Breathing His Air (7 page)

“Babe … ” He reached for the tequila.

She flung her arm out and shook her head. “Nope. You like me, Rain. I won’t let you kick me out of here. Ask anyone. I belong here. I do. I’ve got money.”

“Damn me.” His mouth softened. “Let’s get you a table before you fall flat on your ass.”

Pleased with standing up for herself, she followed him over to the side of the room. He removed the bottle from her hand and held the chair for her. She smiled at him. This nice Rain she could get used to, and she told him as much. Although he mumbled something about the booze talking.

“I’m drunk?” She leaned toward him. “I can’t be.”

“Whiskey and tequila, babe.”

“No freaking way. I’d never drink whiskey or ruin a good tequila.” She laughed. “Why would I do that? I only allow myself two small shots” — she held up her fingers — “and I haven’t had any with lemon and salt yet. That’s the fun part. I don’t like straight tequila. I just like to lick, sip, and suck.”

He growled. She patted his leg. “I’ll show you. We can do it together.”

“Tori … ” His gaze went to the ceiling before landing back on her. He shook his head. “Askin’ for trouble.”

She blew a raspberry. “Unlikely. I go out of my way to be good and not bring attention to myself.”

Rain stood, and she laughed at how he tried not to enjoy himself with her. Something about him made her push back, just so she could see him try to fight the smile she brought him. She never let herself drink, especially alone. But he made her feel daring and wild. All that leather molded over his body, the long hair, and tattoos. She sighed in appreciation. Bad boy to the core.

The kind of man she’d typically stay away from, because he was too manly, sexy, and tempting. She’d be too scared of making a huge mistake. A man who caused her body to hum by breathing would be the worst mistake she ever made.

Love was for other people. Not her. It was safer that way.

He returned with a plate of lemons and a mound of salt. She grinned and reached for a lemon. He grabbed her wrist. “No.”

“But — ”

“If you’re going to get wasted, you do it right. You make it worth the hell you’re going to go through tomorrow when you wake up,” he said.

He turned her hand over and kept his eyes on her. He licked the sensitive flesh on the inside of her wrist before sprinkling salt over her skin. She melted. Not a little, but a humongous, world-tilting crumble.

Without taking his gaze from her, he slowly licked the salt off her skin. The world-tilting crumble grew to an earthquake that had to have hit four on the Richter scale. She grabbed on to his arm to steady herself as she watched him lift the tequila, swig, and slowly suck the lemon with an expression she imagined he had at the moment of climax.

The room disappeared, and she focused on Rain. She slowly blinked. The inferno in her stomach tingled in the most hypnotic way.

“Your turn.” He cupped the back of her head, brought her into his space, and held out his arm. “Lick, babe.”

Oh, God. She rubbed her lips together, hesitating. Oh, God.

He leaned closer and whispered, “Lick me.”

She opened her mouth, hesitantly stuck her tongue out, and thoroughly swiped the barbed wire tattoo on the soft spot of his wrist. His pulse beat under her tongue, and she closed her eyes. She might’ve moaned, but she couldn’t hear herself think.

“Drink.”

He lifted the tequila to her lips with his other hand. The alcohol hit the salt, and before she could think about the taste, Rain held the lemon to her lips. She sucked and let the tantalizing cocktail hit her palate. Her eyes closed on their own accord.

Half aware of floating in the air, she leaned her head against the solid object. “Rain?”

“Taking you home, babe.”

No one had ever carried her before that she could remember. Maybe her dad had before — she forced the thought out of her head and enjoyed the rocking motion Rain created instead. He could be nice when he wanted to be. He’d proven it twice now.

Chapter Eight

Tori knew the moment she woke up that something wasn’t right. Afraid to move and give away her position, she tried to determine why everything felt different. The room’s temperature, cooler than what she was used to in her stuffy cabin, made the heat radiating against her back more pronounced.

She stiffened. Her eyes opened. Her head came up. Her mouth widened. Then she scrambled to her knees on the bed and stared into Rain’s dark eyes.

“What are you doing here?” She glanced down and grabbed the blanket, covering herself.

The naked lust in his eyes made her feel vulnerable even though she was glad to see she still wore the sundress she put on last night. “God, what did we do?”

He chuckled, pushing himself off the hide-a-bed. “Settle down.”

