Текст книги "Fire Me Up"
Автор книги: Rachael Johns
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Текущая страница: 13 (всего у книги 15 страниц)
Travis’s name was engraved in a bold pink font with a tiny Harley-Davidson motorbike identical to the one he rode, identical to the picture she’d sketched, just beneath it.
It had felt so right—as if he was the yin to her yang, the black to her white, the hot to her cold—that she’d gotten carried away by the fairy tale. Maybe because he didn’t look or act like your typical Prince Charming, she’d more easily believed what they had was the real deal. Whatever; she was now a fool with a broken heart and a permanent reminder of her crazy affair on her behind. If only she’d gone to see Lorna first, before getting the tattoo, then maybe Travis wouldn’t have found her there.
But thank God she hadn’t gotten it in a more prominent place. No one would ever see it where it was, except for future lovers.
Something halfway between a laugh and a snort escaped her mouth as she eased herself back off the sofa. Future lovers? As if Saxon and then Travis hadn’t taught her enough about the male of the species. Whatever package they came in, they were all the same, and she didn’t want anything to do with any of them ever again.
–
Despite Billie’s brave pep talk to herself, the next few days were hard. She ignored the music coming from The Priory every night, trying not to wonder if Travis was there and what he might be getting up to. There was too much work to do to wallow in her heartache and besides, the pain in her butt was so bad it helped distract her from the absolute emptiness that plagued the rest of her body. She assisted the artists in packing up their pieces and hugged and cried with many of them as she said her goodbyes. They all wanted to know if she’d be staying in the Quarter, if they could catch up for drinks sometime, but Billie told them no. She resigned from her ghost tour gig because although she had no idea where she and Baxter would go next, she couldn’t stay here. Travis had ruined this city for her.
Whenever she thought of New Orleans now, it wouldn’t be the beautiful architecture, the almost magical atmosphere of the place, the street musicians, the spooky history or the fabulous food that came to mind. It would be the expression on his face as he loomed above her and then thrust inside.
She swallowed, her eyes moistening again at the thought as her insides twisted in their efforts to match the pain on her butt that constantly reminded her of her stupidity.
“Baxter?” She called to the dog and then sniffed as she waited for him to come to her. He’d been lamenting by the gate, watching the people walking by on Bourbon Street, on constant vigil for one particular person. Whining at every passerby as if he were in some kind of prison. It was almost as if he blamed Billie for Travis’s absence. No matter how much she tried to butter him up with treats to show her affection, he barely gave her the time of day.
“Damn dog,” she sighed when he didn’t come running. She called again, this time shaking his tin of treats, and when he still didn’t appear, she went out into the gallery to look for him. The courtyard, which she’d once loved, now looked so forlorn. She’d even had to get rid of the piano. Only two of the artists still had to collect their paintings, and then it would be time to hand in her keys at The Priory. There were really not many places left where Baxter could hide. Not finding him outside, she went back into the house, did a quick search and came up blank.
Then, she started to panic.
Chapter 15
Travis spent most of his time holed up in one of the rooms above The Priory working, occasionally venturing downstairs for a beer and to discuss the Ministry issue with Ajax and Blue. They still hadn’t decided what to do about the information he’d found, because none of them wanted to go into Ministry territory all heavy-handed when their own club wasn’t yet back to full strength. Which was a drag, because Travis was in the mood to wreak havoc.
He’d assumed within a couple of days of moving out of Billie’s place that he’d start to feel like himself again. Every night he went downstairs hoping that some tart’s short skirt would pique his interest—he figured fucking someone else might help him obliterate the taste and feel of Billie—but so far he hadn’t been able to bring himself to even talk to another woman. Sophie had guessed what his sour mood was about and told him to either get over Billie or go the fuck back to her.
“I don’t want your hangdog expression turning away my customers,” she’d said last night.
It was easy for her to hand out advice when she was so loved up, but she and Ajax were partly to blame for his grumpiness. How was he supposed to forget Billie when they constantly reminded him what it was like to be one part of a whole? They seemed truly happy, and Travis couldn’t help the jealousy that sparked within him. Ajax, although still hard around the edges and still not someone you’d want to mess with, had definitely changed since shacking up with Sophie.
