Thrust/Throb: Lost Devils MC - Book 2 Page 5

  And then, I blink.

  A blonde girl in tight jeans that fit her sweet ass perfectly, wearing a leather jacket and boots, steps into the box. It’s not odd for Barnes and his crew to have a bunch of girls with them with the way they flash around cash and cocaine. But this doesn’t look like your average track-rat.

  She’s turned away from me, her long blonde hair tousled and falling over one shoulder. Barnes sidles up to her, and I frown when I see him throw an arm over around her and yank her awkwardly into him.

  What a bloody waste. A pretty girl like her with a royal twat like—

  And then, she turns, and the ground drops out from under me.

  Oh fuck me.

  It’s her. The girl turns with Barnes’s arm around her waist, she looks up at the track, and it’s her.

  …It’s the waitress.

  My eyes drop back to his arm on her, and his hand touching her side, and I go from annoyed to fucking enraged. I snarl behind my helmet, seeing bloody red as my lips curl and the savage inside of me bellows in rage.

  She lied. She damn well is somebody’s, and it’s pretty fucking clear to see with Barnes’s arm around her waist. Anger simmers inside of me, but I can’t look away. I haven’t been a bloody angel throughout my life, but I have boundaries, and one of them is to stay the fuck away from married girls or girls who are clearly involved.

  And yet here I am, staring at this girl I slept with not two hours ago—hating her and wanting her all over again, all at the same time. How the fuck do I find trouble like this?

  “Oy,” I grunt at the geezer on the Honda next to me. He turns and slides his visor up.

  “What’s up?”

  I nod up at Barnes’s box. “Who the fuck is that?”

  “Who?”

  “The bir—the girl.”

  The guy snickers and shakes his head. “You got a fuckin’ death wish?”

  Maybe. Magic 8-ball says ask again later.

  “Who is she?”

  “That girl? Buddy,” the guys laughs. “You ain’t from around here, are you?”

  “What bloody gave it away?” I mutter.

  “I mean you do sound foreign.”

  Great, I’m racing an imbecile.

  The guy shrugs. “Yo, do yourself a favor and never look at her again. And don’t ask anyone else that question.”

  I frown, even though my visor is still down. “So who—”

  “That’s Delphine Armory,” the guy mutters quietly. “That’s Barnes’s girl.”

  Oh fuck.

  Chapter Five

  Oliver

  Barnes’s girl. She’s fucking Bryce bloody Barnes’s girl.

  Fire and rage and fury ignite inside of me. I shake my head, trying to physically toss her out of my mind, but it’s not happening. All I can think of is the way she gripped me, the way she tasted. The way she moaned and urged me on. The announcer steps forward and yells something into his megaphone, but I don’t hear it. He raises the black and white flag, but all I see is red. The flag drops, and I let loose with the power of fucking hell blazing through my veins.

  The Duchess takes off like a goddamn bullet, screaming around the track like a bat out of hell. My pulse thunders, and the memory of the way she tasted, and the way she felt, and the way she moved with me fades until all I can see is that fuck Barnes’s arm around her.

  I see red. I’m distracted, and furious, and that’s dangerous going a hundred and eighty bloody miles an hour on a still-rain-wet track.

  And then somehow, it’s over, and I cross the line, alive somehow. The crowds come rushing over, and some guy is screaming about breaking some sort of track record, but I’m not bloody listening. My eyes are narrowed through my visor, glaring right back at that plywood VIP box that I’m back in front of.

  Barnes’s arm isn’t around her this time. Now, he’s looming over her, his face enraged as he screams at her. She looks strong, her jaw set and her eyes fierce as she glares right back at him, but I can see the fear there too. Barnes’s jabs a finger at her, and her strong façade crumbles just a little. She blinks, and I know even Barnes can see she’s scared now. He sees it, like a shark smells blood in the water, and he grins.

  He barks at her again, and I go still on the bike. She says something, and it’s almost in slow motion as I watch Barnes wind back and then bring his hand down hard across her face.

