Bound to the Bad Boy (2 page)

Back then.

So why was she here? Why had she
come back? Certainly not to visit her parents, as they had long ago moved away,
intent on spreading their bear preservation message to the rest of North
America.
 

So if she wasn’t here for them,
then why?

The roar of a series of
motorcycles as they entered the school grounds answered her question.

Because I am a fool…an irrational, impulsive
fool being led by my heart and my pussy.

She
was
back to see Matt. There was no denying it.

****

Megan hurried over to the
refreshments stand and grabbed a cup of punch. It was unnaturally puce in color
and sweetened with aspartame. It made her flinch when she took a big swig. But
she needed fortifying. She couldn’t see him again without some liquid courage.

Megan drained the cup then took
another, cursing the betrayal of her trembling hand that nearly spilled the
sticky liquid all over the plastic tablecloth.

Calm down, Megan…

The doors swung wide open and she
held her breath. She tried to look away but her gaze was dragged back to the
entrance. Like an addict, she craved her fix and this one had been a long time
coming. Cold turkey didn’t suit everyone but for her, it had been the only way
to break free.

The scent of leather, oil and raw
masculinity filled the gymnasium, a precursor to the arrival of some of the members
of the Night Warriors Motorcycle Club. Megan was overwhelmed by an urge to
flee. To escape the confines of the gymnasium and to race back to her safe new
life. The walls seemed to close in on her as she watched the recent arrivals.
The room was suddenly crammed with her old fears, and the ghosts of her
adolescent years danced around her, taunting her with her teenage insecurities.
She was young, small and helpless.

A victim.
Run, damn you. Run.

But she was made of stone and,
try as she might, she could not move a muscle.

The Night Warriors strode into
the gym as confidently as they had done a lifetime ago.
Danger
and desire in leathers.
They moved with a heavy elegance, large powerful
men sure of themselves and their buddies. Their jackets creaked as they walked
and their heavy boots pounded relentlessly upon the aging wooden boards. Like a
drumroll at an execution, Megan heard them beat out her fate.

She bit her lip. She waited.
And waited.
Consumed with impatience that
drowned out her fears.
Where is
he?

But there was no sign.

Where was Matt? Wasn’t he coming?
What if she had come all this way for nothing?

So you’re admitting it now, huh? You came back for him.

She gave an involuntary little
nod. It was true. It would be such a waste of time, of hope, of excitement…if
Matt did not turn up. Her heart sank to her stiletto heels and she downed the
full cup of punch, wincing as its sweetness filled her mouth and clung to her
throat. Then she stared into the empty cup, convinced that her heart was just
as void and hollow.

So what now? Just as well, head back to the hotel.
All
alone, and frustrated as hell.

She was consumed in a black cloud
of disappointment and suddenly all she wanted to do was curl up into a ball and
cry. To pour her grief out onto her starched hotel pillow until her throat
ached and her eyes were swollen.

A few whoops and hollers made her
look up.

There he was…striding into the
gym, about to be surrounded by old school mates. Or those who would
claim
to have been his friends. They
gathered around him, drawn to his rugged alpha masculinity and self-confidence,
as if they believed it would rub off on them.

Clad in black from head to toe.
Matt.
Black leather jacket, black
t-shirt stretched over his bulging chest, black Levi jeans and bulky black
boots. He was older but still gorgeous.

So gorgeous.
 

Her heart picked up its pace and
her body flooded with heat. Goosebumps rose on her arms and she shivered with
remembered delight. Although the gymnasium stretched out between them, she
could feel the boom of his laughter as it shook his broad shoulders and
tightened the sinews of his throat. She was transported back to all the times
when she had rested her head upon him just to feel the sheer joy of sharing his
mirth. She trembled as her love for him threatened to rock her world into chaos
once more.

Matt’s hair, combed back from his
forehead,
exposed
his flawless brow. It reached his
collar and curled softly around the base of his earlobes. It was shorter than
it had been the last time she had seen him, but it suited him. Megan used to
love to run her fingers through his ebony curls, to wrap them around her
fingers like promise rings. As she watched him, his face lit up with a grin. It
was the face of a man now, from his wide throat with its prominent Adam’s
apple, to his chiseled jaw and thick, black eyebrows. And his eyes were as dark
and dangerous as she
remembered,
windows to his
intense and passionate soul.

He moved his gaze over the crowd
and panic broke the spell that had held Megan frozen. She turned away quickly
and placed her cup on the table. Her whole body trembled and a hot flush spread
from her ruby red toenails to the roots of her auburn hair. How could he have
such an effect on her after all this time? She felt like a teenager again.
Confused.
Aroused.
Exhilarated.
Terrified.

She had to get out. Make a quick
escape. She couldn’t go on pretending she could see him and not be affected by
him anymore.

She had been consumed by her love
for Matt King once.

She couldn’t let it happen all
over again.

****

Megan took a wide arc around the
gym, keeping to the edges. She smiled and nodded at people as she went, trying
to avoid arousing suspicions about why she was leaving so soon. She kept her
head down, grateful for her long, thick hair, which created a red curtain
around her face.

She picked off the sticky label bearing
her name, then folded it and tucked it into her bag, swallowing a sigh at the
sticky rectangular residue it had left behind on her new dress.

Damn.

No time to worry now, though.
She’d have to see if she could get the drycleaner to remove it.

Not that it mattered. None of it
really mattered. It was all just futile and irrelevant in the grander scheme of
things. It didn’t even feature on the horizon of the pain she’d suffered giving
up the man she loved, and all because she couldn’t face loving him so much any
longer. Was it possible to love someone too much? Megan knew it was.

Stop it.

