Running Hot (Hell Ryders MC Book 2) Read online

  He didn’t know if she was trying to piss him off again. Hard to care. He held her close with her gaze on his, and even with her face blotchy and red, she looked more beautiful than he remembered. Only natural. Every time he saw her, she was more so. Every day, she grew more.

  Unconsciously, he trailed his thumb down the side of her face. “Baby girl, I’m gonna stay to make sure there isn’t blowback. I’m gonna stay until you feel safe, which is gonna be when you’re home.” A lie. It’d take a lot longer than two weeks for her to feel safe, but he didn’t want to tell her that. Somewhere deep inside, he held hope he hadn’t lied.

  She tore herself away, creating a distance he didn’t like one bit. “Two weeks? You can’t be here for two weeks. I mean… Where will you stay?”

  Two weeks with Tiff. Two weeks living with her, breathing the same air. He grinned. “Yeah, two weeks, I’m staying here with you. You’re gonna have to put up with my shit for that long. I’m messy. I can’t cook for shit. I listen to music loud, and I have a tendency to walk around naked.”

  Her eyes widened, face flamed.

  He chuckled. “I’ll try not to do the last unless…”

  She slapped his chest. No power to the hit, so it was cute. “Stop that.”

  He laughed. “I said I’d try.”

  She stared at him for a moment then released a loaded breath. “Thank you, Thomas…” Biting the side of her lip, she added, “For…taking care of my…shit.”

  The curse sounded so forced. He never noticed it before, probably since every other time she’d cursed, she’d been angry.

  His lips twitched, fighting a smile. “Don’t ever need to thank me for handling your shit.”

  She looked away. “Complex.”

  He leaned in. “Come again?”

  “You’re the most complex man I’ve ever met.”

  “I’m not. It’s just you don’t know me that well. I don’t know you well either. Since we’ll be living together, we’ll learn, quick.”

  She nodded.

  ****

  Tiffany woke in the middle of the night with a jolt. She sat up in bed and did what she always did, scanned the room.

  She couldn’t see. It was dark, the light in her bathroom had been turned off. Not good. She left it on, always. In fact, she couldn’t sleep without it on.

  Hands shaking, heart pounding, she took a deep breath and pulled her covers aside, reaching into her nightstand for the can of pepper spray.

  Her gaze adjusting to the dark landed on her parted bedroom door. A bad sign. She always locked it, couldn’t sleep unless she did.

  She stood slowly so as to not make a sound then treaded toward the door.

  A figure came into view, tall, broad. She let out a scream, lifted the can of pepper spray, and let loose.

  “Fuck!”

  Oh, shit. She knew that voice. Thomas. How could she have forgotten he was there? How could she have forgotten he took care of her stalker?

  He let out a slew of curses, one hand covering his eyes, the other reaching into her room. He flicked on the lights.

  Um. Wow. Thomas shirtless, all muscle, every inch like something out of a magazine, pecs, abs, that “V” muscle near his hips. On the left side of his lower abdomen, he had a tattoo, the club’s insignia, the same on the back of their leathers, a beautiful set of intricate, lifelike wings burning in flames with a skull in the middle. Under it read, “Hell Ryders MC.” Somehow the position and intricacy perfectly complemented the tattoo covering the length of his arm that spread to one of his pecs.

  Damn.

  “Tiff. What the fuck?”

  Her gaze snapped to his face. “I-I’m sorry I thought…”

  He strode into her room and then bathroom, flipping the light on.

  She followed behind. “I’m sorry…I… You scared me.”

  He turned on the faucet, bent over, and splashed water on his face repeatedly. “Fuckin’ shit. This shit stings like a motherfucker.”

  Yeah, that was the point. “I’m sorry…I… The bathroom light wasn’t on. I always leave it on, and the door in my room was open, and I always lock it…”

  He faced her, eyes red-rimmed, droplets of water cascading down his face and chest. Her gaze trailed down following the rivulets.

  “Tiff?”

