Marked as His (8 page)

Taking his bowl in hand, he got up and walked through the open space. Muted shades of gray and dark blue were accented with white and silver. She had great taste—not much like the sweet butts he’d slammed and thank-ya-ma’amed. Santana had strived to separate herself from that lifestyle and she’d done beautifully.

Maybe it was wrong of him to yank her out of her world and into his.

He chewed and swallowed, but it seemed the flakes stuck in his throat as he saw her photos. A younger version of herself looking like a pinup girl in form-skimming dress and heels, her hair done in forties waves.

His cock liked what he saw too. He should walk into that bathroom and crowd into the shower with her. It really wasn’t
that
small.
She just wants to be alone.

Another photo of what had to be her mother stood in a silver frame. She was smiling and healthy looking with dark hair like Santana’s and skin a shade darker. Santana resembled her mother, not that ugly fuck Tommy.

He grinned. Wait till he told him.

“You didn’t make coffee?” Santana stood in the bedroom doorway, toweling her wet hair.

He lowered the bowl, the smile quirking the corner of his lips without any ability to stop it. “I didn’t know you wanted some.”

“I always have coffee in the morning. Actually, a whole pot.” She tossed the towel behind her and he heard it thump into the laundry basket. Then she breezed to the kitchen, wet hair trailing down her back.

Damn, he was in trouble. He liked her too much. After he got her to the club, he’d be lucky to get her alone again. He had a feeling she wouldn’t allow him near
,
let alone in her bed.

He followed her and took up the barstool again. She made coffee with economical movements, grinding beans and filling the machine. He could get too used to his. Watching her. Being with her.

“Are you really going to let me ink you?”

Her gaze flashed to his. Judging by the expression on her face, she wasn’t sure about anything she’d agreed to—ink or the club or Tommy. Paxton pushed his bowl away and issued a sigh.

“I’m not going to make you do anything you don’t want.”

“You came to force me to see my father.”

“I came to escort you to him. I wasn’t the one with the gun.”

“But you weren’t going to let me choose.”

“That’s true. I have a job, Santana.”

“What kind of job is it to bring in an unwilling woman?”

“I admit it was more difficult than I expected.”

At that, she snorted. Before the coffeemaker was finished, she poured a cup for him and pushed it across the countertop.

“You take the first cup. I’ll wait,” he said.

She waved off his words. He stared at her as she fixed herself a bowl of cereal and stood across the bar from him. The whole scene was so domestic, especially since he still tasted her on his lips.

Once she cradled a mug of black coffee and had a first sip, she said, “Tell me why you were sent after me.”

He eyed her. “You really want to know?”

“Yes.”

“I asked for a mission. I want my blood patch.”

Her brow crinkled. “Blood patch? For fetching me?”

He gave a single nod and she burst out laughing. He had to admit, it was funny now but he’d been more than a little irritated with such an easy job. “I’m glad it was me and not O’Dovey or Harris. I’d kill them if I found out they were in your bed.”

She sobered and set down her mug. “Do you think I sleep with any biker who comes by?”

“No. You’ve made it clear you don’t like my type.”

Her full lips tightened then relaxed. “Maybe I was wrong about you.”

Giving her a teasing grin, he looked at her from the corner of his eyes. “Does that mean you’re sorry for the torture you put me through?”

“Oh yeah. Torture.” She laughed again and they drank their coffee in companionable silence.

“Did you call off work?”

Tension was a whip between them. She wouldn’t meet his gaze. “Yeah, I did.”

“But?”

Her face was a mask. “But nothing. I made a mistake saying I’d go talk to my father. I don’t need that in my life.”

He could push her. Hell, he could throw her over his shoulder and take her to the MC now. But he hadn’t used his power over her yet and he wouldn’t. Not that kind of power, anyway.

“Santana, what are you afraid of?”

She dumped her dishes in the sink. Coffee she hadn’t drunk splashed upward but didn’t wet her top. “I’m not afraid of anyone or anything.”

“That I believe.” He circled the counter and pulled her against his chest. “But you’re damn good at evading your feelings.”

“And you face yours head-on?”

