Falling For Crazy (Moroad Motorcycle Club) (11 page)

Amy was right. If Sarah had lived, the chances of them still being together were slim. He'd loved her at the time, but he understood she was young. Her carefree spirit would've taken her away from him, and he hoped he would've wished her well, been happy for her. She would've deserved to be happy.

"I wish..." he whispered, shaking his head to stop himself from going down that road.

Amy was so much like Sarah. The similarities messed with his head. He placed his boots on the pegs and leaned forward to brace his forearms on the handles. Personality wise, the sisters were total opposites.

At his age, he appreciated the calm Amy brought him and her need to know what was going on, to help, to make decisions. Hell, he enjoyed her bringing him a plate of food, handing him his vest in the morning, and around the club the way she looked after him as if she would stop anyone from making fun of the way he acted.

He let his chin drop to his chest. Nothing he'd done pushed Amy away. The more fucked up he acted, the more she pulled him closer. He never wanted her pity, but tonight he'd seen a look in her eyes that pissed him off. Anger boiled inside of him, and he wanted to prove to her there was no place in his life for her to feel regrets.

He wanted her. His need to get closer to her had nothing to do with Amy being Sarah's sister. He wanted her because she was Amy.

He gazed straight ahead. "I want Amy," he said out loud.

Only silence answered him.

"I guess until I figure things out and understand how Amy will handle me being in her life, I need to give her some answers to questions she's had about me." He paused and when no sign of a response came, he continued. "If you don't hear from me, don't worry. I...I just need to do this, for Amy's sake. She deserves more from me."

He started his bike, pushed the Harley backward with his feet, and rode away. Away from the memories of his past and toward Amy.

A
my's upper body slumped against the wall and refused to move. She wiggled her toes and groaned. The prickles from her legs going numb shot up her calves jolting her fully awake.

After Bear had left with the rest of the pizza; she'd fallen asleep. Sometime in the early hours of the morning, she'd woken to the rumble of a motorcycle. Determined to talk with Jacko when he returned, she'd stayed awake.

Except, he never came back to the room.

The sun broke through the curtains. She straightened her legs, suffering through the agonizing nerves protesting her movements. Hobbling over to the dresser, she chose a pair of shorts, a tank, and got dressed.

"Just let me get through one more day without getting kidnapped, killed, or kissed," she muttered.

She made the bed and grabbed the hairbrush and makeup kit Katie gave her. Thank God the handheld mirror only showed her a tiny version of her bagged eyes and dark circles. She slapped on some liner, mascara, and threw everything back into the bag. The less she looked at herself, the easier it was to ignore the pounding headache and nausea.

It wasn't the whiskey she drank making her feel like shit, but Jacko making her sick.

Anytime she thought about him, spent time in the room and he touched her, she got a queasy feeling and burned up. She pressed her hand to her forehead. Maybe she had a fever.

The door swung open, and Jacko stepped inside. His gaze went down, then up. She lowered her hand, the tension in her muscles multiplied.

"You okay?" He removed his gloves and stuffed them in his back pocket.

"Yep." She pressed her hands against her stomach, smoothing her tank. "You?"

He lifted his shoulder in a non-answer. "Have you ate?"

"I think I'll skip breakfast." Her stomach held strong, but she wasn't going to tempt fate by eating.

Jacko walked over to his duffle, removed some cash, and shoved the money in his wallet. She strolled over to the door and stepped outside.

Fresh air hit her. She inhaled deeply and closed her eyes, testing her reaction. Luckily, her headache eased.

Bear and Johnson stood three doors down from her. She attempted a smile and gave a small wave. It appeared she'd spend another day camped out in a motel with nothing to do but tag after the bikers. Though she'd heard some of the Moroad members worked at the silver mine, the ones who hung around the motel seemed unemployed, including Jacko.

She turned around. "Hey, do you have—?"

"What?" Jacko stood within a foot of her.

"Sorry, I thought you were still inside." She stepped away. "Do you work at night?"

