His silence and the blank expression on his face were answer enough.
Despite expecting this exact reaction, despite saying these things with the intention of getting him away from me, it hurt. Stung through the layers of armor and steel I’d constructed through the years. Stung in such a way it punctured the wave of desperation I had for a fix.
“Yeah,” I whispered, jutting my chin up defiantly, doing my best to act like the rejection didn’t bother me. “I’m glad to see the ugliness of my reality has finally shown you the truth. Now that you’ve seen what I am, you can get on with your life and leave me the fuck alone.” I stepped forward with the intention of skirting around him and running all the way to fucking Mexico.
But that plan was thwarted when his hand darted out to snatch my arm and hindered my escape. I was too surprised to struggle, to say anything, not that he gave me the chance. He whirled me around to face him and yanked me into his body, plastering every inch of his torso with mine before claiming my mouth. People said that, claiming, and I didn’t understand it. Okay, I turned my nose up at those people and called them soppy assholes.
But there was no other word for what he was doing. It was him, owning, possessing, fucking branding me with one kiss. But it was more than one kiss. I’d kissed countless guys over my not-so-humble sexual career. Kissing mostly meant nothing. This was something—more than something. He was kissing me, wanting me after I just laid my filth at his feet.
He released me both too soon and not quickly enough. My brain felt like Jell-O and I was panting like an overweight Labrador.
“What was that?” I managed to choke out, blinking at him rapidly.
He didn’t answer, merely set my panties on fire with his gaze and hitched me over his shoulder. Yes, people did that in real life, if that’s what this was.
It took me the time it took him to leave the ladies’ room and walk down the hall to realize what was going on and start struggling. I wriggled and kicked, not caring that I was wearing a dress and such actions were not ladylike. I was not a lady, so who cared.
“Lucky!” I screeched.
He didn’t answer me, just kept walking into the common room full with people. Fucking great.
“Put me down,” I ordered, deciding to ignore the hoots and hollers as people watched his journey across the room.
He ignored me again, his arms like vises, hindering my struggle like I was a child. Despite the hoots, not many people seemed perturbed that Lucky was carting a struggling woman through the crowded room. In fact, from what I could see from my current position, everyone continued whatever they were doing without a second glance.
“Hello?” I shouted to no one in particular. “I’m being kidnapped! I thought the whole point of being an alpha biker was to help damsels in distress.” I waved my hands. “Damsel, in distress.”
I got a smirk from Brock, who had his arm around Amy, who winked at me. Fucking winked.
Rosie shook her head, grinning. I amended all my earlier thoughts about her. She wasn’t nice; she was a she-devil.
We made it into the parking lot without anyone coming to my aid.
“Fucking bikers,” I muttered under my breath. I’d stopped struggling, mostly because I’d discovered it was useless but even more disturbing, I’d lost the ability. My body was weak, but I hadn’t realized how much. I was breathless, as well as slightly nauseous from the laughable struggle.
“Put me down, Lucky. This isn’t funny,” I declared as we approached the truck we’d arrived in. “Or legal,” I added. Though I guessed an outlaw biker didn’t exactly care about federal law.
Again, Lucky was quiet. His silence was beginning to freak me out.
My stomach whirled as he somehow managed to open the door to the truck and deposit me in the seat in one smooth move. Almost like he’d done it before.
Because I was using all of my effort not to throw up, I missed my chance of escape. Which consisted of kicking him in his crown jewels and running to God knew where. When I realized that option was available, it disappeared. It disappeared with the cold steel circling my wrist and a metallic click.
I gaped up at my hand, which was now attached to the handle on the ceiling. “Holy shit,” I exclaimed. I glared at him. “You’re fucking handcuffing me?” I shouted. “Who the heck has handcuffs in their pockets?”
Lucky regarded me, his eyes still hard as he grinned seductively. “Someone who knows how to use them in the most pleasurable ways.”
The door slammed in my face and he rounded the car. I rattled the cuffs, looking for a way to pull them free. I was still attached to the roof by the time he climbed in the cab and began reversing out of the lot.