  She snapped her stare back to his and bit the side of her lip. His eyes seemed to be getting redder. Her fault. She swallowed then spoke. “I’m sorry. I didn’t—”

  Hiding a smile, he shook his head. “My fault. Shouldn’t’ve unlocked your door and turned off your light.”

  Of course, he had. Why wouldn’t he? Thomas had no limits. He did what he wanted when he wanted. She didn’t know him well, but she knew this.

  Crazy, it appealed to her.

  Insane, it made her feel safe.

  “How did you…um…” She looked away. “…Unlock my door?”

  “Picked it.”

  She tensed, her eyes shooting to his and narrowing.

  “Don’t give me shit about that.” He smirked. “If your door’s locked, I can’t get to you.”

  Made sense. Still couldn’t he have told her this before she fell asleep? “Why’d you turn off my light?”

  He shrugged, his gaze slid down her neck then lower.

  She glanced down. She wore her nighty, a royal blue teddy with black lace on the edges that did little to hide her B-cup breasts. Cheeks flaming, she crossed her arms over her chest.

  His gaze snapped back to hers and hardened. “The prick ever been in your apartment?”

  Geez. What was with him? Smiling and joking one minute then angry the next? “W-what?”

  “Your stalker. He ever been in here?”

  “We went on a couple of dates, so yeah.” A couple of dates it took her to realize something was off about him. She’d been right but figured it out too late.

  His jaw went hard. “Meaning you invited him in.”

  She nodded.

  The vein in his neck pulsed. “He ever been in here when he wasn’t invited?”

  She didn’t want to answer but didn’t lie quick enough.

  His eyes widened. “I’m taking that as a yes. Probably why you lock your bedroom door and leave the light on.”

  Yep.

  “What I don’t get is why the hell you’d wear something like that…” His gaze shot to her chest then met hers again and further hardened. “When the prick’s been in here before.”

  “Um… You said you took care of him.”

  He cocked his head. “Then why did you lock your door and leave the light on?”

  Damn, a good point. Still, she had to defend herself. “Am I supposed to stop living because he’s sick?”

  “Don’t tell me you didn’t change when this shit went down. You lock your bedroom door, leave lights on, and scan your apartment the moment you walk in. Don’t tell me it never occurred to you to sleep in something less revealing in case the asshole broke into this place.”

  Damn, another valid point. She changed plenty, checking locks two or three times before bed, leaving lights on. She took several self-defense classes too, carried pepper spray on her key chain, and so on. Paranoid, maybe, except she had reason. Still, she never thought about changing what she wore to bed. She should’ve, and the fact she didn’t made her feel like an idiot. “I changed the locks, and I put alarms on the windows. It’s how he got in the last time.”

  His jaw twitched, face flushed. “The last time!” He leaned into her. His breaths hit her face when he said, “So there was more than one time?”

  It was late, and she didn’t want to talk about this. Actually, she didn’t want to discuss this at all. Plus, he was getting angry, really angry in a way he’d probably find her stalker and do something he could get arrested for. Again. He already took care of him. She didn’t know what that meant exactly, though she figured it probably included a beating. She didn’t want to think about what he’d do if he knew all the details.

  Keeping calm
and her voice level, she quirked a brow. “Can we talk about this tomorrow?”

  “No, we’re gonna talk about this shit right now.”

  “You already took care of him, so—”

  “Yeah, but I can take care of him in a way he never fucks with anyone’s head ever again, in a way he won’t be breathing anyone’s air.”

  The color faded from her face.

  His arm shot out. “Surprised? It scare you? You gonna be afraid of me now?”

  “No,” she whispered. Not a lie, the truth. It didn’t surprise her, but it did worry her. It could land him in jail for a lot longer than the last time.

  Even to her, this rationale sounded absurd. She was scared for him but not of him after he admitted he’d kill a man?

