Page 12

Kenna

I put off seeing Puck for as long as I could.

Admittedly, that wasn’t very hard. Hanging out with Riley and Dylan was fun.

Riley told us all about law school in Vegas, their apartment, and made me envious of how in love they were.

I’d never have imagined Cam willingly leaving Dry Valley with anyone.

He’d cross oceans for her. A point he’d made abundantly clear when she didn’t come down after more than an hour, and he came up to claim her. Unlike Jester, he knocked.

Dylan went down to check the bar—which was technically her job, as an employee of the Desert Kings—and left me alone with nothing left to do, but seek out Puck.

Oddly, anything sexual or sensual, even flirting, had never made me nervous before. Seeing Jester after the kiss was fine. I didn’t see Ghost, think of losing my virginity, or any of the times after.

But even thinking about Puck sent me right back to the tattoo studio.

I was both aroused and embarrassed by the memory as I jogged downstairs and glanced around the clubhouse.

A half-drunk Cam swayed with Riley on the dance floor.

Jester held court, as he often did, at the pool tables…

flirting with patch bunnies. AP and Dekes sat at the bar in a heated debate, and Dylan, in all her tall, glorious fury, chewed out Drop Top Randy likely for something misogynistic he’d said to rile her up.

I was home.

Ghost stopped me at the end of the bar, near the door.

His head was clean shaven except for the short, thin fauxhawk.

I wanted to smack him right in the ghost flames tattooed on either side of his head.

Skinny little fucker. After making out with Jester and doing whatever I’d done with Puck…

Ghost wasn’t nearly as impressive as he’d once been.

“Hey.” He held another beer for Jester.

The desire to cuss him out was too strong to say anything at all. I hadn’t seen him since that night. I’d blocked his number. Stayed away too long because the thought of this moment made me sick to my stomach.

“You got a minute?” he asked before glancing over my shoulder.

I followed his gaze to where Jester watched us, eyes narrowed.

“That’s right, you’re his problem now, aren’t you?” But I grinned at Jester. A everything’s okay smile. Then I sighed and tapped my foot with impatience. “I don’t have all night.”

“I just wanted to say that I’m sorry for everything. We’ve done a lot of fucked up shit to each other over the years, but you deserved better.”

Most of the fucked-up shit he’d done. I didn’t point that out.

“Well, thanks.” There was too much between us to be stitched together with a simple apology. He was smart enough to know that. “I need to go.”

He didn’t stop me.

Puck wasn’t in the clubhouse so I assumed he was still outside.

Before I could make it to the door, Ghost trotted after me. “Be careful, okay? You being back has the patch bunnies circling, talking shit, and spreading rumors since Desert Lights. David’s ole lady, man…” He lingered over each description as if I’d forgotten.

Nobody, especially not any of those bitches, should know anything at all. Hell, he didn’t. Because the only Kings there that night sat around a table.

“What are you trying to say, Zach?” I used his first name, ignoring his position, albeit lowly, in the MC.

“It’s not the reputation you need, everyone saying you’re screwing the entire table.”

“Are you serious right now?” I spun, angry. This bullshit from him is the reason I’d stayed away so long.

Maybe Ghost didn’t shoulder the blame for every shitty thing in my life, but he had shoveled a lot of it. “The jealous shit never suited you.”

Ghost balked, as if he couldn’t believe I’d say that to him, like telling me rumors I’d already figured out was somehow putting him on my side.

“Jealous? You want to fuck half the Desert Kings, be my guest. I was just looking out for you.”

“Fuck you.” I snorted, shoved past him, and used my hip to open the door. It wasn’t a busy weekend, not yet, so there were maybe ten people around the big fire. Mostly Desert Kings. Some were in chairs with their ole ladies on their laps.

Then there was Puck. He stood at the fire, gazing into it, arms folded across his chest. In silhouette, he looked almost contemplative.

As the heavy steel door slammed shut with a clang, most of them turned, including the big guy. He was moving before I could get to the fire. “You alright?”

“Jesus, what is it with you guys? I’m not a broken plate or some shit. I’m fine.” I dug around in my pocket and pulled out the jewelry I’d bought and thrust it at him. “I don’t want cow udders. And they are starting to hurt.”

He rubbed his lips together to keep from smiling.

“Not in a good way.” I punched his stomach harder than I should have, but he didn’t even flinch.

“Come on.” He draped an arm over my shoulder and led me back in, stopping at the bottom of the stairs that led up to the bedrooms and the bathroom most of us girls used. “Let me grab my shit.”

Over near the stage, where he often set up his station, there was a cabinet with drawers. He snatched a bag from there and moved through the crowd back to me. Or rather, he parted the crowd, most people choosing to step out of his way before he took the first step.

It was oddly sexy. Then again, everything he did was. Little tendrils of anticipation coiled low in my stomach.

“Where you want to do it?” I asked as he started up the steps behind me.

“Sweetheart, I can do it anywhere.”

