Hold Me Down Read online

  He pulls me more firmly onto his lap. I wriggle until I’m straddling him, knees sinking into the couch, looking down on him a little. He grins and slips his hands under my shirt to cup my breasts. He pushes the shirt up further and I grab the hem to finish the job. It drifts to the ground as I thread my hands behind his neck, pushing my breasts closer to his face. He weighs them in his palms, yanks my bra down so my breasts spill out over the top of the cups and squeezes them roughly, then soothes them with the drag of his thumbs. My nipples are hard points in seconds and a sharp ache builds between my legs. I sink down to press that ache against the hard ridge bulging behind his zipper. He draws one stiff nipple into his mouth at my urging and suddenly we’re making out in the living room like teenagers, frantic and messy. His fingers dig into the tender flesh of my belly as he tries to pop the button at the top of my fly. He curses, a soft brush of whisker and breath against my cheek, and yanks at the waistband. “Open your damn pants so I can get my hands on your pussy.”

  My pants slip easily over my hips once I’m standing, and I hook my fingers into my underwear, taking them down too.

  I’m naked in front of him except for my mangled bra. Somehow that’s cruder than total nudity and my body flushes with heat. As I reach behind me to unclasp it, my fingers shake. Not from fear, from desire. From eager anticipation. I might as well be completely exposed, while he sits before me fully clothed. And he said he loves me.

  He hooks his arm around my thigh and pulls me back toward him so I wobble, fall forward, and have to steady myself on his shoulders. He likes doing that, keeping me off balance. He did it in my apartment, in his room. He’ll keep doing it. Making me stumble and holding me steady.

  Forever. Love.

  He spreads his legs, forcing my knees further apart.

  “You know there’s a word for what you’re doing, right?”

  “Foreplay.”

  “Manspreading.”

  He laughs and slides a hand up my inner thigh and teases his way up to my pussy. “I’m the only man spreading this from now on, little warrior. Got it?”

  I nod my agreement.

  He traces over the seam of my sex, humming his approval when he finds me wet.

  “When we have a place…” his finger delves deeper, gathering moisture at my entrance and slipping it up to circle my clit. He never takes his eyes off my face, just traces lazy loops over and around that bundle of nerves. I bite my lip against the pleasure, afraid my moans might keep him from finishing what he’d started to say.

  When we have a place, I silently urge him to continue as I buck my hips. Then his finger is inside me, curved and deep, stroking me from the inside, beckoning. His thumb skips over my clit and I dig my fingers into his shoulders. I can’t hold back. “God that feels good.”

  “I know, baby. You feel like heaven. S’why I’ll want you naked all the time. As soon as our door shuts behind you—no clothes.”

  Our door. Noah dreaming about our future while he pumps his fingers inside me. I’m already on fire, but a new warmth—syrupy and sweet—spreads out from my chest up to my cheeks. “That might not be very practical. I might want to cook a BLT or answer the door for a delivery.”

  His lips slide into a smile as he brushes them over my breast, eyes still on my face, fingers still stroking.

  “We’d come up with some exceptions.” He grins, a flash of even white teeth, and then he nips the plump curve.

  Fuck, I want this life. The one where Noah is smiling into my naked skin in our imagined home and I’m making BLTs for dinner. Sexy and sweet. Loved. Forever. I feel it like a thundering in my chest, a pulse between my legs, a hot ball of need in my belly.

  It’s terrifying how much I want it. Wanting anything this much means I don’t get to have it—don’t deserve it.

  His phone chirps and it sounds exactly like fate snatching everything I want away.

  He slips it from his pocket with his left hand, his right hand still working between my legs. After a glance at the screen, he drops it on the couch beside us and reaches up to stroke my cheek, as if to smooth away my disappointment. “I gotta check, babe. Unless I’m balls deep or dying. It’s all good. Stone made it to the club okay.”

  “This is how it’ll always be, isn’t it? Late night phone calls. People dying. I don’t think I can…”

  Noah goes very still. “What are you saying?”