  I. See. Red.

  I lurch off the bike, going to rip my fucking helmet off. But suddenly, there’s a guy in front of me, holding me back.

  “Chill, man,” he grunts. It’s the guy from before the race started, who was lined up next to me. He’s still got his helmet on, but he’s glaring at me hard with dark eyes through his raised visor.

  “You don’t want to die here tonight, man,” he growls lowly. The crowd envelopes us, people start shaking my hand and trying to take bloody selfies with me. I grunt and shake them off, but when I look up again, she’s gone. There’s just Barnes and his boys up there, fucking laughing it up like he didn’t just smack a girl. Barnes pumps his fist in the air, and he spots me standing there next to The Duchess and points at me. He grins widely and shouts something like “show me the money!”

  Fucking twat.

  I shouldn’t get involved. It’s not the first time I’ve seen people act shitty, and it’s certainly not the first time I’ve seen a woman get hit. But this one, I know I should stay away from. I shouldn’t get involved.

  …Except I already am.

  Finally, the third heat is being set up, so I get back onto my bike and roar off, heading back towards the storage units. I don’t need to go collect or anything—my winnings are going straight to Barnes’s fucking pockets anyways. I swap out for Lucile and my Lost Devils cut again, lock up the unit, and head back out. It’s close to one in the morning, and I’ve got a two-hour drive back to Blackthorn.

  I drive around a corner of what was going to be the racetrack’s pub and restaurant, when suddenly, my eyes catch it. There’s a shape in the shadows—a figure slumped down against the side wall with her head in her hands.

  My heart stops, and so does the bike.

  It’s her.

  I turn the engine off, and that seems to shake her from her daze. She glances up and then quickly stands and brushes her eyes. She turns to walk away, but I yank my helmet off as I follow.

  “How bad?”

  She freezes at the sound of my voice, her body stiffening before slowly, she turns. Her eyes hold mine over her shoulder with her blonde hair half covering one of them, and I watch as she rakes her teeth over her bottom lip.

  “How bad did that fuck hurt you?”

  “It’s nothing,” she says quietly, turning to face me.

  “That wasn’t nothing,” I snarl, stepping closer to her. She swallows, her eyes sliding up and down over me.

  “You’re—I mean, this is you?”

  I frown, and she looks down, blushing.

  “I just mean I’ve seen you race a bunch of times. I just didn’t realize… you know.” She shrugs. “You’re always wearing a helmet.”

  “You’re usually up in the box seat, before it burned.”

  She nods, and my jaw clenches.

  “So you’re with Barnes,” I growl lowly, my eyes locked with hers.

  She frowns, fire in her eyes. “I told you, I don’t belong to anyone.”

  “Yeah?” I grunt. “Could’ve fooled me. Could’ve fooled the rest of that lot who seems to think you are.”

  She purses her lips, her eyes flickering over mine. “It’s complicated.”

  “I don’t do complicated.”

  She snorts and rolls her eyes. “Yeah, I bet.”

  “The fuck is that supposed to mean?”

  “Nothing,” she snaps.

  “No, please, enlighten me,” I grunt.

  She laughs bitterly. “You’re serious? I mean look at you!” she snaps. “You’re like trouble incarnate. Everything about you screams trouble.”

  “Doesn�
��t seem like that stopped you much earlier,” I throw back.

  She bristles, but her face goes red, and she sucks that bottom lip back between her teeth.

  “Proud of yourself?” she spits. “Taking advantage of a situation to—”

  I bark out a laugh. “Please,” I grunt, moving right into her.

  She gasps, chewing on her lip as she looks up into my eyes.

  “Who exactly took advantage back there?”

  Her jaw drops. “You’re trying to say it was me?”

  I sigh, pushing my fingers through my long hair. “I mean, I was tired, and lost…” I shrug, and she rolls her eyes.

  “Oh, you poor thing. I am so sorry that that resulted in you getting to fuck me.”

  I grunt, and my hand reaches out to grab her waist. She gasps quietly as I pull her into me, my eyes blazing down into hers.

  “I don’t think that was just fucking, and I don’t think you think so either,” I growl.