I snapped my head around to get caught up in that same hazy, heated look he’d had at the tattoo shop. I swallowed hard. Already the patch bunnies had their heads together, whispering. Then I caught sight of Ghost over his shoulder. The face he made said I told you so .

Bored biker groupies skulked around us. Fuck them.

I flipped off Ghost and marched up the rest of the steps, down the hall, and into the farthest bathroom with the big counter by the sink. A favorite of the coke whores, but clean because it was the one Dylan always used when she was here.

Shutting the bathroom door did more than drown out the music and chatter.

The thin wood hid me from all the stares.

The tidy room smelled of lemony cleaner, likely thanks to Dylan, and gave the impression of privacy.

Except, I clearly wasn’t alone. Puck’s sheer size ate up most of the space, forcing me to stand close.

My thigh pressed against his, my stomach against his groin.

That brief contact turned me inside out.

The water ran in the sink and Puck took his time washing his hands, rubbing the sudsy foam all over. “I don’t have any gloves here.” He cut off the water, stepped back from the sink, and dried his hands with paper towels, then wiped water droplets from the counter.

“That’s fine.” More than fine. Puck’s hands on me would be hellish hot.

I hopped up on the edge of the counter and pulled the cropped t-shirt off. I was still good and pissed, but that didn’t stop the shot of arousal when Puck’s gaze drifted lazily over my bare breasts.

His fingers twitched like he wanted to touch me. But he kept his hands to himself and his gaze down, using two fingers to twist off the end ball on my right nipple.

The brush of his warm fingers was the most action I’d had since the last time I’d seen him. Sure, The Black Cat was a den of sensuality, but it was nothing compared to Puck and all the things he made me crave.

Tingles of pleasure radiated from the contact. I sucked air between my teeth and gripped the edge of the counter before I embarrassed myself again. My level of self-control was something to be proud of. Especially when I was seconds away from climbing him like a sexy ass tree.

Puck chuckled. The raspy sound chased his warm breath across my bare breasts and I swallowed a moan.

“How bad’s the pain?”

“Not really at all until they catch on something. They itch sometimes and are really sensitive.”

He swabbed the first one with some solution and I jumped. His large hands were gentle when he inserted the smaller barbell. Instantly, the piercing was more comfortable than it had been in days. The relief dotted my skin with gooseflesh.

“Not much swelling and you’re healing well. Probably won’t need me to change them again. Next time, you can. But I’d wait about six months.”

“Well, damn. I like it when you do it.” The words rolled out of my mouth before I could even consider stopping them.

“I bet you do” He repeated the process on the other nipple, then gestured for me to turn around and look in the mirror.

I slid from the counter and examined myself. He hadn’t moved, so when I did, my ass slide down his groin, to his thighs. When I wiggled a little, he didn’t budge, and my heartbeat kicked up.

My breasts weren’t large, but the pretty purple barbells made them look bigger, sexier.

“I love it.” Through the mirror he watched, his gaze drifting down over his handiwork and left little prickles of excitement lighting all over my skin.

“Looks good.” His gruff response almost made me purr.

Instead, I arched against him a little. This time, his arousal grated against the top of my ass.

I hadn’t planned on showing them off, but they made me feel pretty. Puck admiring them made me feel something else entirely. He caught my gaze, and there was hunger in his gray eyes that I felt all the way to my core.

The feeling moved through me, warming and making me want to touch him more. I lifted up on my tiptoes and arched, so his erection was pressed firmly between my ass cheeks.

He was so much bigger than me. In the mirror, that size difference was intimidating and sexy all at the same time.

I couldn’t tear my eyes from his reflection as he bent so that he could nuzzle my hair, inhaling my scent.

One big hand splayed across my stomach and guided me back against him so he could grind his hips into me.

Holy fuck. Puck Kelly was dry humping me in a Desert Kings’ bathroom. Eat that, patch bunnies.

I felt so small and so safe that even the music and laughter from the clubhouse beneath us couldn’t break into that cocoon. When I shifted, dropping flatfooted and wiggling against him again, the width of his erection raked against the small of my back.

Arousal made me warm as I pulled his hand up over my stomach to cover one breast. “Looks better like that.”

“Does it?” He made a slow circle with his palm against the sensitive nub. It ached and teased all at once. “It’ll look even better if I’m sucking on it.”

Oh, how I wished. “People are already talking like it happened. Might as well.”

He froze, his entire body tense and angry against me. “Who?”

His face in the mirror was hard like granite. “Kenna, who is talking shit about you?”

He squeezed my breast, hard, and the pain rippled through me and made me groan with pleasure. “Nobody.”

A gruff sound rumbled in his throat as he released me, giving me a reprieve before squeezing again. His other hand splayed wide over my stomach and edged down, fingertips hovering at the hem of my short denim skirt.

“Puck, please.” Please, what? Keep hurting me? Slide his hands lower and touch me… everywhere?

Yes. All of it.