“No.”
“I have one of my own. I said before I won’t ever lie to you. I expect the same from you. Don’t ever lie to me. If you do, I’ll walk away without looking back.”
She stared at him for several minutes before nodding. “I agree.” She held her hand for him to shake.
Train stood up so fast he had to catch his chair from falling. Taking the hand she held out, he rushed them from the bar. She didn’t have trouble keeping up with his long strides.
“Where in the hell are we going?”
“We’re going to my room. It’s closer.” He stopped at his motorcycle. Getting on, he turned his head to see she hadn’t gotten on. “We going to do this or not?”
Train thought he saw a vulnerable expression on her face when he had turned around, but when he looked again after starting his bike, it was gone. He assumed it was just a trick of the light in the dark parking lot. Killyama didn’t have a vulnerable bone in her body.
She got on behind him, twining her arms around his waist. “You sure you won’t let me drive your bike?”
“I’m sure.” He peeled out of the parking lot like the hounds of hell were after them. He wanted her in his bed and under him before she could change her mind … or add more demands.
The cool night surrounded them as they rode. Train didn’t even feel it, too excited at having her again. He won a battle against Killyama, and she didn’t even know it. He was going to make sure she would crave him every second she was away. It wouldn’t take long for her to realize The Last Riders could give her something the Destructors couldn’t. Him.
Train almost laughed out loud. She would be begging to become a Last Rider.
5
Killyama stared around the small room as Train removed his shirt. The room was smaller than she had expected, the majority of the space taken over by the large bed and a nightstand that seemed to be an afterthought. Besides that, there was a small desk on one wall. Its surface was clear and neat.
When she had gotten off his bike and climbed the long flight of steps to The Last Riders’ clubhouse, she had told herself she would turn around. Instead, she had meekly followed him inside and up the stairs to his room.
She had expected the main room to have a few of The Last Riders that hadn’t attended the party at Rosie’s, but it was empty as the sounds of their steps echoed hollowly in the silence.
“It’s a small room,” she noted. “You sure no one’s going to come in?”
“No one comes in without knocking unless the door is open.”
“It’s quiet.”
Train sat down on the edge of his bed to take off his boots. Then he unbuttoned his jeans. “Everyone’s at the party or watching TV in the back room.”
“Cool.” She looked around the room again, trying to decide what to do next.
Train reached out and used the bottom of her top to tug her toward him, solving her indecision.
He pushed her midriff top higher. “Do you know how bad I want you?”
Not answering him, Killyama took out the leather band that held his hair back. It fell to his shoulders, giving him a pagan appearance.
She had lied to him when she had told him that sex with him wasn’t that great. She had wanted him again before he had even pulled out of her, and she had spent months reliving the experience.
He would never convince her to leave the Destructors. The Last Riders didn’t have Sex Piston, T.A., Crazy Bitch, and Fat Louise. They also didn’t have Stud. She didn’t know what kind of president Viper was, but Stud had earned her respect, and she liked him. There weren’t too many men she could say that about.
The feel of his mouth on her stomach curled a fissure of awareness between them. Killyama kicked off her boots so she could then kick her clothes away, wanting nothing separating her from the heat of his touch.
Train fell back on the bed sideways, gripping her waist until her pussy was poised over his mouth. He held her easily, dancing his tongue over the lips of her weeping slit. Slowly, he sat her down so he could part her thighs wider.
“Damn, you’re not wasting any time.” She could appreciate a man who knew what he wanted and wasn’t shy taking it.
Unbuttoning her top and taking it off, she tried to catch her breath as her bare breasts heaved. Leaning back, she then placed her hands on the mattress so he could delve his tongue deeper inside of her.
He tongue-fucked her like there was no tomorrow. In her mind, there wouldn’t be. She had promised herself she would take it one day at a time, telling herself she could do him and keep her shit together. However, she hated to admit that him calling her psycho had actually scored a hit.