"Depends on what you call work." He motioned her back inside and shut the door. "Club business happens when it happens."

'Did you have club business last night?"

"No." He stepped over and picked up the spare pistol he'd set on the nightstand yesterday. "I had unfinished business."

"It's over now?" She gripped the gun.

"Yeah, it's over." He grabbed her hip and spun her around. "Untuck your shirt."

She pulled on her tank and held on to the material. "Why?"

"I want you to keep the gun on you every minute." He slipped the steel of the barrel against her lower back.

She shimmied away. "That's cold."

The pistol fell into the back of her shorts. She slapped her hand, catching it from sliding all the way through her shorts to the floor.

Jacko took the pistol back out. "Do you have a belt?"

She shook her head. "I could put on the pair of jeans I wore yesterday. They fit a little better."

"Yeah. You better do that."

She scooped the jeans off the top of the dresser and slipped into the bathroom.

Glancing behind her, even though the door was closed, she shimmied out of her shorts and pulled on her jeans. She couldn't blame her weak and shaky arms on the lack of food. Every time Jacko touched her, she jumped, her adrenaline spiking.

She left her tank untucked and went back out to the room. "Do you want me to carry the pistol because things have changed?"

"Yeah." He stopped swaying. "Things have changed."

"What happened?" She turned around and held up the back of her shirt.

He slipped the gun under the waistband of her jeans. His hand lingered on her lower bare back. She instantly heated.

"Jacko?"

"Yeah?"

She glanced over her shoulder. "You're touching me."

He brought up his other hand and spanned his hands on each hip. "Good?"

She turned her gaze back around, so she couldn't see his face. "I need to..."

"What do you need, Momma?"

"I need to apologize. I never meant to throw Sarah in your face last night or the other times." She quivered under his hands. "The thought of you moving on and being with other women hurts me."

"Why?" He lowered his head and kissed the side of her neck.

"I don't know." Her body twitched in response. "Why are you doing that?"

He left his mouth on her sensitive skin. "I need you to listen to me and get what I'm going to say in your head. Can you do that for me?"

She puckered her lips, blew steady, and nodded.

"The other women had nothing to do with how I felt about Sarah." His warm breath heated her neck. "
You
have nothing to do with how I felt about Sarah. The other women have nothing to do with how I feel about
you
. I want to taste you again and touch more of you. I want you, not because you're fucking here, but because
you're
here. Argue all you want, but we have a bond, Momma. We loved Sarah, but damn, you're here and what I feel when I'm around you is like nothing I've felt for you before. Sarah's not here now. She'll never be here."

She closed her eyes. His explanation sucked, and yet she found herself agreeing with him.

"That's all I got to say." He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her back against his chest, and swayed with her. "Feel that?"

She swallowed hard. His erection pressed against the top of her ass. She could ignore proof of him wanting her, but her body vibrated.

What would it hurt to get together with him? She was a grown woman put in a difficult situation. Jacko would never put any rules on her, and he'd never try to convince her it was anything more than sex.

"I feel it," she whispered.

"Your move," he whispered back.

Oh, God. He handed the decision to her, which she desperately needed when her life was careening out of control. The whole situation with her worries, visiting the past, and having her life stripped away from her and dependent on him only exasperated the circumstances.

"It's not wrong if I turn around?" she asked.

His tongue swept the side of her neck. "No."

She pivoted and found herself smashed against his chest. He wasn't going to let her change her mind or move away from him.

His gaze softened and heated. "Hey."

"Hey." She held her breath.

"Open your mouth."

Lost in his eyes, she angled her head at his approach. She expected him to dive in and consume her. Instead, he gave her long, wet, and consistent. Exactly what she needed, she kissed him back.

His hand slipped into the back of her jeans, and he removed the pistol. She pulled away from him and walked backward toward the bed. The second she moved, he moved with her and put his hands on her waist.

"Too many clothes," he mumbled.