She was almost at the doors when
a hand landed on her shoulder. She froze and swallowed a scream. Her mouth
dried up and the pink punch swirled in her stomach, threatening to re-emerge at
any moment.

No. Please, no. This was a mistake. I can’t do it.

“Well, well . . . if it isn’t
Megan Agnelli.”

She cringed at the high-pitched
voice that reminded her of fingernails being raked down a blackboard. There was
only one person it could belong to. She turned on her heel and plastered on a
fake smile.

“Hannah Pinter… How nice to see
you,
and you look…” Megan glanced quickly up and down the
woman in front of her. She assumed her best poker face. “You look just
amazing
.”

And she did.
Amazing
for a woman who had once been svelte enough to wear a cheerleader’s short skirt
and tight top as she somersaulted across the field.
Megan realized that
if Hannah tried that now, she might well injure herself or at least be hindered
by the fifty or so pounds she had gained.

“Hmmm.”
Hannah narrowed her eyes. “You look pretty good yourself. Life in the city
seems to suit you. Married?” She peered at Megan’s left hand. “
Dating
anyone?” She raised her penciled-in
eyebrows.

“I’d like to hear the answer to
that one too.”

Megan gasped as the mouth so
close to her ear moved a ringlet against her face. His breath was hot on her
neck as he gently moved her hair and swept it over her shoulder. Tiny shivers
ran up and down her spine as images from their joint past flooded into her
mind.

Matt.

The familiar scent of leather and
pine washed over her, filling her senses and making her heart leap like a
spring foal. It set her skin on fire and stoked the yearning between her legs
that only he had ever been able to fully satisfy. Matt always ‘got’ her. He had
understood what she needed and craved as no other man ever had. But their love had
been dangerous, her passion for him overpowering. It had consumed her like a
bushfire, sweeping throughout her body, heart and mind and she had needed to
get out in order
to survive
. She never wanted to feel
like she was teetering at the edge of that chasm of vulnerability again, even
though the alternative was just so dull.
So lonely.
So empty.

It would be easy to turn now and
kiss him the way she remembered. To press her lips against his and breathe him
in until she found the high she craved. She was consumed by the longing to be swept
up in his muscular arms, held against his rock hard chest and loved until the
sun rose in the Minnesota sky.

Yet, that would be inappropriate
and out of character for the woman she now was. She had long since put such rash
behavior well behind her. So she battled her desire and turned, slowly and
carefully, to meet his curious gaze. But even though she steeled herself,
looking into his chocolate brown eyes made her jump like she’d been bitten by a
snake, and she wobbled on her high heels.

“Hey there,
Megan.”
His big easy grin lit up his tanned, chiseled face and she felt
herself melting.
Losing her carefully constructed façade of
respectability.
Surrendering to his power and
strength.

And wanting to.

This was why she’d broken it off
over the phone. Megan had known that if she’s seen him face to face, she would
have been unable to do it. She could not break up with Matt whilst gazing into
his big brown eyes. It wasn’t how things worked between them. He dominated her
and she submitted to him, in exchange for love, devotion and protection.

That was how it
had
worked between them.

And she hadn’t realized until this
moment, or hadn’t wanted to admit, exactly how much she’d missed him.

****

With her face pressed into the
back of his leather jacket and arms wrapped tightly around his waist, Megan
watched as the familiar sights of the town she’d grown up in flew by.
The well-maintained wooden houses with their expansive manicured front
yards and wooden picket fences.
The mail boxes next to the gates,
numbered and painted in a myriad of colors.
The varying greens
of the trees…everywhere, the trees, grown even taller during her absence.
The familiarity tugged at her heart, reminding her that she had been happy here
once. Her whole life had been here. Her hopes and dreams had been focused on
the life she thought she’d have here, with Matt.

Same town, same people and a
whole trailer load of memories.

Some good.
Some bad.
Some hot as hell… The latter ones, all
featuring the man she now gripped with all of her strength. The man whose
leather jacket was emblazoned with the logo of his club: a silver skull set on
top of a flying motorcycle.
The man who was now sat between
her thighs while her dress rode up almost to her panties, which were rapidly
getting damper.

Just like old times.

What on earth was she doing?
Sure, Matt was still gorgeous, alluring, commanding but it didn’t mean she had
to go home with him. This was crazy. She could get hurt . . . they could both
get hurt. But part of her kept repeating that they really were adults now. They
had both been in other relationships. They were no longer foolish kids swept
along on a tsunami of passion and irresponsible behavior.

Surely, this could just be what
it was?

A one night stand following their
high school reunion.

Just one night.
No more . . . no less.

Her body throbbed in response.

But her heart screamed. One night
would never be enough. She would never survive tearing herself away from him
again. She craved his love, his adoration, his tenderness and his fierce,
dominant passion. She had never met a man like him. None of her lovers had been
his equal.
None of
them.
Not that there had been that many, or that she had actually given
them a chance.

Not really.

She breathed deeply of his scent
and shrugged. It was too late to back out now. She had gone this far. She’d go
back to his grandma’s old house, which he’d inherited, and would spend the
evening, maybe even the night. Perhaps he’d changed anyway and didn’t like the
things he used to. The secret, dark things she dreamed of and fantasized about.
The things that made her wake up most nights soaked in sweat with her hands
pressed between her thighs and her sheets twisted around her.

The things she longed to do
again.

But perhaps that was all in the
past for him. And if so, then it would be for her too.
For
she hadn’t been with anyone with tastes or desires like Matt’s.
And she
wouldn’t want to. That side of
herself
was too
shocking for most men to deal with. She had been forced to act vanilla with her
other lovers, to bury her desire to be spanked or flogged until she came gushing
and hard.
Time after time.