Page 30 of It’s Always Been You (Always #1)

“We’ll see,” Travis said in a more level voice. “You can never resist my cock.” His eyes slanted to her teasingly.

“Never knew a man who could resist a blow job.”

Travis tensed beside her; the air turning frosty having nothing to do with the blasting AC. “Was there someone else other than Cooper you’ve given blow jobs to?”

Caitlin realized how her statement came across. “I mean generally. What—what I read in magazines. And where the hell did that come from?”

Travis didn’t answer her, just stared fixedly in the distance.

“That statement was made in poor taste, Travis.”

“Was there someone other than Cooper?” Travis repeated. His knuckles turned white as he gripped the steering wheel tightly.

“I’m not answering that,” Caitlin fired back. “My time with Jase is my own. You don’t get to be a part of that.”

She fisted her hand in her mouth to stop her from saying something more hurtful.

“Fuck!” Travis growled, hitting his palm on the dashboard.

It was going to be a long drive.

They arrived in the town of Iron Ridge late in the evening. Instead of going to a diner, Travis suggested they just head to the local bar that was known for their microbrew choices and their farm-to-table philosophy.

They had reservations at the Bluebell Bed and Breakfast under the name, Mr. and Mrs. Travis Bennett.

The country inn had three suites and five regular rooms. They managed to snag a suite because of a cancellation.

Caitlin hated that she and Travis were barely civil to each other.

Their tiff in the car caused a very uncomfortable four-hour drive, rife with tension, neither willing to apologize.

She refused to censor her words all the time.

The statement wouldn’t have been a big deal if she had all her memories. Travis needed to get over her past.

It was a hot and humid night, so she pulled out one of her strapless dresses with a flounce skirt.

Iron Ridge was a small community known for an eclectic mix of people from hippies and hipsters to bikers.

So really anything went. She’d probably dress biker chic tomorrow, and was curious what Travis would think of that.

Travis emerged from the bathroom, towel around his hips, which he quickly discarded to dry his hair and back further.

Caitlin managed not to react from the display of chiseled perfection.

The rippling of muscles under taut skin as he rubbed the towel against himself was infinitely erotic.

It didn’t help that he had a magnificent ass and imagining how it flexed as he pounded inside her— Whew, it’s getting hot in here.

She concentrated on gathering her hair up in a messy knot, ignoring the heat that flushed her skin before simmering down to her belly.

She could feel her core start to swell with arousal. Stop it!

When she turned from the lighted vanity table, she drew in a ragged breath. Travis was watching her with a predatory gaze. His eyes never wavered even as he buttoned on a white linen shirt. Thankfully, he had already put on cargo shorts.

“I’m ready.” Caitlin hated how her voice quivered.

“You look nice,” Travis said.

Okay, they were still pissed at each other.

Nice? What happened to sexy or gorgeous?

Clearly her man was trying to get a rise out of her.

She childishly didn’t want to give in and say he looked devastatingly handsome.

The white shirt played against his tan. What was he trying to do, give all the estrogen in the bar apoplexy ?

“Can we get moving? I’m hungry,” Caitlin groused.

Travis shrugged as he sat on the bed to put on his sneakers. He rose slowly and rested his hand on the small on her back to nudge her forward. “Come on.”

Foster Bar was already hopping. The hostess sat them at a corner booth, leaving them with a couple of menus.

There was a game room in the back with a couple of pool tables.

Dark wood vaulted ceilings, a nickel-plated bar, and a collection of antique-looking tables and chairs brought a uniqueness to this place that suited the quaint town.

One end of the main room had a communal table that was presently occupied by a group of bikers and their women.

Caitlin knew a bit about biker culture from watching a popular series on TV.

Some of the women were called “sweet butts,” who were like groupies that hung around the club.

They were property of the club and had its protection.

Others had earned the position as an “old lady,” who was a biker’s steady girl or wife.

Hipsters in their tight jeans and vintage clothes filled the other side of the establishment.

They were huddled together discussing politics and art.

Some were busy on their smartphones texting or posting on some social media website.

One thing Caitlin would say though, there was no shortage of tattooed bodies around. Travis himself had ink on his back.

“Interesting place,” Travis murmured above the din of chatter, clinking bottles, and laughter. His eyes were watchful. He was frowning at the group of bikers. More than a couple of them had turned their heads when she and Travis walked in.