He slid his hands underneath her tank, along her sides. She gasped when he leaned forward and brushed his lips against hers, kissing a titillating trail from her mouth to her chin and along her jaw.

His tongue flicked her earlobe. She shivered, rolling with the arousal he created.

He lifted his head and caught her gaze. "Hey, it'll be good."

"Yeah," she answered, wanting that to be true.

She sucked in air, lifting her arms as he removed her shirt. Her legs shook, threatening to fail her.

His gaze dropped to her breasts. Goosebumps broke out along her arms, and her nipples peaked. He brought his hands back to her waist. His thumbs hooked her jeans and panties pushing them down as his gaze heated a path from her stomach, her pussy, her legs, and back up to her sex.

She needed him to touch her before she made the foolish mistake of her life and stopped him. The intensity of him stripping her almost undid her.

She couldn't think straight. She wanted him to slow down. She wanted him to speed up. She wanted him to continue giving her the pleasure she was experiencing.

She held on to his arms, unsteady and unsettled. The last time she had sex, she'd been twenty-four years old. Years ago.

Afraid she'd chicken out with Jacko, she fumbled with his belt and pulled the leather from the loop before she could change her mind. She tugged him forward as she stepped out of her jeans and panties. Her breath came heavy in her rush, shocking her at how desperate she sounded.

He stepped back. Empty-handed, she curled her fingers into her palms and watched him.

In a brusque move, he ripped off his vest, his shirt, and pushed his jeans over his hips and down his muscular thighs. She kneeled at his feet working on the laces of his boots, taking her eyes off his hard cock pointed in her direction.

She'd never been with a man of his size before. He intimidated her and excited her. What if she wasn't up to taking him?

She caught her lip between her teeth and glanced up for another look. His hardness pulsed, dripping pre-cum, and in return wetness flooded her sex. She wanted to worship at his feet, promise him the freedom to trespass her body with his hands, his mouth, his cock.

Her inexperience only heightened her response to him. She was so into him; she almost missed the tilt of his mouth as he cocked his head to the side and watched her.

He hooked his hands under her armpits dragging her to her feet. In a wild move, she kissed his stomach on her way up eliciting a groan from Jacko. His obvious pleasure encouraged her.

She dragged her lips along the diamond shape hair on his chest. The hard muscles underneath her mouth were too perfect to ignore. She always desired a man with a broad chest and shoulders, wanting to lay her head within the safety of his arms.

Jacko groaned, taking her to the bed. She landed softly on her back with him strategically positioned atop her and between her thighs, his face above hers.

He reached above and to the left, opening the nightstand drawer. A condom appeared in front of her. He ripped the package with his teeth.

"How...?"

He stilled. "I put a handful of them in there when you took a shower the day after I woke up using your tits as a pillow. If anything had happened, I'd be the one taking care of you."

"Oh." She absorbed his reason and decided she liked how he took responsibility for her.

Jacko rolled to his side, put the condom on, and rolled back between her legs. Between the hunger blazing in his eyes and her legs trembling around his hips, she tightened her hold on his upper arms.

A moment of panic tickled her chest. There was no turning back. Their friendship or whatever he called it would forever change.

"Stop," he ordered.

"What?"

"Thinking," he said.

She nodded.

He kissed her. She latched on to his tongue, sucking, holding him close, needing the connection.

He rubbed her hip and then slipped his hand between their bodies. She raised her hips seeking his fingers. He brushed his thumb over her clit. She moaned, quivering. Her body came alive. She slid her hand up into his hair.

With her holding him, he slowly entered her, one tight inch at a time.

He jerked his head back and hissed. His legs shook as he fought to go slow.

She held on to him, widening her legs and watched the pleasure roll through Jacko as her heat surrounded him.

Deep inside her, she pulsed. Connected in the most intimate way, he became a part of her. More than friendship. More than a relationship of understanding and common ground. More than sharing the past that had destroyed them both.

He let his weight settle on her. She lifted her feet and hooked her heels behind his thighs.

She felt him more than ever before.