Savage Outlaw (Renegade Souls MC Romance Saga Book 8) Page 5

  Bombs dropping in war torn countries didn’t make as much destruction as that little sentence did. Roux was left slack jawed as he walked off. Surprised, hurt and hating that she didn’t hate him, not even a little bit.

  He’d always been the kind of man who didn’t need to raise his voice to get his point across. His voice made you pay attention no matter how low in tone it was.

  Damn him.

  She needed to get drunk, she decided.

  Wash him away in vodka and tequila.

  For that she needed her friend, so she’d make a call, get lousy drunk, fall asleep on Poppy’s couch, and then start this whole week again.

  Pretend she never saw Tad at all.

  First though, she had a lot of money to hide in her bedroom safe.

  Priorities were imperative for a Tucker.

  SIX

  “Things that go bang in the night.” - Butcher

  “He’s a toad.” Proclaimed Poppy vehemently.

  For a sweet girl it was pretty badass of her. Her tipsy voice rose over the bar and had a few hardened criminal type men looking their way.

  “He’s the slime on a toad. No, he’s the slimy pimple on a toad.”

  Roux’s friend seemed so pleased with the put down that Roux chuckled.

  “Your shit talking needs some work, Cinderella.”

  “I know. That’s what Tait says.” God save Roux from Poppy who blushed every time she mentioned her man’s name. They were in love and it was cute but give her a break. “But sometimes, someone is a down and dirty toad.”

  This was true.

  Tad though? He was far from a toad.

  He’d been a rogue Prince Charming, coming to her rescue when he wrecked her car, despite his claims even to this day, it was all his fault. He was a dark knight in leather and charm, and he’d ruined her for all men.

  Bigger badasses had tried to win Roux’s attention and failed miserably. Because of him.

  She wished he did resemble a toad.

  Enough bitching to Poppy, she swallowed a sip of her drink and pushed Tad to the back of her mind.

  “Is Reno still insisting you’re engaged?”

  Ugh.

  Another contention of her irritation.

  Her family had gone crazy.

  Axel Tucker, declaring to the entire damn club that she was engaged to Reno, nearly sent her into a flying fit. She hadn’t spoken to either man since, not that Reno let up. He called and tried to make dinner plans, wanting to know where she was. He whistled at her through the club like she was a dog to come to heel. She threw up her middle finger and ignored him.

  What the hell they were up to she didn’t know, but she didn’t like being used as a pawn. Her dad would figure out how not cool this was when she packed her bags and moved out. He’d probably whine about who would cook his dinner and make sure the cable got paid. Tough for him. Her dad was the biggest bastard in the world, but for Roux, he was a giant teddy bear.

  Well he was, until he chained her to a complete moron, after twenty-one years of telling any biker that if they so much as breathed near her, they’d lose their cock and balls.

  “I’m ignoring him.”

  “Which one is he again? The broody one?” Poppy sipped daintily from a bottle. After the drugging incident she only drank from closed bottles now. Roux bet Texas was at home pacing waiting for Poppy to get home. He’d become a gorilla protector even worse than before.

  “No, that’s his twin, Ruin.”

  The pair were almost a carbon copy of each other, apart from their personalities which were day and night. Plus, Ruin didn’t speak. At all. Sometimes to his twin, but only if no one else was around to hear him. Roux couldn’t even remember what Ruin’s voice sounded like, she assumed it was like Reno’s but couldn’t say for sure.

  He didn’t scare Roux, but his demeanor didn’t give her warm fuzzy feelings either. He had invisible barb wire around his surface, and he wore it as a warning to stay the fuck away. She’d speculated if it were only Reno keeping his twin stable, like if Reno was not around, Ruin would go terrorist on himself and self-destruct.

  She’d wear Reno’s ring the day her dad came home with a pet cow.

  Speaking of.

  “Is Texas still claiming he’s getting rid of the goat?”

  Poppy beamed. “He talks a lot of crap for a man who gets out of bed at 2 a.m. to take Glenn Coco to potty. They’re at home now, Glenn is snuggling on Tait’s feet.”

  Sure enough, Poppy turned around her phone to show Roux the picture on screen. A pygmy goat fast asleep on a pair of bare feet.

  “You totally tamed that biker.”

  Another pleased beam from her friend. “I did, didn’t I?”

  Cinderella’s of the world had all the luck.

  Maybe it was the way she tried to push certain assholes out of her mind that made her do it.

  Maybe it was her alcohol induced warmness that was to blame.

  Who knows the real reason, but after Roux dropped Poppy off at home to snuggle with her man and goat, she drove not far from there and parked around the block.

  Before she knew it, she was creeping to a front door.

  The large bungalow was in darkness.

  With a few wiggles of the iron spike she always kept in her glove compartment for emergencies and you know…breaking and entering, the lock clicked open.

  Adrenaline pulsed with her running heartbeat.

  What was she doing?

  Roux got to her feet, contemplating her next move, looking around to make sure no one was watching. The house wasn’t situated close enough for nosy neighbors but in the age of drones and spy cams, there was no telling who was watching.