  “I—” she swallows. “What are you doing here?”

  “I want the truth.”

  “About?”

  My eyes narrow. “Barnes.”

  Her lips tighten. “It’s none of your—”

  “I’m making it my business. And it became my business the second I saw him hit you just now,” I snarl.

  She looks away.

  “Delphine.”

  She looks up sharply, a question in her eyes.

  “Another rider mentioned it.”

  “Well how about you,” she whispers. “Got a name?”

  “Oliver.”

  She grins, looking away. “That is so British.”

  “The sun never sets, sweetheart. So, Barnes.”

  “It’s not what you think.”

  “Enlighten me.”

  “Oliver…”

  “Are you or are you not with Bryce Barnes?” I growl.

  Delphine looks up into my eyes, her look fierce. “It’s complicated.”

  I snarl and look away. “I don’t play games.”

  “Then don’t,” she snaps. “No one’s asking you to, just walk away. I mean wasn’t that the whole point of before? Something fun and wild that you could just walk away from? Please, Oliver, look at you. You’ve got one-time fling written all over you.”

  I snort, shaking my head. “Got me all bloody figured out, don’t you?”

  She shrugs. She’s trying to look cavalier and defiant, but I’m seeing right through that shit.

  “Just walk away,” she says quietly. “Trust me. Walk away. You’ll thank me.”

  But I don’t. Instead, I put my other hand on her, and my grip tightens on her waist. She whimpers softly as I pull her into me, and she swallows thickly as she looks back up at me.

  “I’m not doing that either,” I growl.

  “Why not?”

  “You know why not,” I say quietly.

  “Maybe I don—”

  “Because there’s no fucking way I could walk away from you,” I hiss.

  She goes still, her breath coming fast as we stare at each other, inches apart. Fuck, I can smell her, and I swear I can still taste her on my lips as I lock eyes with her.

  “Are you, or aren’t you with Barnes?,” I growl. “Because that’s trouble I do not play with.”

  “I—I’m not,” she whispers. “Not how you think I am. And I know what you think you saw, but I just need you to trust me on that.”

  “I don’t know you.”

  She bites her lip. “Hi, Oliver,” she whispers with a small smile. “I’m Delphine. Armory.”

  She looks at me, arching a brow like I should get something. But I don’t, so I don’t say anything.

  “Delphine Armory.”

  “Nice name?”

  She grins a lopsided smile. “You’re not from around here, are you?”

  “Oy now what bloody wanking shite gave it away luv?” I drawl in my best “Hollywood British” voice. Delphine giggles but quickly closes her mouth.

  “My dad…” she frowns. “My dad and my last name are sort of well-known around her in Dark Water Falls.”

  “Well, you’re still a pretty stranger to me,” I purr quietly.

  She blushes and looks down. My hands tighten on her, and her breath catches as she looks up quickly into my eyes.

  “We…” she swallows. “What else do you want to know?” she whispers heatedly.

  “Right now?” I growl lowly, feeling my pulse roaring as I pull her closer to me. “Right now, I just want to know if you taste the same mad as you did earlier.”

  Her eyes go wide as she moans, but before it can even tumble out of those lips, I crush mine to hers, swallowing it. She shivers against me, and when I pull her tight, she melts against me.

  I know she’s off limits. I know this is a right shit idea. But I also know that kissing this girl makes me feel more alive than any race I’ve ever ridden. Touching her and tasting her is a bigger rush than any adrenaline or drug hit I’ve ever felt. I kiss her hard, and fierce, like she’s mine. Because right now, at least in this moment?

  She bloody well is.

  I slam her against the wall, swallowing more of her moans as she grips me tight. Our tongue dance, and she moans eagerly into my mouth until we both pull away panting and red-faced.

  “I—” she gasps, her hand coming to touch her swollen lips. “If Barnes…”

  “You’re not with him,” I grunt.

  “It’s still complicated,” she whispers.

  “No, it’s not.” I take her hand and pull her with me as I stride back to my Harley. I pass her the helmet, and she blinks as she looks up at me sharply.

  “Get on.”