He gave her an amused smile. “Yeah, I do.” He pointed at a spot of ink on his chest. A black dog with tail lowered
.

“What does it mean?”

He drew her into his arms and held her. Somehow she was most relaxed in his hold, and he was going to take advantage of it. Especially since he might never get another chance to touch her after today.

“My early twenties were rough. I lost a lot of people close to me. Friends to gang-related deaths. A couple went to prison. My grandpa died. And I had the normal young adult angst shit going on too. So I was depressed enough to think about taking my life.”

She went still.

“I had a rope slung over the rafter in the garage and a noose at the end.”

“But you didn’t do it. Why?”

“My little brother walked in. He wasn’t very old. Too young to totally understand but old enough to know what I was doing.”

“You stopped because of him.”

He nodded, his jaw catching on her damp hairs. “He made me realize while I’d lost some, it wasn’t all. And as long as I had one or two people left standing in my life to support me, I could go on. But that wasn’t the end of the depression. I battled it for years after until I found the club.”

She tipped her head up to stare at him. “The club helped you through depression?”

“The brotherhood is good for me. I need to be part of something good. And yes, Santana, we do a lot for our members and people in this town.”

Withdrawing from his embrace, she said, “But not my family.”

He followed her into the bedroom. The bed was rumpled and the scents of their lovemaking slammed him. As if suspecting this, she put herself across the room.

Not far enough.

“I respect your wishes, Santana, but you gave me your word to go to the club with me.”

“Or what?” She eyed the gun and bullets spilled on the dresser. They both knew she wasn’t going to point it at him again. She’d only used it when she’d felt a real threat.

So far his instinct had been to give her time and space. He wasn’t going to ignore that now. He sank to the side of the bed and dropped his head into his hands. Seconds ticked by then she came to stand within reach of him.

“I can’t go, Paxton.”

“I’ll be with you every step of the way. And if he upsets you I’ll knock his teeth out.”

She pushed out a sound, part laugh, part tearful moan. He reached for her. God, she was gorgeous and strong and someone he wanted to know more about. He caught her fingers and tugged. “Why don’t you straddle my lap while you think about it?”

•●•

Paxton might actually be someone she’d want to date—if he wasn’t trying to drag her back into a life she despised.

She straddled his big legs, too aware of his size—especially the impressive bulge pressing against her pussy.

He brushed his nose against hers, nuzzling until a sweet ache rose in her chest. When he swooped in and claimed her mouth, she gasped. Need bubbled up and overflowed. She locked her arms around his neck and drowned in his taste and feel.

She’d give him back later—right now, he was still her captive.

But this was what she’d craved, deep down—a rough, real man.

Paxton slid his hands beneath her ass and stood with her. He held her suspended, kissing, his hands molding to her flesh. She closed her eyes and threaded her fingers into his hair.

He turned and she expected to feel the soft mattress under her spine. Instead he shoved her against a wall.

Her eyes flew open to see his intense gaze on her.

“I’m going to fuck you all over this house before I leave.”

“Marking your territory?”

“Little bit, yeah.” He kissed her again. Passion raged, and he let her slide down his body…slowly so she felt every delicious inch of his tall frame. When her feet hit the carpet the race was on to see who could undress faster.

He won.

By the time she stepped out of her jeans, he had a condom on. She shimmied up him like a stripper on a pole. He lifted her and set her on his cock. He sank balls-deep.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he growled, slamming her into the wall. His inches stretched her then withdrew, leaving her pussy clasping on air. She looked into his eyes at the moment he filled her again.

His chest rumbled as he threw himself into fucking her so hard the pictures rattled. She nipped his lips then around to his neck, tasting salty man. She laved his skin with her tongue, and suddenly she was quivering on the brink.

He bit off a roar. “You’re squeezing the come out of me.”

“Good,” she panted, thrusting her tongue between his beautiful lips again. He jerked upward, scudding her spine up the wall, but she didn’t care about anything but the burning desire raging through her.

Her inner walls clenched and released in time to his movements. Then he got out of rhythm and she went flying. She dug her nails into his shoulders as her release tore through her.