  It wasn’t too late to turn around and pretend this impulsive mistake didn’t happen. As she let herself inside the dark entryway, seeing two pairs of banged up boots lined up against the wall, she knew she wasn’t turning back.

  Roux wasn’t tipsy, but something other than liquor controlled her cat burglar skills.

  Stupid feelings.

  Walking quietly, she turned left and entered the main living room.

  It was lovely what she could see of it. The massive TV mounted above a brick fireplace was the focal point, of course. Two sectional sofas in L shapes faced it and there was a dark wood coffee table on top of a large floor rug in the middle. Cushions and pictures, photo frames she itched to look at. Was there any of her, she wondered?

  Ha, fat chance.

  She couldn’t recall taking any pictures together.

  Their few trysts, as she’s started calling them, were fast hits and leave moments. These perfect pieces of bliss and happiness and then they were over. There was no real time for dates, walking around a fairground or taking stupid photos of each other. They’d never gone grocery shopping or to get tattoos together. She always wished he were with her on the yearly bike rallies too. They’d never done anything normal other than sneak around, fuck and then pretend it never happened.

  Her petty resentment started to bloom in her chest as she took in his home.

  The place was so tidy. How was it that he was such a neat freak? She was a slob in comparison, taking days sometimes to pick clothes up off the floor. And that was only when she was down to her rattiest pair of leggings and needed to do laundry.

  The cause being she was raised by a pack of lazy, junk food eating wolves. Who expected someone else—usually a woman—to clean up after them.

  Roux was a facsimile of her family.

  Each of those men had a hand in the coarse woman she was today.

  They taught her how to spit, drink and hot wire a car.

  How to punch with her thumb tucked in and not take bullshit from any guy.

  The quickest way to pick a lock. How to lie, steal, cheat and survive.

  They taught her to be clear headed in times of danger and they were all with her for her first tattoo.

  Nowhere in that tutelage was how to be a homemaker.

  She was far from
clear headed as she walked on silent feet through the spacious Spanish style bungalow.

  It was quaint and lovely, and she felt out of place among the nice things. Following the masculine scent of a subtle cologne so rich it almost made her sway with want.

  Enjoy your engagement.

  That one statement went around and around her head all day.

  He’d acted the victim as though she’d betrayed him. When in fact, he’d had ample time to claim her and did nothing about it.

  The closer she got, the more excited the whip of air through her stomach became.

  She didn’t want to be alone.

  Not tonight.

  Not any night. But the desperate noise of loneliness became too much after seeing him again. She wanted to hate him for the way she felt weak for him, but even that was an impossibility.

  She’d felt marked the day they met.

  She should have told him the whole truth of who she was the moment she knew he was a Renegade Souls. But caught up in Tad’s green eyes and effortless smile, she’d wanted more time with him.

  Unraveling without success from that mess all these years later felt unfair.

  The bedroom door opened without sound, the thick carpet beneath aiding in its opening slowly.

  The bubbling hormones she’d managed to hold at bay for so long started to clatter and raise holy hell in her body.

  Demanding.

  Seeking.

  Longing for.

  He was in bed. That much she could see.

  Sprawled on his back. Chest bare, an arm slung casually over his head with dark blankets pushed down to his waist showcasing the arousing V grooves.

  Her needy eyes sought him out. Hungering desperately for any new fix.

  She was pathetic to be here, yet she was unlacing her boots and not turning around to leave.

  It was spite grabbing her in its electric hold as she looked at the sprawling bed, the headboard halfway up to the ceiling, and got her wondering how many had played in those sheets with him.

  Unbelievable now that they had four years of history between them. And eight months since he plastered her to a motel wall and fucked her brains out so desperately.

  Sparks ignited that night. It was as obvious as her breath they were both there to fuck.

  The worry in his eyes was clear. She felt it in the snap of his fingers as he pulled the clothes off her back and possessed her body with a single minded determination to fully ruin her for any happiness for the rest of her fucking life.

  Eight long months since she’d felt his weight on top of her.

  There was a frantic beat to her nerves as she skinned out of her clothes. The only thing she was left wearing was a silver necklace dangling between her breasts. She clutched the chain like a talisman.

  Her heart racing with an edgy knock, making it next to impossible to draw in a decent breath.

  She was in Tad’s orbit once again, breathing seemed irrelevant.

  Hurt and angry with him and yet the craving drove her on.

  The longing was a taste on her tongue she couldn’t ignore.

  Not tonight.

  It was only minutes—three or four at most from the time she broke in to gingerly keeling up onto the bed. She paused, looking for any sign he was awake and then Roux continued. Pulling back the thick comforter, it was warm as if he’d been in bed for hours.

  When she was in touching distance of that great big body, heat shot to her core, making her fingers itch to trace every inch of his skin. It looked like he’d added to his tattoos and she wanted a light on to inspect them up close.

  He smelled amazing of soap and cologne. The urge to bury her nose somewhere on his skin was a real need but her fingers trailed over his hard stomach first.

  It was sad to think of all the times they’d fucked; she’d hardly had a minute to savor the long rangy body of his. They’d fallen on each other like starved dogs and were never afforded time to explore what was really between them outside of a bed.

