Vicious Heart (Desert Kings MC #2)

1. Riley

one

Riley

His body vibrated with tension, pushing slightly against me, as if I gave him an inch he’d take it all the way to Preacher and knock him right in his teeth. His hands formed fists, his muscles grew impossibly tighter; he practically pulsed with violence.

I hugged him tighter, nuzzling my face just under his neck. The scent of him reminded me of what we’d done, of sex and all the rest. But more, his heart thundered against my cheek. This was scarier than racing through the desert, chased by rednecks. If he acted on the emotion running through him, he could lose so much… we could.

I wouldn’t be the cause of it. The fear wound tighter. I’d lost so much, and my relationship with Cam was the first thing to make me happy in too long to remember. I’d do anything to keep that feeling, to keep him safe.

“Please.” I whispered, barely audible over the music and conversation.

He glanced down, blue eyes bright with an electric energy that threatened to burn it all down around us. It excited me almost as much as it scared me.

“Cam…”

His hands relaxed and his arms wrapped around me, pulling me close and holding me tight, lips seeking mine. The kiss wasn’t soft or comforting, it was searing and arousing. Stoking an entirely different fiery sensation. Especially considering that the entire clubhouse saw it, even the patch bunnies.

But it wasn’t them he wanted to see. That show was for Preacher, staking his claim, reminding the other man the only thing standing between the two of them was me.

I shivered.

When he pulled free, his hand slid to my ass and gripped it tightly, squeezing enough that I gasped. The look he shot over my shoulder was full of possessive warning. I didn’t bother turning around to see Preacher’s reaction.

“Come on.” His hand moved to my hip as he walked me toward the back door, where Merc stood with it propped open.

“You alright?” Cam turned to me as the door shut behind him, leaving the three of us walking around to where the bikes were parked.

“Yeah.” Not a lie; I was a little shaken but otherwise fine. “Today was…stressful.”

Cam’s eyebrows rose in a yeah-right look as he threw a leg over his bike and handed me the helmet. “What did Preach say?”

“Nothing really. I just don’t like him,” I mumbled, strapping the helmet on.

He wasn’t buying it. Stopping short of cranking the bike, he shot me a no bullshit glare. We weren’t going anywhere until I told him.

“He asked about the lawyer—Archer shit. Offered to have the club buy the house.”

Cam frowned, but he gestured for me to hop on and glanced to Merc, who grunted and climbed onto his bike. “Don’t tell him shit, okay?”

It was my turn to make a yeah right face as I hopped on. “I got it, trust me.” I settled my feet on the pegs and wrapped my arms around his middle. This was the part that was too easy to get used to. The loud reverberation in my chest as he cranked the bike was like a weird calling. Something that would forever be Cam’s. No matter how far apart we were, that sound would bring up images of him, feelings of being with him.

Something to hold on to when I couldn’t cling to him.

I didn’t know where we were going, didn’t need to. Like this, I felt safe. Something about Cam and Merc together was sort of invincible, even after we’d been chased through the desert earlier that day. The bond between them was obvious and showed as they rode. Both Harleys staggered in the right lane, Merc always slightly ahead of us, as if the only person he trusted behind him was Cam.

Probably was.

They changed lanes and passed cars in tandem, as if they were following an invisible line in the pavement that only they could see. It made the ride soothing, a balm on the rawness of the day. As I relaxed, I leaned heavier on Cam.

He slipped a hand over mine at his stomach, rubbing my knuckles with his thumb.

The Black Cat sat on the outskirts of Vegas. The dark building’s red, neon lady perched on the roof alternated stroking the silhouette of a black cat and herself as she flashed from one scene to another. The back lot was filled with cars, though Merc drove by them and parked by a sleek, black Jag off to the side with a large gray SUV.

As I climbed from the motorcycle and took off the helmet, I was immediately self-conscious. The women in there weren’t something I could compete against, not for any man’s attention much less Cam’s.

Cam, currently interpreting my hesitation, grabbed me by the waist, smacked me on the ass, and dropped a kiss to my lips. “Whatever you’re telling yourself, you’re wrong.”

