Wanted: Devil Dogs MC (8 page)

Boneless, she drifts back to earth and opens her eyes to see Wes watching her intensely. She wants to make him feel as out of control as she does. She wants him to unravel inside of her just as she has done around him. She smiles coquettishly and catching him off guard, she bucks her hips and flips him over so she’s now straddling him as he lies back on the bed. His hands are on her hips where they’re still joined.

“So someone likes to be on top. I’ll remember that.” His eyes glint with amusement but his voice tells her he’s wound as tightly as she is.

In reply she lifts her hips, sliding up and down on his cock and watching as his eyes fill with heat and he grits his teeth together. She throws her head back, exulting in the feeling of having this gorgeous man completely at her mercy. But as he reaches between them, finding the sweet spot between her legs, flicking the nub so deliciously, she knows she’s just as much at his mercy as he is at hers – perhaps even more so.

“Wes, come with me. Please.”

The plea on her lips is all he needs to hear. With a growl, he flips her over onto her back again, shattering the illusion that she had actually been able to overpower him. He thrusts into her again and again, licking and sucking at her nipples, first one and then the other, building the heat inside of her until she feels like she might explode.

“Make it loud, Bel. I wanna hear you.” His order comes out breathlessly, as he struggles to hold on for those final moments, until he’s sure she’s close.

His words coupled with his deep thrusts inside of her are enough to send her over the edge. She cries out his name as her whole body is rocked with ecstasy, his growl of release joining her as he reaches his shuddering end.

Their eyes connect and they both know something has shifted. Isabel feels her eyes widen and she catches a similar realization in Wes’s dark eyes. This wasn’t just sex. He dips his head down and brushes a soft kiss over her mouth, a tender, gentle kiss that, for some unknown reason, makes her feel like she might be about to cry. Conscious that his weight is probably making it difficult for her to breathe, he moves onto his side, maneuvering her so her back is to him and they’re spooning, his arm draped over her waist.

Neither says a word, but the air is charged with things that are left unsaid. She pushes the thought away, trying to focus on the luxurious feeling of being completely satisfied, sated even. Her breath becomes deep and even, feeling more relaxed than she has in a long time, possibly ever. But just before sleep overtakes her, she can’t avoid the sense that everything is about to change for her again and she’s not sure if she’s going to be ready for it.

Consciousness slowly returns and with it, the realization that Isabel is alone in the bed. She reaches her hand out, but the warm body she had been sleeping beside, the warm body that had been entwined with hers for much of the night is no longer there. A noise alerts her to the fact that she’s not alone in the room and she turns to see Wesley, fully dressed and pulling on his biker boots.

“Where are you going?” Her voice is husky from sleep, but there’s something else in it, too, a vulnerability she’d promised she would never display, not for any man. Seeing him, hurrying to leave her after the night they had spent together makes her chest tighten.

Wesley looks up from his task. She wonders if it’s her imagination or if he doesn’t look a little guilty, like he’s been caught doing something wrong, like sneaking out after a night of mind-blowing sex. “I didn’t want to wake you.” His response doesn’t really do anything to put Isabel’s mind at ease or to make her feel like less of an afterthought.

“You mean you didn’t want to wake me before you could make your escape, is that it?” She gathers the sheets closer around her, suddenly very aware of the fact that she’s naked whereas he is fully clothed.

Wesley shakes his head, looking at her with something like pain in his eyes. “It’s not like that.”

“So tell me what it
is
like, then, Wes.” She looks at him imploringly. “Tell me something.” At this point she knows she will be content with anything at all, or at least that’s what she tells herself.

He sighs heavily, looking up at the ceiling as if he’ll find some help there. “You don’t know anything about me, Isabel. I’m no good for you.”

Drawing the sheet even closer around her to stave off the icy thread of fear that has radiated down her back at his words, she shakes her head. “I don’t believe that.”

Wesley laughs and it’s not the easy, warm laugh that makes her insides flip over. It’s a cruel laugh, one that chills her to the bone. “Come on, Isabel. You saw me come back here last night, all bloody and bruised. I’m guessing you know I’m not an insurance salesman!”

She feels herself bristle at the implication. “No, Wes, I’m not naïve. I’d figured that much out already. And I know enough not to ask.” She sighs heavily. “I suppose I hoped you’d tell me in your own time, when you trusted me enough.” She laughs bitterly. “But I guess today is not that day.”