Needing some fresh air and to break this cycle of unhelpful thoughts, he took himself downstairs, sat down on a stool and kicked his boot into the old oak of the bar. He was considering whether it was too early for a drink and decided maybe it would be better to go for a ride, when he felt something warm and furry at his feet.
“Baxter?” he said, glancing down.
“You know that pup?” Sophie asked, coming in from the back. “I was about to call the pound.”
And he was about to tell her it was Billie’s dog and ask if she could take him back, but something stopped him. Instead, he stooped down and scooped him up. “Yep. I’ll take him back where he belongs.”
He hadn’t seen Billie since his explosion at Lorna’s and he wanted to, dammit. Just one last time. Maybe one last hit was what he needed before he exorcised her from his mind altogether.
Baxter nuzzling against his neck and licking his face in a way that was quite embarrassing, Travis went out onto the street and turned toward the gallery. Watching from above The Priory, he’d seen the trail of people coming and going over the last few days, collecting pieces of art and taking them away, but he didn’t expect to feel so bereft when he looked through the ornate ironwork gate and saw it almost empty.
And he was responsible. He’d taken away the life and color of the building, stolen the place where so many locals showcased their work and where Billie and Baxter had made themselves a home. He’d done some pretty bad shit in his life, but somehow this made him feel worse than any of it. Baxter still in his arms, he tried the gate, but it was locked. He’d have to go get a key from next door. As he turned, a thought struck him cold.
Could she have left already and abandoned Baxter?
As unlikely as it seemed, the place looked deserted, and if she was heading back to Australia, she might have thought Baxter was better off here. Maybe she sent him toward The Priory, assuming someone would take him in? Something inside him constricted at the thought—not because he was worried about the dog so much but because of what it meant.
“Are you trying to kidnap my dog now?”
A voice he’d recognize anywhere jolted his jumble of thoughts, and he spun around and came face-to-face with Billie as she approached from the other direction. Her face glistened with perspiration and she was breathing heavily as if she’d just run a marathon. She glared at him like he was the devil incarnate. Fuck, she was gorgeous. If anything, the scowl on her face only made her more attractive. He couldn’t help glancing down her body, taking in her short skirt and knee-high boots. Although her top was of the baggy variety, he knew the curves beneath it all too well and his hormones stood at attention.
“Do you mind?” she spat, crossing her arms over her chest and shaking her head at him.
He chose to ignore that question, answering her first one instead. “I’m just trying to bring the stupid mutt back to you. I found him next door.”
She closed the distance between them and snatched the dog from him. “Well…Thanks.” It sounded like those two words almost killed her.
They stood there in silence, glaring at each other for what felt like an eternity. A voice inside Travis’s head told him to walk away, but his legs wouldn’t listen. Probably because they were attached to his dick, and his dick thought walking away was a stupid idea.
“Well, I guess this is it,” Billie said eventually.
He waited for her to say something deep and meaningful about their time together, but she fished her key out of her pocket and, struggling with Baxter in her arms, turned to open the gate. She cursed as she fumbled with the key in the lock and he slid his arm around her and assisted, easily turning the key and then pushing the gate open for her. Without thinking, he put a hand on her butt as she passed by him and she flinched as if he’d touched her with a hot flame.
That hurt, but then she took a few steps and he saw that she was limping. His touch hadn’t been that hard. “What the hell’s wrong with your leg?”
“Nothing,” she called back without even turning to look at him.
But he could tell that was bullshit. She was hurt, and for some insane reason he wanted to make sure it wasn’t anything serious. Uninvited, he followed her right inside the house.
“Don’t lie to me, Billie. Tell me what happened.”
“What do you care?” she asked, dumping Baxter on the floor near his bowl and wincing again.
He opened his mouth but no words came out. It was a good question and he had no idea how to answer it.
“If you must know, I got a tattoo,” she admitted. “It’s still a little tender.”
“A tattoo? On your ass?” He smiled at the thought. That was something he really, really wanted to see. And not just because she had the hottest butt he’d ever laid eyes on. He wanted to know what kind of tattoo she’d chosen.
“Surprised, Travis? If you must know, I’m regretting it immensely. And not just because it hurts like hell.”
“What is it?”
She rubbed her lips together a moment as if considering whether or not to tell him, and then glanced down at the dog. “Baxter.”
“You got that ugly mutt etched into your ass?” It didn’t make sense. If the tattoo was that innocuous, wouldn’t she have gotten it somewhere she could show it off?