“Love. Fuck.” His words grew more disjointed than his hip action. Then he stiffened and shoved so deep, she felt every pulsation of his cock as he emptied into her.

Perspiration broke out on her skin, sealing her to him as they rode out their passion. When he wobbled, she pulled back to look at him. His eyes creased in a grin. “What the hell have you done to me? You took all my strength.”

With that, he turned for the bed. In two steps they collapsed, entwined, breathing hard.

Outside of this condo the world might be blown up, for all she knew. She felt isolated with him.

His warm hand lay heavy on her thigh, inches from her pussy. She stared at the ceiling, her mind on overdrive. Fucking him was all good—especially for her lonely libido. But nothing could come of this liaison.

“I hear you thinking again.”

She roused and looked at him. Warm brown eyes loomed close. “How do you hear thinking?”

“Maybe it’s my job. I’m trained to listen, remember?”

She twisted onto her side to see him better and snuggle close. “What do you hear?”

“You trying to figure out how to get out of keeping your promise to go to the club.”

“I never promised.”

“You gave me your word. That’s a promise to me and my brothers.”

Oh lawdy. Not the brotherhood bullshit.

“Call me my father’s daughter—I went back on my word.”

“How do you know Tommy did? You don’t know his reasons for sending you and your mom away. Maybe he didn’t have a choice.”

She pulled her lip between her teeth and contemplated Paxton’s words. “Like he was in trouble and sending us away was the only way to keep us safe?”

He lifted a massive shoulder in a shrug, causing her to roll toward him. “Maybe. I don’t know. It’s why you need to go talk to him, Santana.”

Any feel-good vibes she’d gotten from mind-blowing sex fled quickly at the thought of seeing her father. She’d taken off the day of work and it didn’t seem as if Paxton would give up easily. At least he wasn’t using brute force, but having him pick apart her psyche was worse.

“I’m not ready.” She sounded stronger than she felt.

“We have some time, but eventually they’re going to come looking for me.”

“They already rode past the condo several times during the night.”

He half-rose as if to jump up. “Did they?”

“Yeah, I guess you’re a heavy sleeper.”

He lightly grazed her shoulder with his teeth. “You noticed?”

“Yeah.” That intimacy was back. She had to get him out of her house. She couldn’t afford to like him more.

“Did I snore?” he asked.

Too late.
She did like him more—more than just a great fuck. Why did he have to be a Hell’s Son?

She rolled onto her back and stared at the ceiling.

He leaned over her. “Look. You come with me—as promised.” He lowered his brows. “And I promise if he does or says anything upsetting, I get you out. No questions. You just say the word.”

She eyed him. Could it be that easy?

“Trust me.”

Issuing a sigh, she pushed her fingers through her hair. She could keep running, but eventually Tommy would catch up with her. She either faced this like an adult now or let it haunt her forever. As for Paxton, she had no idea what to do about him. She had a feeling he wasn’t done with her.

“Okay,” she said quietly.

That gleam was in his eyes. “Yeah?” He scraped his teeth over his lower lip, sending the hairs of his soul patch rippling. She had a sudden longing to kiss them into order.

“Yes.”

“Good. I want a shower and then we’ll drop by my place so I can grab a few things.” He swung his legs over the bed and she watched his carved ass move away and disappear into her bathroom. There he took a piss and then got in the shower.

Where he sang.

Paxton lived clear across town. The outskirts brushed against the countryside, raising memories of school field trips and one time her father had brought her along to visit a friend.

The club member had gotten too old to do much around the clubhouse. He was wheelchair-bound and lonely. While her dad talked to the man, Santana played with his cats.

When the engine stopped vibrating between her legs, she came back to herself with a start. Glancing around, she realized they’d stopped in front of a small house.

“Welcome to my chateau.” He climbed off and removed his helmet, hanging it on the handlebar. “It’s a duplex. Right side’s mine. Rent’s affordable and…well, I like the quiet away from town.”

She understood. After she and her mother had left, they’d lived in several cramped apartments right on the main thoroughfare. All night long she’d endured loud voices, music, and traffic. Eventually it had become a sort of lullaby.