She casts around on the floor by the bed until she finds her nightdress where they had discarded it in a fit of passion only a few hours earlier. She pulls it over her head, feeling a little more in control now that she’s not naked. Isabel was usually the one to sneak out in the earlier hours of the morning; she’d never been the one left behind and the truth is that it sucks. Knowing that what she had shared with Wes had been of so little importance to him that he doesn’t even want to face her is painful as all hell. His embarrassment at having spent the night with her is worse than his indifference could ever have been.

“Look, this is your room. You shouldn’t be the one who leaves. I’ll go.” She grabs her Dallas sweatshirt from the floor and stands, giving him a wide berth as she heads towards the door.

“Isabel, stop!” His hand reaches out and takes hold of her wrist. His grip isn’t hard but it’s firm.

She looks down at his strong hand on her arm. “What, Wes? Do you even know what you want to say to me?” She looks up into his brown eyes and sees he’s as conflicted as she had feared.

“I know I don’t want you to go, not like this.”

The certainty in his voice is the one thing that stops Isabel from shaking him off and marching to the door. “You were the one who was ready to sneak out while I was asleep, Wes, not me.” She forces him to meet her gaze. “What are you so scared of?”

“You.” The simplicity of his answer knocks the breath out of her.

“Me?” She smiles at him, wryly. “I’m not all that scary. You know I don’t bite, at least not hard.”

His expression softens and she watches the heat reach his eyes as he no doubt thinks about the night they just spent in his bed. She feels her own cheeks redden at the thought of the way their mouths and fingers had explored each other’s bodies as if there were no tomorrow.

“For the first time in a long time, I care about someone. I would never forgive myself if I were the reason something happened to you.” His jaw is set tight as he looks at her.

“Why would something happen to me?” Isabel feels a cold shiver run down her back, and it has nothing to do with her state of undress. She watches as he weighs up what he is about to confide in her. “Tell me, Wes. I have a right to know.”

He pulls her towards the bed and her feet follow mechanically. “Sit.”

She does so, without a word. That in itself is a minor miracle and her compliance isn’t lost on Wesley.

“I was in the Marines.” He starts pacing around the room in front of her, roaming like a caged tiger. “I enrolled straight out of high school. My old man had always told me I wouldn’t amount to anything, that the military would straighten me out or I’d get my head blown off. He wasn’t too worried about which of the two happened first.”

“He sounds like a peach.” Isabel’s voice drips with sarcasm.

Wesley barks a bitter laugh and shakes his head, like he’s remembering just what a bastard the man who had sired him really is. “The military, it was something I was good at. I became a Marine, ended up leading a platoon…” He trails off and Isabel knows there’s so much he isn’t saying but she lets him tell his story as he wants, at least for now. “Anyway, when I left the Corps, I didn’t know what I was supposed to do anymore. I’d been following orders for so long, fighting the good fight, that civilian life just wasn’t all it was cracked up to be.” He looks at her as if to check that she’s still following, that she still wants to know what he’s about to tell her. She nods quickly, not wanting to give him any reason to back down from what he’s telling her. He rubs at the dark stubble along his cheeks, casting around for the right words. “Have you heard of the Devil Dogs?”

The name brings up some memory in the corner of her brain, but she can’t remember where she’s heard or seen it. Isabel shakes her head, frowning.

Wes looks a little surprised, but then nods in understanding. “Why should you know anything about them?” He shakes his head as he starts pacing again. “You’re not exactly moving in those kinds of circles and besides, we don’t operate in Dallas.”

The use of ‘we’ instead of ‘they’ isn’t lost on Isabel. “So who are the Devil Dogs?”

“It’s a motorcycle gang.” Wes says the words quickly, as if he’s afraid that if he doesn’t get them out, they’ll stick in his throat.

“Okay…” Isabel waits for the punch line; what he’s saying doesn’t seem so bad. “So you ride around on motorbikes, listen to ZZ Top and get into bar fights. What’s the big deal?” She frowns up at him, wondering why Wesley has found it so hard to tell her this.

He blinks at her, surprised at her reaction. “You really don’t know, do you?” There’s something close to wonder in his voice and he reaches out to her but then thinks better of it, pulling back his hand.

Isabel feels the change of heart like a slap in the face. “Know what, Wes?” She feels her frustration mounting. She’s never been a patient person and once she has her eyes set on something she has to know all about it. It’s what made her an excellent med student, but it doesn’t make it easy for her to just sit back and wait for Wesley to share his story.

