Page 2 of Her Mysterious Biker (Savage Kings MC #5)
two
Orion
T he pain in my head hits faster and harder than usual—a constant reminder of the incident that led to my honorable discharge from the Army. They said it was ‘an accident,’ ‘friendly fire’ that caused the avalanche of rocks I couldn’t outrun, leaving me with a traumatic brain injury.
It’s been a long time since I’ve had a migraine this bad. Usually, I can push through until after our ride, then go back to my room at the clubhouse and sleep it off without anyone noticing how severe the headaches are.
I need to get Stevie home before things get any worse—I can’t risk anything happening to her if the pain takes over and we crash. Her warm thigh under my hand helps keep the worst of the pain at bay for now.
I turn down the last block on Main Street, her house just a few feet away. She doesn’t need to give me her address—she doesn’t have to. I already know everything about Scooter girl, including her real name, before she even told me.
She’s become my secret obsession since the first day I saw her cruising around town on her light pink scooter and matching pink helmet—her long brown hair flowing out from underneath the helmet.
The urge to wrap my hand around that long hair as I bring her lips to mine in a desperate kiss grips me tightly.
Nighttime is the worst. My dreams are filled with her sweet smile and lush curves. In my dreams, she lets me touch her all over, bringing her to orgasm night after night. If she knew my wicked thoughts, she would never have gotten on the back of my bike.
The left side of my face begins to itch, the scars from the fire all those years ago acting up, reminding me she's only mine in my dreams. Like a lovesick fool, I’ve watched her from a distance, never risking fate by shopping at Bloom & Bounty.
Instead, I have Tank and Jet, a couple of our current Prospects, pick up whatever I need from the grocery store to keep her from seeing my disfigured face.
I know I should keep both hands on my bike, but I can’t pull my hand away from her warm thigh, even if my life depended on it.
Combine the feel of her bare skin on my palm and the heat from her core radiating through those ridiculously way too short shorts, branding my back, I could die a happy man.
Another wave of pain shoots through my head just as we pull up to her rental house. It’s small, but she’s added a family of ceramic lawn gnomes in her front yard, giving it a quirky feel just like her.
Reluctantly, I pull my hand away from her thigh and turn off my bike.
Gathering the last of my strength, I reach back and take her hand, helping her off the back of my bike.
A sharper wave of pain hits, making my body jerk and my shoulders slump forward just as she has both feet on the asphalt road.
“Orion!” She pushes her shoulder beneath mine to help lift me up. “Are you okay?” The concern in her voice is sweet, but the pain in my head is almost too much to bear.
I want to tell her I’ll be okay—that I just need to go back to the clubhouse and lie down for a bit. I’m just not sure how I’m going to get there. But that’s my problem, not hers. I open my mouth to tell her that, but all that comes out is one word, “bed.”
“Of course.” She guides my leg over my bike, struggling to keep her balance under my weight as she helps me stand. “I’ll help you into my house and into my bed.”
I shift my gaze to her face, the clear shield on her helmet not hiding the pink blush on her cheeks. Unlike my darkened face shield, which covers my face and blocks the sun—something that can trigger my migraines, not ideal for a biker, but I’ve learned to adapt to almost any situation.
Except this one.
Having her lush curves pressed against my side with the promise of lying in her bed is almost as unbearable as the pain in my head. I stumble slightly as she guides me to her front door.
“Stay with me, big guy. There is no way I can carry you to my bed alone.” She huffs out a breath, tightening her grip on my waist. “Only a few more steps.”
I’m not sure how she pulls it off, but she manages to get both of us into her house and into her bedroom. She lowers me to a sitting position on her surprisingly large king-sized bed that takes up most of the space in the room. I lean back, needing to lie down, but she stops me.
“Not yet, mystery biker. I’m going to have to take off your helmet, shoes, and leathers.”
Fuck. She’ll see my scars if I let her do that.
I make a weak effort to push her arms away as she reaches for the strap on my helmet. Quickly, she lifts the helmet off my head, leaving me exposed to her gaze.
Through the pain, I meet her gaze head-on, needing to see the pity in her eyes, which I know is coming—it always does.
From my childhood, when it first happened, to my teenage years, when I asked a girl out and got rejected, and through my time in the military, everyone always gives me that same look.
The look of disgust at the angry, twisted flesh that marks my face.
The only people who accept me as I am, are my brothers in the Savage Kings.
I hold my breath, waiting for that look to meet mine through her eyes, but it never happens. Instead, she places my helmet on the bed, leans down, and kisses the scars.
“My brave warrior. You’ve been through Hell and back, haven’t you?” I’m too overwhelmed by her caring acceptance to speak. “Let’s get you out of your clothes and into bed so you can rest," she continues.
She kneels in front of me and quickly removes my boots and socks, then stands. She slips my vest over my shoulders and down my arms, carefully placing it on a chair by her bed. Next, she moves to my Henley, slowly pulling it over my head, making sure not to move my head too much.
When her soft hands touch the button on my leather pants, I let out a groan at the contact.
Her hands freeze mid-motion. “Are you okay?” She blinks at me with those exotic eyes—one blue and one brown. I could get lost in those eyes.
“I’m fine, beautiful, it’s just my head. I get headaches sometimes.” I manage to say, trying to hide my desire for her, but failing.
“Okay, well, let’s get you out of these pants so you can be more comfortable.
” She finishes unbuttoning the button, then slides the zipper down, her fingers accidentally grazing my hard length, and there is no way I can hide my large, hard cock from her gaze.
Even covered in my cotton boxer briefs, it’s hard to miss how her touch is affecting me.
“Oh.” Her breathing sounds heavy to my ears.
“Um, I need you to lift your hips so I can slip your pants down.”
“Whatever you want, beautiful,” I say, making her cheeks blush a lovely shade of pink.
I place my hands on the bed and push down, lifting my hips to give her room to slide my pants over my hips and down my thighs. Just as she finishes pulling them off my feet, I collapse back onto the bed as an intense wave of pain hits me.
The last thing I remember before finally falling asleep is her soft voice mumbling, ‘I finally have a man in my bed, and he’s asleep.
’ She tucks the blanket around my shoulders, something I don’t think anyone has ever done for me my whole life, and places a kiss on my lips—something else no one has ever done and whispers, “Good night, Orion.”
Sometime later in the night, I wake to find a warm body lying next to me. Instinctively, I wrap my arms around it and pull it closer, only half aware of my surroundings, but still enough aware that I don’t want to let this treasure go.