“Settle … ?” She gaped. “Are you joking? This isn’t funny. I didn’t bring you home last night. I wouldn’t have done such a thing. Ever.”

“Are you sure?” He grabbed his shirt off the chair.

When she tried to remember, the heaviness in her head returned. She sank down on her bottom and stared at the sheet on her makeshift bed. She hadn’t even taken the time to put the bedding on or pull the couch apart to check the condition of the mattress. She shivered. Who knew what gross crawly things lived in the bed?

She glanced over at Rain, but he’d disappeared into the bathroom. The pile of leather clothing draped over a stool in the corner seemed out of place. That wasn’t …

“Rain!” She winced as her head rebelled at the noise.

He walked out of the bathroom with a toothbrush in his hand. She pointed at the room. “This is not my cabin.”

“True.” He smiled as if it was cute of her to notice.

“It’s yours?”

“Yeah.” He studied the room. “You drank too much. I took care of you.”

She frowned, thinking over what she could remember. Her cheeks warmed, and apparently she could remember a lot. “For your information, I don’t drink. Well, I do, but not to get drunk. Ever.”

“You say that word a lot. Haven’t you ever heard you’re never supposed to say ever?” He grinned.

“Never say never,” she corrected him.

“So, you’ve heard it?” He handed her the toothbrush. “Just opened it for you. It’s new. Thought it might make you feel better if you could brush your teeth. Once you’re done, we’ll talk.”

“I’m being serious.” She crawled off the bed, her panic rising. “I’ll drink to relax, and I’ll even admit to laughing a lot when I drink, but I never do drunk. I sure in hell would know not to sleep in someone else’s cabin.”

“I got that, babe. Don’t beat it dead. It’s over.”

She stared at him. He had no clue how serious a situation she had on her hands. She didn’t sleep with men or spend time with them. Wanting to escape him and her embarrassment, she hurried into the bathroom. She found the toothpaste, brushed, used the toilet, washed her face, and returned to the main part of the cabin.

Rain stood in front of the stove and motioned her closer. She hesitantly approached him, preferring to leave and forget about waking up in his room. When she stopped an arm’s length away, he reached for her hand. Against her better judgment, she let him pull her beside him and even allowed his hand to stay on her lower back.

He watched the pot of boiling water. “We need to talk.”

“About what?”

“You. Me. Us.”

“Us?” she said, trying to step away. “I know you’re not stupid, Rain. Please, stop saying that.”

He pulled her closer. “You gave me cookie dough.”

“That doesn’t make us best friends.” She shook her head. “God, I feel like I’m dreaming, and any moment I’ll wake up, and you’ll be gone. I’ll be … somewhere else.”

“I’m making breakfast. You’ll feel better once you eat.” He shot her a look that turned softer the longer he gazed at her.

She turned around and stared at the rumpled bed. “How about we don’t? I need to go change clothes and open the coffee shop.”

“Already done. Taylor’s got your business covered and is making coffee for your customers.”

She whirled around, grabbed the counter to slow the dizziness coming over her. “She doesn’t know how to make
my
coffee. How did she get inside?”

“Relax. She’s telling your customers you have the day off. They’ll understand, and be back for your coffee when you’re feeling better. This is Pitnam — they keep their business local.” He stirred oatmeal into the boiling water. “I found your keys in your purse and let her inside. Nice setup. Hell of a wagon.”

“It’s not a wagon. It’s a trailer.” She inhaled deeply and closed her eyes a moment. “This can’t be happening.”

“You like to argue,” he said.

“No, but I don’t like not having control,” she said.

He carried two steaming bowls to the table. “Eat. It’ll make you feel better. Then we’ll talk.”

“I’m not hungry,” she whispered.

“Babe … ” He lowered his voice and muttered, “Don’t want to have to tell you twice.”

She walked over and plopped down at the table. Unsure if she could force a bite down her throat, she propped her head in her hand and leaned on her elbow. He was the bossiest person she knew.

The bowl of oatmeal sat in front of her. He reached over with his spoon, made an indention in the middle of the mush, poured a couple teaspoons of milk in the hole, sprinkled sugar and cinnamon in the milk, and with a stern nod, motioned for her to eat.

Any thought of food in her stomach made her nauseated. She wrinkled her nose. “I’m not a big fan of oatmeal.”

