and my brother out for coffee,” Shy announced and my body froze solid as his eyes hit Lan. “Tex will wanna see you’re back, brother.”

“Is he still a whackjob?” Lan asked.

“Tex is Tex, not sure there’s another way he can be,” Shy answered, still grinning, still badass biker elated and relieved his brother was home in one piece.