  When his lips parted on an exhale, Roux held her own breath.

  He wasn’t ‘roid muscular, but he was exercise kind of solid and she was a little lightheaded feasting her gaze on him.

  Tad had many attributes that she’d been attracted to. Not least of all his possessive personality. He was charming and hazardous, especially to her. An imposing man who demanded respect from his presence alone. Intimidating, funny and gentle, tender with her.

  She hated and loved the memories she stored of him.

  But she was only focusing on the physicality right now as her greedy hands wandered over his torso. She was practically vibrating out of her skin when a hand suddenly shot up from the bed and caught at her wrist.

  Not tight, but the hold made sure she couldn’t fall off the bed when she screamed.

  Twin headlight eyes looked at her from the position on his pillow. He hadn’t moved a muscle to indicate he’d been awake.

  Roux’s heart was clattering loudly. The lust drowning her.

  “What’s your next move, Cookie?” The tone was raspy enough to have her moaning before she fell on him.

  SEVEN

  “Two bangs don’t make a right.” - Roux

  Roux would question later, after the desire dissipated, why he didn’t act like it was a home invasion, not even for a shocked second before recognition hit.

  Tad’s mouth plundered hers, taking her to a place only he could, she moaned and grasped two tight fists full of his hair. Letting herself be swept away in lust. The desire for him choked her as he roughly ripped open her legs and forced her to straddle him.

  Hard met soft.

  Moans constricted her airways.

  Close enough to kiss. Close enough to bite and lick to her heart’s content. Finally. She’d forgotten—or maybe not, just how big of a man Tad was. He towered well over six feet and a few inches more when he was standing. It was his wide chest and tapered waist she loved best of all. He was straight lines and hard muscle.

  She held her breath, searching his eyes as she almost…almost touched his face. Her breasts brushed his chest as she leaned over him, and hotness shot straight to her core with greedy pulses.

  It felt as though she’d wanted him forever.

  Despite the obstacles in her way, being told she couldn’t be with him. Roux didn’t doubt that he wanted her too, but it was only in secret he acted on it. Only those pockets of time when they crashed together and fed a need within.

  She hated that she wanted him so badly.

  Hated more that he never went against the bylaws to be with her.

  Tad was the kind of man who could rip a heart to shreds and do it with a smile, unknowing of the damage he wielded.

  He wasn’t an unkind man, far from it, but it didn’t make the pain any less true.

  He was killing her in short bursts, but it felt like a drug to be near him.

  Some addictions didn’t come in pill bottles. Some came with green eyes and callused hands.

  Pure lust gushed inside her so violently that she grew dizzy.

  With shaking fingers, she ran them up his abs with a feather touch to prove this wasn’t one of her more vivid dreams. She curled her fingers into his chest, as if she could claw her way through his skin to his cold beating heart.

  Knowing down to the last minute when she was last astride him like this. It wasn’t in their motel room. That was fast, hard, consuming and against the wall and then again bent over the bed.

  No, the last time she’d been this way it was her birthday. Drunk and horny.

  It was a good birthday. He’d brought her cake.

  Leaning in, she traced her nose against his chest, inhaling his masculine scent. It was pure intoxication.

  A hand curled around her throat, holding her in place.

  In a fast switcharoo, she was now spread beneath Tad, her legs opened and him between them. Her quick pulse was felt everywhere but she tipped her chin up defiantly, ready to be kicked out, daring him to. He pushed d
own once, ramming his hardness to her pussy and like that, her surrender caved. And it felt fantastic.

  “Roux,” he breathed. “Please don’t torture me.”

  Her heart cracked. Her arousal increased. There was no turning back now.

  They were so close, sharing the same breath, the stubble darkened his jawline. Her fingers roamed over his hard jawline, feeling the muscles flex.

  There was no telling what he’d do or say. But there was no mistaking how hard he was between her legs. Pleasure fizzled straight up to her hairline and danced along her spine, making her bend in the middle and rub shamelessly against him.

  His hand on her throat tightened and Roux moaned with longing.

  The thirst was real. It was rampant in her blood.

  What did that say about her that she’d broken in like a dirty pervert for sex?

  This fucking man, she wanted to want anyone but him, but there it was.

  Her lips brushed his and it was only then that Tad growled.

  “If I fuck you now, no one else ever will. Make your choice, Roux.”

  God, he is such a man.

  There was no way she’d share with him that there’d been no one else because if she did, she’d want to know the faceless women who he might have had in this very bed.

  She’d be murderous.

  All she could mentally concentrate on was scratching her itch. Ridding the need from her system so she could live again instead of existing in a fog of hope.

  The sad, ironic truth of this was, he could have had Roux any time he wanted over these past four years; he’d chosen the easy road by not doing a thing. And now as much as her feelings were strong for him, she also hated him too for making her weak.

  He was unforgettable.

  The moan ripped out of Roux, she wrapped both of her arms around his shoulders, and churned her legs underneath him when he stroked his mouth to the side of her neck. She ached so much.

  “Tad…”

  The puff of his air brushed against her lips, and she was already past the point of no return because he tasted so good, so addictive.