She nodded. “Not that it’s any of your damn business. Now, if there’s nothing else, do you mind running away again, please?”
Always so polite. Even when she was pissed off. “When did you get it?”
“A few days ago.”
He frowned. “Let me take a look? It shouldn’t still be that painful.”
“I don’t want you looking at my butt!”
He raised an eyebrow at her mortified expression. “I’ve seen it before, babe.”
“Yes, but that was different.” She pouted, hugging Baxter close as if he would protect her from Travis’s prying eyes. “And don’t call me ‘babe.’ ”
Ignoring her objections, he stepped toward her and spun her around so she was facing away from him. As he reached out and eased her skirt up, bunching it around her waist like a belt, she sucked in a breath and steadied herself on the counter. Despite the erotic nature of their position and the way he peeled back her panties to look beneath, he wasn’t thinking sexual thoughts when he laid his eyes on her tattoo.
“Jesus, Billie.” Not only was the skin raw and puffing along the ink lines, it was swollen. It was one of the mostly badly infected tattoos he’d ever seen, but not so bad that he couldn’t make out the design. That was no dog on her right butt cheek, it was his name and his bike—he guessed a miniature image of the picture she’d sketched, the picture he had yet to see. Something primal shifted inside him.
“I thought the pain was normal,” she whispered.
He was more off balance than he’d ever felt in his life. This mark wasn’t in pen like the pictures his mom had drawn on his skin when he was a child. This was permanent. “Why’d you get it?”
“Because I’m a fool.” She tugged away from him, yanked down her skirt and glared at him again. “For some crazy reason I fell in love with you and believed you when you told me you felt the same way. I got this so that every time we had sex, you’d be reminded of what you meant to me and also to show my willingness to accept and become part of your way of life.”
Each word she uttered felt like another tug of barbed wire closing around his heart. She was angry, raw and laying her heart on the line.
“Then why’d you go see Lorna behind my back? You know how I feel about her.”
“I do.” She sighed, sounding defeated. “But you never told me I couldn’t see your mother and, as I made clear, if you did I would have told you to go to hell. Not because I want to be best friends with Lorna, not because I don’t love you, but because I have some self-respect. I’m not going to be ordered around by anyone anymore.”
He raked a hand through his hair, frustrated because a part of him respected and admired her stance. But…his mother?
“And I understand why you feel the way you do,” she continued. “Lorna was a pretty monumental fuck-up, but she has to live with her guilt about that forever. I know what you think, but she’s not a bad person. Just like you’re not a bad person either. You’ve both done some bad things, but they’re not who you are.”
“And that was your plan?” He was desperately trying to hold on to his anger. “To bring me around to your way of thinking? To set up some kind of mediation between me and her?”
“I’ll admit, I thought about that to start with, but that was before I gave you my heart. Then I realized that no matter what I felt, something like that had to be your decision and my only business was to love you as you are. I hoped that for your sake, one day you’d be able to let go of your anger, but the other day when I went to Lorna’s it was to tell her that I wouldn’t sneak around behind your back. It was to say goodbye.”
And that was it. He believed her. No one had ever truly loved him before, but he knew he could trust her. Her love had changed him. Unable to put how he felt into words, all he could do was pull her into his arms and kiss her like mad.
Kiss her like he never wanted to let go. Which he didn’t.
–
Travis’s lips crashing down on Billie’s was the last thing she expected, and she froze for a moment in shock. Then the thoughts invaded—what did this mean? Had he changed his mind about her? How did she feel about that? Next came the feelings, the taste of him as his tongue pushed into her mouth, the familiar sensations deep inside her as he cupped his hands around her face and rocked his body against hers. He was hard, and she wanted him like an addict wanted her next fix.
But, summoning all the willpower she had, she tore her lips from his and pushed her hands against his solid chest—she needed more than just a quick fuck up against the counter. Quite aside from the fact that she wasn’t sure her butt could handle such an act in its sensitive state, she loved this man, and it would break her heart to be with him and then watch him run again.
“What are you doing?” She panted a little, trying to catch her breath.
“I’m kissing my woman. I’ve missed it.” He stepped closer again, but she increased the pressure of her palms on his chest.
