Filthy Devil (Dark Horse MC #6)

Chapter 4

CHAPTER

FOUR

JAMES

After my shower, I look around the little apartment for something to wear and thankfully find a drawer with men’s T-shirts and sweats, along with boxer briefs and socks.

Considering that I have absolutely nothing except the dirty clothes that had been on my back, I’m excited to find something clean.

The bathroom also contained nothing other than a simple bar of soap and shampoo that smelled like cedarwood and two fluffy towels. I haven’t been able to find a comb or brush anywhere, so my unconditioned hair is also going to be a tangled mess. That’s okay with me.

I’m clean and seemingly safe—for now, which is a better position than I was in just a few hours ago.

But as I lay my wet head on the pillow, I can’t help but wonder what is going to happen next. I imagine that whatever it is, I’m not ready for it, mainly because I’m not ready for anything at all.

Nothing.

I don’t even want to know what’s coming my way. I want to live in a state of denial and pretend that I never did any of this.

I’ve created a mess for myself that I think is unfixable.

Closing my eyes, I turn my body to the side and stare at the wall. There are no windows in here. No natural light. Just a lamp beside the bed and an overhead light and fan combo.

I’m not sure when it happens, but eventually, exhaustion takes over, and I’m able to fall asleep… or pass out. I’m not sure which one it is. But I sleep so hard that when I open my eyes, I can’t remember where I am.

Pushing up to sitting, I glance around the little room, and it all comes back to me. I sold myself for the mere price of room and board. Then, this hot biker took me, killed a guy in front of me, and brought me to a strip club.

I’m stupid.

Really freaking stupid. I cannot believe I threw away my life like this. That I was willing to just sell myself to the lowest bidder. Because it sure as shit wasn’t the highest bidder. I feel like had I searched around a little more, I could have found a more lucrative deal for myself. I really screwed myself over, which isn’t a surprise, not really, anyway.

Throwing my legs over the side of the bed, I shuffle into the bathroom and take care of my needs before I chance taking a peek at my reflection in the mirror. My eyes widen at the sight of myself.

My hair is a ratted mess from sleep, with no comb and no conditioner. Good god. Inhaling a deep breath, I let it out slowly, then turn toward the bedroom. I’m not sure what I’m supposed to be doing here today, but at the same time, I know I can’t stay in this room.

I’m hungry.

Really hungry.

Wrapping my fingers around the doorknob, I wonder if it’s locked. I don’t know how he would lock me in, but maybe he did. Then I wonder if strip clubs even have food anywhere. I’ve never been to one, so I have no idea. Guess I’m about to find out.

Tugging on the door, I’m a little surprised when it actually opens. The little hallway is empty when I step out. Empty and dark. I’m not even sure what time it is. There are no windows anywhere, so I have no idea if the sun is even out.

I take one step, then another, but pause at the open door that’s just a few feet away from the room I just left.

Nash is sitting behind a desk, his head leaning backward as he slumps in the chair. His eyes are closed, and his lips are parted slightly. There’s an empty bottle of Crown on his desk, and his hands are laced and resting on his stomach. He’s fast asleep.

Taking a step backward, I freeze when I hear his rough, sleepy voice. “Where you goin’, babe?” he asks.

My entire body freezes. Slowly, he opens one eye, turning his head slightly as he opens his other eye and flicks his gaze to meet mine. I don’t know what to say. I don’t know where I’m going, but I respond anyway.

“I was going in search of food.”

I watch as he shifts in his seat, then places his hands on his thighs as he lets out a soft grunt and rises to his feet. Pressing my lips together, I try not to laugh. He stops, his eyes widen, and then he lets out another grunt.

“You laughin’ because I’m an old fuck who makes noises when he stands?” he asks.

Sinking my teeth into my bottom lip, I can’t help my smile. “Yeah, but it’s cute.”

“Well, fuck,” he snaps. “I’m not just an old fuck. I’m a cute old fuck, which means I’m on the verge of death’s door.”

Shaking my head, I take a step backward as he approaches. I want to reach out and touch him or maybe have him touch me. Feel his fingers skim my skin, his palm cupping my cheek while his eyes search mine.

“You’re not that old,” I state.

He snorts, then brushes past me. Flicking my gaze to his ass, I can’t help but stare at it as he walks away. I’ve never been one of those girls who was into men’s asses, but I think I just never saw the right one before.

Because this man’s ass makes me want to reach out and grab it. It looks rock hard. I think I could probably bounce a quarter off it if I tried. Sinking my teeth into my bottom lip, I run them back and forth over my flesh as I tilt my head to the side and freely ogle.

“I’m old, babe. It’s cool,” he calls out.

I’m not paying attention to the path we’re taking or where we’re going. I’m too focused on his ass. When he turns left, I do as well and am surprised to realize we’re in an industrial kitchen.