  “What?”

  “We’re getting the fuck out of here.”

  She sucks on her lip. “We?”

  “Yes, you and me. Get on.”

  “Oliver—”

  “I don’t give a fuck what you and Barnes are,” I hiss, startling her. “But I do know there’s no fucking way you’re staying here right now after that cunt smacked you around.” I hold her gaze, my hands coming up to cup her face.

  “Delphine, we’re leaving. Get on.”

  She hesitates for one more second before she swallows and nods.

  “Okay,” she whispers.

  She pulls the helmet on as I swing a leg over the bike. I reach over and help her on, and I growl when I feel her arms slide around my waist to hold me tight.

  “Where…” she shakes her head. “Never mind.”

  “What?”

  “I was going to ask where you’re taking me,” she says softly against my ear. “But I don’t want to know.”

  I frown. “Why not?”

  “Because I don’t care,” she whispers. “I just want you to take me anywhere that isn’t here.”

  I turn my head, and our lips meet. I groan into the kiss, cupping her face and kissing her fiercely before I slowly pull away. Her eyes flash with heat, and her hands tighten on me. I start up the bike, and it rumbles to life beneath us. And then, with a spit of gravel and a throb of the engine, we’re off.

  Come what fucking may.

  Chapter Six

  Delphine

  What the fuck am I doing?

  My entire body buzzes, my skin tingling and shivering. I cling to him, feeling the wind in my hair and the whole damn world rushing past me in a blur. I can feel his muscled body clenching and flexing under my hands, and heat blazes through me. With my arms and legs wrapped around him like this, all I can think of is the last time we were pressed so closely together.

  All I can think of is when I let go of any possible shred of my sanity and let him take all of me on that diner counter, loving every second of it.

  Between the memory of the best sex of my life that happened to have occurred merely hours ago with this very man, and the throb of the motorcycle between my thighs, I’m wet, instantly. More like soaked, actually. I bite my lip and press my face into his back, gasping quietly as the engine thunders and sends vibration
s through my core.

  I open my eyes, and I gasp slightly at the skull grinning back at me—the logo design on the back of his leather jacket. I pull away a little, and my eyes truly take in what I’m looking at—the skull and roses, the words “Lost Devils MC” stenciled beneath it.

  My gut clenches for a second.

  The leather, the boots, the bike, the dangerous glint in his eyes—it suddenly hits me that Oliver might not just be a bike and racing enthusiast. He might be a lot more than that. And suddenly, I can feel the panic—about all of this—start to rise. Oliver, Barnes, my situation, the fact that I just climbed onto the back of a biker gang member’s motorcycle. It hits a crescendo as we roar down the empty dark road, until I realize I’m hammering on his shoulder to get him to stop.

  Oliver swerves the bike to the side of the road as my anxiety starts to overtake me. By the time he turns off the engine, I’m panting and half jumping from the bike. My pulse races, and the world spins around me as I try and calm myself. I get these attacks sometimes—they’re like sort of panic attacks, but partly just overwhelming anxiety. And this one is about to explode.

  I stagger away from the bike, then back to it, then back away, everything spinning and spiraling until suddenly, he’s there. His big arms circle me, pulling me tight against his chest as I suck in gasps of air.

  “Hey, easy, easy,” he growls quietly. His huge arms hold me tight, and his hand strokes my hair. I cling to his shirt, squeezing my eyes shut and forcing myself to breathe until I can feel the throbbing pressure begin to ease up.

  With a final breath, I nod and slowly pull back from his chest. I glance up at him, but then quickly look away with embarrassment at my insane little outburst just now.

  “Sorry, I…”

  “Anxiety attacks,” he growls. “Yeah, I know. I get them too.”

  I frown. “Yeah?”

  He nods. “Usually getting on something fast and pushing it to its bloody limit does the trick. Other times, nothing does.”

  “Guess we’re both fucked up, huh?”

  He grins that roguish smile from the diner. “Guess so.”

  “It’s just…” I shake my head and step back from him. “This is fucking insane. I can’t just run off with you. If Barnes—”