“Whoa…let’s slow down a moment. You don’t evict someone you care about, you don’t order her around, you don’t—”
He interrupted her. “Do you want me to grovel? Because I will.”
“Huh?” Her head spun.
“Maybe I’m not making myself clear.” He shoved his hands in his pockets and she tried not to mourn the loss of them on her skin. It would be easier to maintain her head if there was distance between them. “I’m sorry, Billie. I shouldn’t have told you who you can and can’t see. I fucked up. No one’s ever offered me love or any kind of shit like that and I just…I didn’t know how to deal with it. I’m even considering talking to Lorna. Do you know how scary all that is?”
His lips lifted at the edges, and she felt the tension and sadness that had been plaguing her these last few days ebbing away. “I didn’t think anything scared you, Cash.”
He chuckled, reached out and brushed his thumb over her finger. Her nerve endings stood to attention; the gesture was sweet and hot all at once. “Love does,” he admitted. “It fucking terrifies me. You do, too. The thought of losing you is scarier than anything I’ve ever faced before. And trust me, I’ve faced some pretty scary shit.”
“So you’ve told me.”
“Yes.” He lowered his head and leaned his forehead against hers. “And yet you still want to be with me. At least I hope you still do.”
“I do,” she whispered. “And I promise you I’ll never go behind your back about anything else ever again. I only went to see your mom without telling you because I didn’t want to hurt you.”
“Shh. I know everything you do is with the best intentions. You’re too fucking good for anything else.”
“I can be bad if I want to,” she protested, thinking of the tattoo on her butt and all the naughty things she’d done with him.
“And I like the bad you just as much as the good you.”
Her lady bits flared in anticipation and desire. She gave him her most seductive smile. “Wanna show me?”
“Yes.” He nodded, smoldering heat in his tone and his eyes. “Definitely yes, but first I think I need to do some first aid.”
“What?”
“Your ass.” He pointed toward her butt.
“Oh, that.” Funny, his kiss and his confession had almost obliterated the pain.
With a chuckle, Travis took her hand and led her into the bedroom. With a gentleness she’d never expected of a big, bad biker, he hunted down first aid supplies and started tending her butt.
She lay flat on her stomach on the bed, her backside fully exposed, yet under his soft caress it wasn’t long before she forgot about her wound. Instead of pain, when he touched her, all she felt was heat and need and want.
“Travis,” she hissed, squeezing her thighs together as his fingers rubbed in some kind of antiseptic cream. “Forget about playing Florence Nightingale—I’ve got other needs that need seeing to.”
“Oh yeah? What kind of needs?” he asked, crawling up her body and lowering his mouth to her ear.
“Um…” She couldn’t think with his breath so close to her neck. “Carnal ones?”
In reply, he pressed his mouth against her neck, biting her, branding her, making her want him more than she thought possible. “I think I can help with those as well.”
At his words, desperate need zapped through her body—it had been days since she’d had him inside her and that needed to be rectified immediately. Without a thought to her tattoo, she rolled over into a sitting position and then shoved him down onto the mattress. Starting with his boots, then his T-shirt and jeans, she made quick work of his clothing. Thanks to his skillful first aid, she was already naked from the waist down and that was all she needed.
She climbed on top of him and sank right down onto his shaft. A moan escaped her lips as her body accommodated him. She met his gaze and grinned.
“Damn, you feel good,” he uttered, sliding his hand into her hair and pulling her mouth toward his.
“Good?” she whispered, starting to move slowly up and down his cock. “Who wants to be good when being bad is so…much…more…fun?”
In reply, he smashed his lips against hers, planted his hands on her thighs and met each move she made with a fast, hard thrust of his own. Her clit pulsed against him and she knew it wouldn’t take long to be exactly where she wanted to be. Hell, she was already there and, if the way he cursed her name was any indication, so was he. And being bad with Travis was better than anything she’d ever experienced before. Thoroughly spent, she flopped against him, her ear pressed against his chest as she listened to the beat of his racing heart. A sound more beautiful than any she’d ever heard, and one she’d never tire of listening to.
Then, he brushed back her hair and whispered, “I love you, Billie,” and she had to reassess because those words and his voice…they were the most beautiful things ever.
To my fabulous Deacon girls—Megan Crane, Maisey Yates and Jackie Ashenden—thanks for a wild ride and the awesome memories of New Orleans!