  The words tumble out in a rush before I can think better of them. “Leave with me. Before the club votes. I’m terrified they’ll kill you.”

  His eyes darken. “That’s not going to happen.”

  I run my fingers over his hair, along his neck. I don’t even see the whorls of ink covering him anymore. It’s all just…him. Mine. “No. But if they’ll even hold a vote about whether to kill you now? If they’ve got your life in their hands like that? It’s never over. We’re never safe.”

  “You still don’t get it. It’s not supposed to be one way, Star. They hold my life because I hold theirs. We have faith in each other.”

  “I’m not strong enough for that kind of faith.”

  He works a second finger inside me, then a third, filling and stretching. His thumb is firm against my clit. Insistent. An irresistible force. “I’ve got enough for the both of us.”

  I want to believe him more than anything. I want to let go and accept. I want to stay. But it’s too hard. Staying is how I get hurt. How I end up trapped in a room like a rabid dog, holding a gun I’m too scared to use. If I stay here I’ll only lose him. Maybe not tonight, but eventually.

  And still he works between my legs. Winding me tighter and tighter.

  “I can’t.” I cry as the orgasm tears through me and I collapse against Noah’s chest.

  He strokes my hair while I tremble with the aftershocks. “You can do so much more than you think.”

  “Don’t give me a choice, Noah. Hold me down or send me away. If I have to choose, I’ll break both of our hearts.”

  His laugh rumbles over me, dark and wistful. “I don’t know if it’s sad or sweet that you think the club will let you go after what happened with Wade. That you think I’ll let you go after…everything.”

  “You could help me. You said you love me.”

  “And you’d go, just like that?” He pulls free of the clenching muscles of my sex and sucks his fingers clean. One by one. All the heat in his eyes is replaced with cold fire.

  I can’t answer him. I can only watch his face for any sign that he understands how hard all this is to understand.

  “This house was supposed to be a refuge for my mother, insulation from the club. It ended up being a prison because there is no escape. I thought maybe…” He shakes his head and brushes a damp finger, still intimately musky, over my cheek. “Doesn’t matter what I thought. Cover yourself up. It’s time to head back for the vote. I never should’ve left in the first place.”

  Chapter Six

  Noah leads me through the club with his hand on the small of my back, possessive but mechanical. I don’t dare question him in front of anyone before the vote, but I hate every second of it. I hate that his touch is cold and his jaw is tight. I hate that I can’t feel his eyes on me. I hate that this could be the last time I see him.

  He drops me in his room back at the club.

  “Have a seat.” He nudges me toward the bed.

  “I…” I’m not sure what I want to say. That I’m sad and angry and scared? That I hate the way his face is a grim mask? That I want him to yell or cuss or do any fucking thing except freeze me out?

  He stares at the wall behind me.

  “If anyone wants to hear from you during the meeting, a prospect will come and get you like before.”

  “Anyone? What about you, Noah? Do you want to hear what I have to say?” I seethe through gritted teeth. For the first time in this whole ordeal, I feel like actual luggage. Empty. Property. I watch the muscles in his jaw flex. The slight narrowing of his eyes. He doesn’t answer though. The fucker.<
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  “What happens to me if they decide to kill you?”

  “Such faith in me.” He snarls. “If I’m dead it won’t be my problem, will it?”

  All the sweet words he’d spoken crash like glass around me. “But—”

  “But nothing. You know exactly what’ll happen. You’re a sweet piece of ass. Someone’ll take you.” He spits. “And you’re just a scared little girl so you’ll be happy to be kept.”

  The door shuts with a quiet, definitive click.

  “At least slam it, asshole,” I shout, balling my fists in the bedspread. Wrapping it around me like armor against Noah’s cold disregard, against my memory of gruff bikers crowded around a table deciding his fate.

  His fate is supposed to belong to me.

  I press my face into the sheets and inhale deeply. Our scents are mingled there—our bodies, the musk of our sex. Sweat, come, tears. It should be disgusting, but it isn’t. It’s…us.