I’d been in bed with him, watched the way his face changed when he touched me. He was mine. He chuckled when I gave him a wry grin. “Maybe we could put you to work,” he teased with a wink and nodded toward the building.

When I cut him a scathing look, Merc piped up with an uncharacteristic good humor. “You’re one of us now. Time to earn your keep.”

They both fought for serious faces, and I couldn’t help but snort a laugh. Away from the clubhouse, they were both so very different, relaxed. They were happy.

“I have zero rhythm. You won’t make much off me.”

“You’ve got all the moves I need.” Cam stopped walking long enough to kiss me long and slow, then broke with a grin.

Everything in me turned hot and flashed straight to arousal. No, I wasn’t the least bit concerned about the women in that club. Not when he did things like that.

“Cut it out, the Soletsky’s charge for that shit.” But Merc was still grinning.

Cam released me and went in first, past the lone security guard at the back door. That door man stuck a big, beefy arm out to stop me from entering. “Gentlemen only.”

“She’s with me.” Merc pushed his arm out of the way, leading me in before Cam could say anything.

The guard blinked, as if seeing Merc for the first time, then climbed back on his stool, in an unconcerned way that said he knew him well.

“My boy’s got sway.” Cam smirked.

Merc’s dry response was swallowed up by the swell of music.

I’d never been in a strip club before but hadn’t expected it to be this loud. Or this clean. The cool air smelled of expensive liquor and vanilla. The scent evoked a sensual image in my head. As did all the dark wood-grain textures and black painted walls.

If it were possible for the inside of a building to ooze sex, this one did.

Near the bar, Merc turned off and ducked down a dark hallway. We didn’t follow, instead Cam took my hand and led me around to the bar. At first, I tried not to look, focusing on the bottles lined neatly and shelf in front of the mirrored barback. But then a tall, leggy dancer on a side stage caught my attention. She was topless, her dark nipples sparkled under the flashing lights. She moved like liquid sex, wrapping around the pole and back off again.

Not the ass shaking, stage humping I’d expected. This was a show, each fluid movement of her body meant to draw the eye, intended to arouse. The men tossing money at her were enchanted. Hell, I was too.

“You like her?” Cam whispered against my ear before nipping the lobe.

She was curvy, with dimples in the small of her back. Her thick curtain of dark hair shone and shimmered under the disco ball above the stage. Her full lips twisted into a come-hither smile as she hit her knees and spread her thighs to let a man shove a wad of bills in the garter on her thigh. There was something sexy in the way she chased his touch with her hands, pushing them away and taking his money before spinning back on her pole.

She had my full attention. Or maybe Cam did.

My skin was warm and I shivered when he bit my ear again, with a little more force this time. Cam’s presence made everything… more . More Demanding. More heated. More sexual.

“Maybe.” I definitely liked the feel of his hand on my inner thigh when I slid onto the barstool and the heat as he nuzzled my neck.

The dancer spun around and arched her back, so the men between me and the stage had an unobstructed view of her full ass. When she shook it a little, they all scrambled closer, as if she were moving just for them.

If I’d had a few dollars, I’d have slid them into her thong myself.

When I glanced over to say as much to Cam, he wasn’t watching her—he watched me. His eyes narrowed, his nostrils flared a little, like we’d not just had sex a few hours before.

The cool club was suddenly very hot. Were we not in public, the way he was looking at me, I’d have climbed all over him right then. Instead, I blushed and dropped my gaze.

He continued to stroke my thigh, even as he gave the bartender our drink order, his fingers creeping closer to the heat between my legs with each stroke. Then he flicked the tips of his fingers across the hem that covered my pussy. I snapped my legs shut and he chuckled, nipping again at the side of my neck.

Trying to ignore his other hand, that was sneaking up my side, under my shirt, I checked out the main stage. It was larger than any of the others, positioned below the DJ booth, with a mirrored floor that gave spectators a full view of each dancer. My eyes were drawn there, to the flashing lights and the voluptuous woman who teasingly pulled off the skintight dress to the beat of the music.

