My hands fisted beneath the table when I thought about it. My knuckles were red. My bones glowing with the bruises you got when you pounded them into a raping asshole that you caught trying to sexually assault your roomie.
But it wasn’t just the attack that had me wound up.
For some damn reason, the idea of her dating at all appealed to me about as much as nails down a blackboard.
Clearly, I was feeling protective of her. It was normal. I’d known her, her entire life. So when she went on a date it only made sense that I would feel… jealous?
Not jealous.
Protective.
And with good reason. I had half a mind to hunt down the asshole and finish what I had started last night. Despite Chastity’s pleas for me not to.
I frowned and tried to focus on what Bull was saying. He had moved on from Martel and was discussing the marijuana fields and this year’s crop, which was being distributed by the Knights. Once upon a time, they had been our rivals. But a profitable supply and distribution deal between the clubs had made us allies, and the last few years had been lucrative for both of us. This year we were going to triple our return on investment.
But my mind kept shifting back to last night and how good Chastity had looked. How beautiful she was. Her eyes. Her hair. The way that dress hugged her luscious curves.
All the things I shouldn’t be noticing. Yet couldn’t stop thinking about.
Jesus Christ, she was just a kid.
Not to mention, Bull’s niece.
I shifted uncomfortably in my seat.
I told myself my reaction came from a shift in our friendship. Which was to be expected when you shared a house together, right?
But the idea of her dating. I didn’t like it.
Not one bit.
And now I needed to work out why.
Was it because she was Chastity and no man would ever be worthy?
Or was it for more selfish reasons?
CHASTITY
The day after my disastrous date with Peter, I had classes in the morning and then a shift at Wax-it until four o’clock. Thankfully I didn’t see Peter, because according to Simone, he had called his boss and quit with some excuse about moving back to Alabama. It didn’t surprise me. If I were him, I would, too. He had poked the Kings of Mayhem bear, and he knew it. His best chance at not living a life where he had to look over his shoulder everyday was to leave town.
And let’s face it. The only reason he was still breathing was because I had stopped Ruger from going after him, and showing him what a real man thought of a man who forced himself on a woman.
Finishing up at the salon, I climbed into my car and drove home with the windows down because the air conditioning was acting up. It was one of the hottest days of the summer so far, the heat was thick in the air and I had been fantasizing about Ruger’s pool since lunch time.
When I arrived home, Ruger was in the driveway washing his bike.
Shirtless.
“How much do you charge?” I asked as I climbed out of my car. “Mine could use a wash.”
“I don’t come cheap,” he replied, standing up from washing the motorcycle wheels, and dear God, I almost choked on my own breath.
My eyes swept up the length of him. Yeah, he was sixteen years older than me, but he had the body men my age would kill for.
Wide, rounded shoulders.
A broad, chiseled chest.
Arms you couldn’t wrap two hands around.
Tattoos covering his arms and his chest, and across his impressive six-pack. When he moved, his abs rippled beneath his taut, perfect skin.
“Do I get a roomie discount?” I asked, trying desperately to tear my eyes off that ridiculously sexy V disappearing beneath his belt.
“I’ll tell you what, two pairs of hands are faster than one. How about you help me with my bike and I’ll help you with your car.”
He threw a soapy sponge at me, and it sent water spraying across my stomach. Soap suds soaked into my shirt and dripped onto my thighs.
I tracked his eyes as they slid up and down the length of my body, and noticed how his jaw tightened before he looked away. Goosebumps rippled along my skin. That look. His eyes. I bit down on my bottom lip. It was unmistakable. He had just checked me out, and it had unnerved him.
“I’ll get another sponge,” he said, turning away.
He walked into the garage and took a second sponge off one of the shelves, picking up a second bucket near the door as he walked back out to the driveway. I watched as he effortlessly picked up the bucket full of soapy water and poured half of it into the second bucket. He was big. He was strong. And he did everything with ease.