“Wow,” I breathe, tearing my gaze from his ass long enough to look around the space.

There is shiny stainless steel everywhere. It’s nicer than any restaurant I’ve ever seen. Without a word, he moves toward a gigantic stainless steel refrigerator. I watch as he tugs the door open, then turns his head and looks over to me.

“What do you want?”

Taking another step toward him, I look over his shoulder and into the fridge. There is fruit, veggies, yogurt, and eggs. I know exactly what I’m making for breakfast. Asking him to step to the side, I start to gather the items for breakfast.

Once I’ve set everything down on the counter, I look around for pans, a cutting board, and a knife. I’m not a renowned chef or anything, but I do like to spend some time in the kitchen.

Moving throughout the space, I search for utensils, pans, and avocado oil before I get to work. I try to ignore Nash’s gaze. He’s watching me, taking in every movement I make. I can feel his eyes on me. It’s almost as if they’re physically touching me. My body heats from his attention.

I wondered if it was just from exhaustion or some kind of white knight savior complex that I was initially attracted to him. But now that I’ve had some sleep and feel a little more comfortable, maybe I’m just plain attracted to him.

Although, everything about my situation is still up in the air. I have no idea what’s going to happen to me. Maybe it’s still a savior thing. As I scramble the eggs, I stare into the bowl, my eyes open but seeing nothing.

NASH

Watching her from across the room, I realize she’s starting to zone out. She’s disappearing right in front of me. Her body is making movements, but she’s not seeing a fucking thing.

She’s lost somewhere inside of her head. I can’t take my eyes off her, though. The way I’m drawn to her isn’t natural. I should not be looking at her, thinking about all the ways I want to fuck her.

Except that’s exactly what I’m doing. I should turn around and walk out of the kitchen, find a clubwhore who knows the score, and bury myself inside of her. Fuck someone else so I can forget about this girl standing in front of me with a faraway look in her eyes.

But that’s not what I do. I can control myself, my body, and my mind. I’m old enough that my dick doesn’t make my decisions for me… at least, I thought I was. Right now, I’m not so sure I’m thinking with my big head and not my little head.

Reaching out, I wrap my fingers around her hip, although I’m pretty positive I should not be touching her. I do it anyway.

James’s back straightens, and her head jerks as if she’s come back from wherever she was. Dipping my chin slightly, I squeeze her hip. She’s wearing my shirt over my boxers, her long legs on display, and there is something that calls to my masculinity with what she’s got on her body—with her wearing my clothes.

I want to claim her.

And I have no goddamn business doing that, thinking that, or touching her right now.

She turns her head, and her gaze finds mine. “Nash,” she whispers.

“You were a million miles away, babe.”

She lets out a sigh, then sinks her teeth into her bottom lip, worrying it for a moment before she releases it. “I was just thinking about what is going to happen to me,” she whispers.

With a grunt, I squeeze her hip one more time before I force myself to take a step backward. I don’t say anything immediately. She turns around to face me, abandoning her food prep. She leans against the edge of the counter, her eyes never leaving mine.

“To be honest, I’m not sure. The plans I originally had don’t quite fit any longer.”

Her brows snap together, but then an expression I can’t quite read crosses her face. She takes a step toward me, then another. I feel her hand touch the center of my chest, but I can’t look down. I can’t look anywhere but into her eyes.

“You killed someone for me,” she whispers.

I’m not sure how she feels about it. She’s stating a fact. I know without a doubt that I don’t feel any type of way about what I did, except he needed to fucking go. My lips twitch into a smirk before I speak.

“He would have hurt you. I could see it in his eyes.”

“You wouldn’t have killed him for a random woman,” she says.

I’m not quite sure what she’s suggesting, but I decide not to ask her because she’s got me there. I wouldn’t have, at least not the way I did. I probably would have just beaten the shit out of him for fucking with an innocent woman and walked away.

But for James, I killed him.

Because he dared to touch, to threaten, and to scare her.

And even though she isn’t, my body has already claimed her as mine.

“Is that the reason the plans have changed?”

I could lie to her, play it off like she doesn’t mean shit. Like she’s just any other woman walking around. When she clearly is not. I’m drawn to her, and I need to protect her from anything that could harm her. The need flows through me, and that includes myself.

“The only thing I promised my club was that I would get you away from the Southern Mafia and protect you. I’ve done that. What happens next is up in the air and up to my discretion.”

Her hand slowly moves down my torso, her eyes staying connected to mine, showing me all of her, every fucking ounce, and I want to keep it.

Keep her.

I’m so fucking fucked.

When her fingers grip my belt, that feeling of being fucked slowly vanishes, and another one consumes me… the sensation of wanting to fuck— her .

I should push her away.

I don’t.

Wrapping my fingers around her wrist at my belt, I start to do just that.