  Her stalker terrified her. In fact, she’d never been that afraid in her life. Considering she was a magnet for shit men, that said a lot. In a matter of two months, she changed the way she lived, barely went out unless she had a class, checked every door, every window countless times, jumped at any sound. When she went to the police, they told her there was little they could do. Worse, another woman reported she’d been stalked by the same man. Then when he broke into her home, her main concern had been getting him out. He threatened her, told her if she called the cops, he’d do something much worse to her and her friends, so she hadn’t.

  She supposed a man who preyed on women and got off on terrifying them wasn’t a good person, but it didn’t mean he deserved to die. It meant he should be locked up, forever.

  Still, she should be scared of Thomas, afraid of anyone capable of killing another. She couldn’t explain it fully, except that she knew Thomas would never hurt her. For years, all he did was save her.

  “Don’t kill him, Thomas. You’ll end up in prison. Then you’ll be losing pussy for a lifetime.”

  His eyes flared. “Trying to be funny? This isn’t funny! I’m serious!”

  Even though he screamed again, she kept her composure. “I’m serious, too. You kill him, your life’s over. The club would miss you. Your family would miss you.”

  “The club would go on. My biological brothers wouldn’t give a rat’s ass, and my mom would continue to work her ass into the ground to spoil them.”

  She swallowed. “I would miss you.”

  He stilled, his eyes growing hard in a sad way. She’d seen that look once before.

  “And not because you’re always saving me.”

  His gaze warmed. He released a breath, and the tension lining his shoulders melted. When he spoke again, his voice softened. “How many times did he get in here?”

  “Twice.”

  His jaw hardened but his eyes remained soft. “Did you call the cops?”

  She shook her head. “He said he’d hurt Donna and Marianne if I did, and by that point, I couldn’t get away from him. He always followed me. He would’ve known the minute I walked into the police department. I could’ve called, but I was…” scared.

  He wrapped his arms around her and tugged her, plastering her against him. Her cheek on the hard planes of his chest, his warmth permeating her skin, she circled her arms around his waist and held on. Her nipples hardened under her teddy. He stilled, pulling his lower body away from hers. Face flaming, she released him and took a step back.

  “Should’ve called me, Tiff.”

  She spared a glance at him. “Yeah, I should’ve.”

  He grinned. “Finally gets it.”

  She chuckled softly. “Promise me you won’t kill him, Thomas.”

  Lifting a brow, he shot back, “You think I’ll keep my promise when you didn’t keep yours?”

  She smirked. “I know you would because you’re that type of man.”

  A small smile played at his lips. “What type of man?”

  “The type who keeps his promises.”

  His gaze further softened. “Yeah?”

  She nodded. “So are you going to promise me?”

  He shook his head. “I can’t ’cause if he fucks with you again, baby girl, I’ll kill him.”

  Her brows furrowed. “I wouldn’t want you to. I wouldn’t want you to—”

  “I know, and I’ll try my hardest to keep it in mind if he fucks with you again, but I don’t know what he’s capable of. What I do know, he hurts you, nothing can stop me from putting him in the ground, so I can’t promise you.”

  Tiffany wanted to ask why. She did but couldn’t force the words out of her mouth. She didn’t want to hear him admit what she thought to be true, didn’t want to hear he protected her because he still saw her as that helpless sixteen-year-old girl.

  Chapter Four

  Drenched in sweat after a long workout, Cuss thanked God for gyms. Sometimes it was the only thing that took the edge off. After the last couple of days and because it had been even longer since he’d worked out, he needed a good one.

  He was still angry Tiff hadn’t gone to him. Some of it wore off after their conversation last night, namely after hearing her say she’d miss him if he got locked up, but his anger resurfaced every time he saw her do something like double check her door was locked, and he remembered how bad that asshole fucked with her.

  Not wanting to leave Tiff, he hadn’t considered going to a nearby gym since it meant he’d have to take her along. He didn’t want to do that after he dragged her to the mall to purchase clothes and necessities, which he desperately needed considering he hadn’t packed. In truth, he hadn’t planned on staying. He’d been too focused on beating the prick he hadn’t thought ahead.