“Trust me.” To show her, he took a bite and smiled. “Try it.”

With reluctance, she brought the spoon to her mouth and scraped the oatmeal off the utensil with her top teeth, grimacing. She swallowed, pleased it went down easily. He grinned before ducking his chin and going back to eating out of his own bowl. She continued, and a few minutes later, she’d finished every bite.

“You were right. That was good.” She leaned away. “Thank you.”

“It’s the cinnamon.” He pushed his bowl forward and leaned his elbows on the table. “My dad drank a lot growing up. It helped him on rough mornings.”

“Oh.” She bit her lower lip, not liking that he’d had the experience of taking care of a parent who drank to excess. She wondered who’d parented the child Rain. “I don’t normally drink. I don’t want you to think I’m a lush. I’m not. I don’t even know why I started last night.”

“I forced you to drink, babe,” he whispered.

“You? Why?”

“That’s what we need to talk about. Last night, I found you hiding under my desk.” He reached out and grabbed her wrist when she moved to get up.

“I need to open the Coffee Shack,” she said.

“Tough.” His thumb stroked the back of her hand. “Tori … when someone’s scared and loses themselves inside their head, something major’s going on. I’m guessing something’s been going on for a long time for you to close yourself off. It took me forcing whiskey down you to thaw you out. I’ll tell you now, I don’t like having to do that. We need to fix what’s going through your head so it doesn’t happen again.”

“What?” She shook her head. “I’d never drink whiskey. There were lemons … ”

The night’s happenings tickled her memory. Her chest tightened, and she pulled in air through her nose, worried that if she opened her mouth, she’d be sick. What had she done?

“What did you see last night?” He kept stroking, caressing her hand.

She dropped her gaze. “Nothing.”

“You saw everyone outside … ”

“No.” She glanced away.

“Taylor sent you inside the bar.”

She pulled her arm, and he finally let her retreat. Thinking he was done interrogating her, she stood.

“Did the Lagsturns scare you?” He followed her away from the table into the sitting area of the one-room cabin. “Did one of the men hurt you?”

She searched the floor for her sandals. “I need to go.”

Finding her shoes under the hide-a-bed, she slipped them on and hurried to the door. She turned the handle and paused. “Thank you for helping me last night,” she whispered.

“Tori?”

She refused to turn around and witness the pity she heard in his voice. Instead, she waited, giving him her attention. “Yeah?”

“I’ll be over in an hour to walk you to the Coffee Shack. I’ll walk you back when you close,” he said.

She nodded, because it was easier than arguing. Then she slipped out the door.

It took all her reserve not to run to her cabin. Sheer panic, the kind that made her muscles freeze in place and her heart race until she thought she’d explode, filled her whole body. She had to leave. Today.

Pitnam was no longer safe, and even though she’d wanted to stay the three months she’d agreed to in the contract, she couldn’t. Not even her new friendship with Rain could convince her to remain in a place where people shot at each other, and she woke up in someone else’s bed.

Chapter Nine

The fifteen top participating members of the Bantorus club gathered inside Cactus Cove. Rain finished assigning everyone to different areas around town. Two riders to patrol a square mile upped the coverage from the norm. Typically, one rider kept an eye on the north side of Pitnam and another biker watched the south.

With Lagsturns in their territory, he wouldn’t take another chance of letting them rally. Especially not in his own damned parking lot.

“Torque, you’re on watch outside. I want Tori covered twenty-four/seven.” He motioned to Ronny and Slade. “All three of you. Round the clock, alternating hours, figure out who does when, and let me know. I don’t want anyone falling down on the job, got it?”

Everyone nodded. He turned as the front door opened. Surprised to see Tori step inside, he momentarily lost what he was saying. Ignoring the others, he stayed behind the counter, keeping his eye on Tori. She hurried toward Gladys.
Damn.

He continued to watch her as he closed the meeting. He lowered his voice. “I’ll take over after the bar closes until six.”

“Got it, boss.” Torque moved away and punched Ronny on the shoulder. “Going out now, and plan on enjoying the sunshine. Nice day for a ride.”

Damn it, he’d forgotten to talk with Gladys about her okaying Tori’s stay in the cabin. Gladys knew he was the only one who assigned members a cabin. They weren’t damn rentals for every single woman who was traveling through town. He’d have to deal with that after he removed Tori from the bar again.