He draws himself up, like he’s gathering himself together. “We don’t just ride on motorbikes and start bar fights. It’s a criminal gang.”

Isabel bites her lip, knowing she probably doesn’t want to hear the answer to the next question. “What do you do for them?”

“Whatever they need me to.” His voice is flat at the admission, as if there’s no emotion behind the words but Isabel knows differently.

“So what is it? Drugs? Guns? What do they deal in?” Isabel can’t bring herself to include Wesley; for her it’s still ‘they’ not ‘you.’

“All of it.” His voice is low and he avoids eye contact with her, looking down at the wooden floor.

“And what do you do for them?” She asks the question again because now she needs the answer, needs to know what she’s getting into with him. She needs to find out what kind of man she’s falling for. “Do you hurt people? Have you killed anyone?” Her voice is getting higher as his silence speaks volumes.

His eyes flash at that last question. “I haven’t taken a life since I left the Corps.” His voice is steady now, like he’s just giving her the facts. “But I know how to win a fight. I know how to cause pain and that’s how the Dogs found me.” He starts pacing again, a faraway look in his eyes as if he’s reliving his past as he talks. “In the Marines, they taught me how to fight, but they didn’t tell me how to stop. I was drifting, trying to figure out what my place was now that I wasn’t a Marine, now that I wasn’t anything at all. I guess I was looking for somewhere to belong. The Devil Dogs seemed to come along at the right time.” He shrugs as if it were that simple, but Isabel is no fool; she can see the haunted look in his eyes.

She takes a moment, trying to process all she’s heard. “So why would I be in danger? What does any of this have to do with me?”

“The less you know about the Dogs and what I do, the better.” He levels her with a serious look. “These guys are dangerous and they take their anonymity pretty damn seriously. The Feds, the ATF, they’ve been trying to penetrate the gang for years, but they’re always two steps behind. If the Dogs think someone outside knows what we’re doing, they’re prepared to shut them up, by any means necessary.”

Isabel shivers involuntarily at his words. Absently, she wonders when she’d earned a starring role in what sounded like something that could only happen in the movies.

In an instant, Wesley is by her side, his arms around her, holding her tight against his chest. “I won’t let anything happen to you.” His voice is firm as his fingers running through her hair are gentle. “I’ve been trying to keep you at arms length for your own safety. But I can’t, not anymore. I can’t stay away from you, Isabel.” He pulls away slightly to look at her, his fingers running over her the fullness of her cheek.

“I don’t want you to.” Her voice is quiet but there’s no mistaking the strength behind it.

Wesley’s eyes are conflicted. “But it’s not right. It’s not fair on you. It’s not safe for you to be with me. I should be telling you to stay as far away from me as possible. But I can’t, which makes me a selfish asshole.”

Isabel shakes her head firmly, resting her hands on either side of his rugged face. “I don’t want that kind of ‘safety.’ Not if it means being without you.” She looks at him seriously, communicating with her eyes that she has no intention of backing down. “Besides, there’s a lot you still don’t know about me; trust me, I can take care of myself.”

“But you don’t have to, not while I’m around.”

She doesn’t have long to ask herself the question that she’s been avoiding as he curls his fingers around the back of her neck, pulling her closer to him and kissing her deeply. She doesn’t have time to ask exactly how long he’s planning to be around before he pushes her gently back down onto the bed, nudging open her thighs with his knee.

Besides, it’s too soon for that. It’s too soon for any kind of sense of ownership. That’s what she tells herself, anyway. Never mind that the idea of him with anyone else makes her stomach turn. Never mind that she’s pulled towards him like a planet orbiting the sun. He’s told her he’s dangerous, that he’s not the kind of guy she should be with. So why is it so hard to believe him? Why is it impossible to imagine him being the villain of the piece rather than the hero? Why is it so hard to persuade herself she doesn’t need him?

Wesley’s mouth kisses a trail down her throat, suckling at her neck and she breathes in the scent of him, the feel of him, adding fuel to the flame of her overwhelming desire for him. The last thought she has before all rational thinking leaves her brain is a flashback to what he had said about the Dogs – that he had been looking for somewhere to belong when they found him. And she wonders if he is still searching, if, perhaps, he might find what he is looking for with her.