I was aroused, more from Cam’s teasing touches, than anything else. But I didn’t look away. My nipples strained against my bra. Women weren’t my thing, but the way she moved was so sensual it triggered illicit fantasies, things I wanted from Cam but couldn’t put into words. Cam’s fingers stroked over my thighs again and up my ribs, while she swayed and moved. Her body was practically made to evoke the most tempting images.

Cam pulled his hand from my side and handed me a shot of tequila. I watched him grab his beer bottle and take a long pull, the liquid leaving his lips shining, making me want to lick them… and then lick other things.

I closed my eyes against the thought before leaning back against him and opening them to take my shot. On the stage, the woman undulated, drawing every eye close by. I couldn’t even make out what the DJ said to egg her on. It didn’t matter; all that mattered was watching her was like watching a woman writhe on the bed, begging for more. Even in a crowd of people it was seductively intimate.

Cam leaned close, his body tight against my side, his hand higher between my thighs now, applying gentle pressure. But still, I didn’t open them for him. If I did, we’d get thrown out. Occasionally he’d flick his eyes to the dancer, now nude, then back to me, gauging my reaction.

When I licked his lips, I could see him groan, though wished I could have heard it over the music.

He dropped his head to my temple, speaking directly into my ear, his voice thick and husky. “Watching you is probably the hottest thing I’ve ever seen. I can’t wait until I get you home and show you exactly what you make me think about.”

Heat fanned out across my chest, traveling fast up my neck to my cheeks.

“Never thought I’d see you bring a woman in here.” A slightly accented male voice called over the music, broke whatever sexual spell the place wove over me. “Maybe taking them out, but never in.”

I motioned for another shot and the bartender was there instantly. My new shot came so fast I knew the man Cam turned to was important. I downed the shot, the sharp liquid doing little to quell my arousal or my curiosity.

The man who approached was taller than Cam but lean, with a narrow waist and broad shoulders. He was young, too young to run a place like this. Too pretty, too.

He pulled Cam into a back slapping bro hug. Cam’s jeans and leather vest contrasted against the other man’s black dress slacks and dark t-shirt. The expensive kind that would never dare to attract the little balls of worn fabric in the wash.

“Send a few bottles up to the VIP lounge,” he called to the bartender, then turned to me with a smile that was as disarming as it was charming. “Ky Soletsky, the best looking and nicest Soletsky in residence.”

Behind him was another man, older but no less attractive and dressed very similarly. His mouth quirked like he might argue, but he was too amused. His high, sharp cheekbones cut a dangerous picture through his five o’clock shadow, so when he smiled it was almost wolfish. He looked far more dangerous than his counterpart, like each breath he took hinted at impending violence.

I didn’t have a chance for trepidation to settle in. Because Cam’s face lit with genuine pleasure and surprise when he saw the other man. “Val. Good to see you, brother. I was expecting Symon.”

“For you, I’m here.” His accent was heavier and oddly appealing.

Cam pulled me off the stool and to his side. “Valentyn, this is Riley Bowman.”

The harder, edgier Soletsky, seemed to let the weight of my last name settle on him before giving me a genuine smile. “Welcome to The Black Cat. Don’t let my nephew deceive you. He’s not the best looking.”

Ky was cute, seriously. But I had to agree with Val.

Jealousy flashed briefly on Cam’s face as Val and I sized each other up. He narrowed his eyes and tucked me against him. His reaction shouldn’t be so hot, and yet I licked my lips.

Val laughed, took my hand and brushed a chaste kiss over my knuckles before releasing me and waving for us to follow him. He paused briefly at the main stage, exchanging a glance with the curvy dancer as she bent to pick up her dress. Then she looked past him, smiled at me, and blew me a kiss.

I blushed and looked away, walking side by side with Cam. His free hand on the small of my back was warm and possessive as he directed me up a set of winding stairs behind Val. At the top, I turned to see Merc behind Cam, scanning the club. Out in public, away from the clubhouse, Merc seemed tense, always looking out for trouble—and always right behind him.

Compared to the ride over here, everything about this encounter shouted that it wasn’t personal, no matter how pleasantly we were greeted.