  I should’ve told him I loved him when I had the chance. When his fingers were inside me and we were laughing and dreaming. Before the club got between us. Again. Because this cold, asshole version of Noah, the one who can’t seem to muster enough passion to slam the damn door? That bastard is never hearing those three little words cross my lips.

  I just hope he lives long enough for me to inform him of this development. But I’m sure as hell not sitting here in the corner like a toddler on the naughty bench, waiting around to find out.

  Ella’s keys are still on top of Noah’s dresser. Her car is still parked out front. I could just…return her car. I did promise to get it back to her. At least it’s something useful. And bonus points if Noah worries about me a little while I’m gone.

  I snatch the keys and hold my breath. Please don’t be locked. Please don’t be locked. The knob turns without hesitation and I slip out into the dark hallway. I walk with purpose toward the bar. Drew’s holding court with a group of women. She waves. “Star, get over here. I got some bitches you need to meet.”

  My heart clenches. I want to meet them. I do. This is exactly the kind of invitation I’d have hoped for. But I need to hurry the hell up before someone realizes Noah doesn’t want me wandering around. “Just gotta grab something out of the car. Be right back.”

  The lie feels heavy on my tongue. God. They’re going to be so scared when I don’t come right back. For a second I consider confiding in Drew. She’d been so kind to me that first morning I spent out in the club. She’d understand. Wouldn’t she?

  “Watch out for the big bad wolf.” One of the women calls out.

  “Excuse me?”

  Drew laughs. “The old lot dog. His name is Wolf. Don’t worry. He’s all bark, very little bite.”

  “You’d know all about old dogs, Drew.” The same one who’d called to me teases. “I sure as shit hope Zig still bites.”

  And just like that they’re back to their conversation. Smiling and drinking while the whole world could be falling apart. While their men are in a back room deciding Noah’s fate. No. I won’t tell them anything.

  I push through the heavy door and step into the night. Into freedom. Into a cold that settles into my bones almost instantly.

  Wolf is nowhere to be seen, though he could be winding through the rows of motorcycles. Dogs freak me out. Mostly because I’ve never been around them. But I’m a warrior now, and no self-respecting warrior would be afraid of an old dog. I hug myself and pretend I’m not worried.

  I get three steps into the parking lot before a gruff voice blasts me from behind. “Where do you think you’re going?”

  The hand on my shoulder a second later doesn’t surprise me. The stench of body odor and a sickly sweet rag against my mouth as soon as I turn to answer does. This is not the wolf they’d warned me about.

  Chapter Seven

  My head pounds and my bottom aches. I don’t know exactly how long I’ve been sitting on cold concrete in the musty corner of a basement, but it’s long enough for me to have gone numb in places. Dale hadn’t bothered to tie me up, so I push myself to my feet and assess my surroundings.

  Giant cans of ketchup and pickled beets. Boxes of soda fountain syrup. The safe. I know where I am before I see the big folding table where the cooks and bus boys sometimes get together to play cards. This is the basement of Jimmy’s Grill.

  Of course. Dale hadn’t just been in bed with The Jokers. He’d been in bed with dirty Wade. That’s how Wade had known Noah was busy. How he’d known where to find me.

  The wooden stairs leading down from the kitchen above creak under the heavy weight of boots.

  “You’re a pain in the ass, little girl.” Dale calls out from above. “But you’re my ticket out of this bullshit. I’m going to trade you for my life. And for a nice chunk of cash to continue that life.”

  “Noah doesn’t give a shit about me. Just the club. I’m worthless.” I snap before thinking better of it. My life depends on him thinking I’m valuable.

  He spits tobacco juice directly on the floor and pulls a joint out of the front pocket on his shirt. With trembling hands he flicks a lighter, takes a deep drag, and blows a billowing cloud of sweet smoke. “Nothing that belongs to The Devil’s Host is worthless.”

  The truth in his words is not exactly a comfort. I bite my tongue.

  “Any minute now they’ll be here to collect you and I’ll have my walking papers.” He blows another smoke cloud and seems to deflate a little, his body relaxing as the pot loosens his muscles. I know that feeling. A little far away. A little floaty. “Just gotta keep everything real chill until then. Just gotta take the edge off.”