Their server stopped by and set glasses of water on the table. “Anything to drink besides water?”

“What do you have on tap?”

The waitress rattled off a couple of local brews, plus the standard fare of Bud and Heineken.

Both of them ordered a pilsner. For dinner, Travis chose the grass-fed porterhouse steak, and Caitlin went with the lamb burger with tzatziki sauce.

They were sitting side by side on the booth, Travis’s thighs rubbing languidly against hers.

Caitlin ignored his underhanded tactic of seducing her to revert to the status quo.

He was out of line earlier and he needed to apologize.

They did make small talk over dinner. About how juicy the burger was, or how Travis still preferred the taste of corn-fed beef.

But their tone was more as acquaintances.

Caitlin made some inane comment about the interesting architecture of the bar.

Travis mentioned the following day’s weather forecast and some of the activities they could do.

“Do you want to head back to the inn? Or do you want to grab a couple of drinks?” Travis asked. He signaled for the check.

“I’m not tired. We can hang out here for a couple of drinks.”

“I’ll settle the bill for dinner, and we can move to the bar and open a new tab.”

Caitlin nodded and motioned for Travis to get out of the booth. He frowned at her. “Where are you going?”

“Ladies room.” She made to flounce off, but Travis caught her arm.

“Wait a sec, I’ll go with you.”

“Don’t be silly. See that line there?” Caitlin pointed to the far corner where a couple of women were texting on their phone or chatting with each other. “That’s the ladies room line.”

She tried to pull her arm again. “Caitlin.” His voice was firm, his mask of indifference dissolving.

Either it was the alcohol, or she was just plain exasperated at him. She yanked her arm out of his grasp and said not too quietly, “Jesus, Travis. It’s just the ladies room! ”

Their server appeared with their check distracting Travis enough so she could stomp off before he could stop her.

The line seemed to move quickly, or it seemed some of the women changed their minds about using the restroom when five biker chicks appeared behind her.

They were talking loudly, and were bumping against her.

If Caitlin didn’t know better, she’d think they were doing it deliberately.

When she entered the ladies room, the furthest of the three stalls was the one empty.

Two of the biker chicks following in behind her became obnoxious as they pounded on the other two stalls to hurry up the occupants.

Caitlin shook her head and did her business.

There was a cackle of laughter that sent goose bumps of alarm up her arms. She suddenly didn’t have a good feeling about this.

When she stepped out of her stall, biker chick #1 was sitting on the sink, eyeing her maliciously while biker chick #2 was leaning nonchalantly against the ladies room door, inspecting her hot pink acrylic nails.

Caitlin walked over to the other sink. “There’s a line out the door,” Caitlin said as she washed her hands. “If you girls are not using the restroom, you might want to let the others in.”

“Aw . . . isn’t she an upstanding citizen.” Biker chick #1 leaned over and peered at Caitlin. “Your man is hot, darling. And our own man Duke thinks you’re pretty cute. Although, he hasn’t seen your scar up close. Hey, Marnie, you think Duke will like this chick after all?”

“All he wants is her cunt, Star.”

The women laughed. Caitlin, having had enough, moved to the door. “Let me out.”

Star jumped off from the sink and immediately yanked Caitlin’s hair. “We tell you when you can leave.” The woman hissed at her and released her hair.

There was a rap on the door. Marnie opened it to a tall, blond biker. He was wearing only leather cuts over bare skin. He was exceedingly attractive in a sun-kissed surfer way. His muscular arms were covered with sleeve tattoos, and several chains adorned his neck.

“They treat you all right, doll face?” the newcomer asked, surprisingly courteous.

Caitlin pursed her lips mutinously.

“Damn it, Star, Marnie. Did you bitches scare the poor thing?” blond biker guy snapped.

“Aw, Duke, she didn’t wanna wait for you,” Star whined.

“My husband’s waiting for me,” Caitlin informed them bitingly.

“Now, we know you’re lying, girl,” Duke said. “He’s got a wedding ring, you don’t. Something’s telling me your man is cheating on his wife with you. Don’t blame him, nice piece of ass you are. So, I’m here to be your savior.”

What the fuck? The situation was too ridiculous for Caitlin to even contemplate.