  So he relegated himself to doing pushups in her living room. When she caught him, she told him they had a gym in her building. He told her he didn’t mind working out in the living room. She insisted, so he plainly told her no way he’d leave her alone. She said she wouldn’t be. Donna and Marianne would be there soon. Only when they arrived and assured him they wouldn’t let anyone in did he agree.

  He took her phone and searched for his number, smiling when he realized she still had it saved. He stored his number in her speed dial then looked to her, standing in her kitchen pouring a glass of wine.

  “Baby girl?”

  She glared, set the bottle on the counter, and crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m not a baby, and I’m not a girl, Cuss.”

  He smiled wide, handed her the phone, then gripped her hip and hauled her toward him suddenly. She let out a small gasp and tilted her head to meet his gaze. One of the things he loved about her, she was tiny compared to him, always had to look up. When he held her, he could encase her whole body in his.

  “I’m first on your speed dial. Anyone knocks, you don’t open. You call me someone knocks, kicks, slides a note under your door, or does anything else. You don’t leave this apartment, you call me.”

  “Are you going to stop calling me ‘baby girl’?”

  He smiled wider. Before he could stop himself, he leaned in, pressed his lips against her forehead, picked up her keys, and strode out the door.

  As the memory came to mind, he grinned. He took off his sweat-soaked shirt, grabbed the keys from beside the bench, and headed out of the gym. After climbing two flights of stairs, he went to unlock the door and hesitated, deciding to knock instead. A moment later, Tiff parted the door, barefoot, wearing a pair of jeans that fit her like a glove and a loose shirt that hung off her shoulder.

  His stomach knotted. Happened every time. He should be used to it by now, but he wasn’t.

  Her gaze hit his then trailed down his chest. It’d become a habit of hers to do that, and he loved it so much at that moment he was considering never wearing a shirt again.

  “Tiff?”

  Her gaze snapped to his, and her face flushed a pretty pink shade. She did that a lot, too. He liked it, had always liked it but loved it when she did it after he caught her checking him out.

  “Trying to get me to spank you again, baby girl?”

  She flushed a brighter shade. “W-what?”

  “I know you liked it, but this ain�
�t the way.”

  “What?”

  He wanted to lean into her just so he could feel the warmth of her spread over him, but he couldn’t, not soaked in sweat. “Told you to call me anyone knocks.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “I looked through the peephole. I knew it was you.”

  He couldn’t help it then and leaned into her, forcing her to further angle her head. “Shouldn’t be looking through the peephole ’cause don’t know if you’ve heard, bullets go through doors.”

  “Annoying,” she mumbled then turned on her heel.

  Before she could take a step, he grasped her arm and tugged her making her face him again. “Next time, I spank you.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “You—”

  “Don’t try me, baby girl.” He couldn’t help but add the last part knowing it’d get a reaction out of her, and he loved when she reacted, too. Her green eyes glimmered, her face flushed, and though she held her composure, never raising her voice, she gave him lip.

  “I’m not a baby, and I’m not a girl.”

  He chuckled, released her, and strode inside. She backed away. He closed the door with his foot.

  “You’re being an asshole again.”

  “Only ’cause you get cute when you’re angry.”

  Her eyes widened.

  Guess she didn’t like being cute. “It was a compliment.”

  She released a breath. Then her face changed. He didn’t know how to describe it, but he knew how it made him feel—sad.

  “Dinner will be ready when you’re done with your shower.”

  He lifted a brow. “You cooked?”

  She nodded.

  “For me?”

  “Well, yeah, for both of us. Donna and Marianne can’t stay. Donna is breaking our ‘no studying on Sundays’ rule since finals are coming up, and Marianne has a date.”

  She cooked for him. Him. No one had ever cooked for him. Well, except for his mother, but it happened less and less after his father left. He hadn’t had a home-cooked meal for close to eleven years.

  She was the type of rich girl who’d cook for her family instead of having a maid do it, the type of woman who got pleasure out of cooking meals for her man.

  His chest tightening, he smiled. “Haven’t had a home-cooked meal in ages.”