  I don’t know if he’s telling me that or reassuring himself. While his eyes drift shut as he takes another drag, I scan the area for anything I can use as a weapon. A mop handle. A meat mallet. Anything. There’s nothing in my reach except for a gallon jug of bleach. I grab it and hold it out in front of me, unsure of what exactly I might do with it. Hit him? Splash him in the eyes? I’d have to get the cap off for that.

  “Easy now, girl. I’m not going to hurt you. As much as I’d like to spend that kind of quality time with you, I think Noah wouldn’t feel real generous if I broke his favorite toy.”

  “I’m not a damn toy. Fuck you, you nasty traitor.” My hands are shaking but I somehow manage to get the safety cap screwed off.

  Dale laughs. “Want to wash my tighty whiteys? Just ask.”

  “I’d rather blind you.” Then I rush him and swing the jug as hard as I can. Bleach splashes everywhere, the chemical smell stinging my nose, and the heavy plastic container cracks into the side of his skull with a thunk. “Or knock you out.”

  “That was…” Dale takes two wobbly steps backwards and shakes his head. “That was not…”

  I don’t wait for him to get his bearings back or to finish his thought. I run for the stairs, taking them two at a time, and picking up a splinter in my palm when I forget that the middle section of the railing is rough. I squeeze my hand into a tight ball against the pain, driving the splinter deeper.

  The kitchen is dark, but the back door is propped open. I run for that too. And slam into a brick wall on the other side. A leather clad brick wall. Or Noah’s chest. Same difference.

  “Thank God, you’re okay.” There’s real fear in his voice. And genuine relief. He hauls me up so my feet aren’t touching the ground and buries his face in my neck. “I’ve been so fucking worried. Hours, Star. There were whole goddamn hours where I had no idea where you were or what was happening to you. Un. Fucking. Acceptable.”

  Stone and two other guys run past us, into the bowels of the restaurant. I don’t want to know what they’re going to do down there. But I do. They’re going to finish what I started. Dale will never fuck with me again. Or the club. I close my eyes and sink into Noah’s embrace. The scent of bleach still harsh in my nose.

  “I’m okay.” I breathe. “You’re okay? I was worried about you too.” And pissed and hurt. But I don’t say any of that. Because this
is the Noah I wanted all along. The one who cares. The one who holds me like I’m his heart.

  “So worried that you took off?” His tone is annoyed but he doesn’t stop squeezing me.

  “I wasn’t going to go for long. I just wanted to return Ella’s car and…let you miss me a little bit.” It sounds more ridiculous than I’d imagined. I keep babbling. “You hurt me, Noah. One minute you’re melting me from the inside out with sweet words and sweeter touches. The next… ice cold, all business.”

  He squeezes me tighter still. “You wanted to leave.”

  “With you, Noah. I wanted to leave with you. That’s what I wanted.”

  He helps me get on the back of his bike, just like the first time. With furtive finger brushes and careful arrangement. “Is that what you still want?” He asks, his voice eerily steady.

  I can’t answer until he sets the helmet on my head, shielding me from his searching gaze. Blocking out the muffled noises from the basement as Stone, fresh from jail, carries out a death sentence for the club. My words are just barely more than a whisper. And god it hurts to choke them out. “I don’t know.”

  Chapter Eight

  I drive to Ella’s in silence, hyper-aware of Noah cruising behind me on his sleek black bike like a horseman of the apocalypse. When he’d agreed to let me return her car I hadn’t realized he planned to babysit me. It felt strange but in a good way. He’s taking care of me again. And as long as we don’t talk about the future, there’s none of the eerie calm voice that scares the crap out of me.

  I pull up under the carport, careful not to bump the small plastic swimming pool full of tub toys, and hop out to meet up with Noah. Both of us look right at home in front of Ella’s trailer with its hardscrabble yard and weathered aluminum siding.

  We take the concrete steps together and the screen door of her trailer slams shut behind a towheaded kid who looks about five or six years old. “Mama, there are strangers at the door.”