Page 4 of Slayin Villain (Royal Bastards MC: Nashville, TN #11)

Ember

If you want to get noticed in a room full of leather and testosterone, you don’t bring your fiddle.

You bring fire.

And tonight, I was burning from the inside out.

Royal Road was packed wall to wall, sweetbutts strutting, Ol’ Ladies gossiping, outlaws doing business in the shadows. The band wasn’t playing tonight, so I had no reason to be there.

But I showed up anyway. Dressed for war.

Tight black dress. Thigh-high boots. Hair straightened and flat-ironed to hell.

Lips painted in blood red. I looked nothing like the quiet fiddle player from Eve’s band.

Not the girl who used to stand stage-left while Rome melted faces with his guitar solos and pretended I wasn’t his dirty little secret.

No. Tonight, I was the girl everyone would notice.

Especially him.

Rome sat near the bar, prospect patch crooked, arm around a girl whose name I didn’t bother to learn. He didn’t see me right away, too busy whispering into her ear and laughing like we hadn’t spent the better part of two years in bed or fighting on the back of his Harley.

Let him rot.

Villain found me before I had a chance to second-guess anything. He leaned against the pool table like he’d been carved from sin, blond, inked, and way too pretty for his own good. He looked like the kind of man who wouldn’t care if I was using him. The kind who liked being a weapon.

And I needed one.

“Damn, Ember,” he drawled, eyes dragging down my body like a slow lick. “You clean up too good. You might get me killed.”

I smirked. “Then die slow, baby.”

His brows lifted. “That a promise?”

“Only if you play along.”

He knew what I wanted. I'd laid it out clearly a couple of weeks before. No strings. No feelings. Just make Rome jealous, maybe get a rise out of the club, then walk away clean. Villain was on board. Said he was bored. Said it sounded fun. Let’s not talk about what happened afterwards. A mistake, I didn’t plan to make again.

He stepped in close, crowding my space until my back hit the edge of the pool table. “You sure you can handle what comes with being on my arm?”

“Are you?”

He grinned. “Let’s make 'em sweat.”

We walked to the bar together like something real. Like we belonged. His hand on my lower back, lips brushing my temple every time someone looked too long. It wasn’t hard. He smelled like leather and sin. Moved like sex. Talked like a man who’d made women beg just to be called his.

Rome noticed us by the time we crossed the room.

His expression cracked for half a second, jealousy, maybe? Then it was gone, buried beneath that cocky prospect smirk and a new girl on his lap.

Fine. Two could play that game.

Villain turned toward me, voice low. “He watching?”

I nodded, just once.

“Then kiss me.”

I hesitated. Just for a breath.

Then I grabbed the front of his cut, pulled him down, and kissed him like I meant it.

It was supposed to be for show.

It wasn’t.

His mouth was hot and hungry, and the way he gripped my waist like he owned it made me feel... wanted. Not used. Not ignored. Wanted.

I pulled back first, breathless.

Villain stared at me for a beat too long. “Shit, Ember.”

“Yeah,” I whispered. “Just for show, remember?”

He nodded, but the way his eyes dragged down my body again said otherwise.

Later that night, I ended up in his bed, again.

Because of course I did.

We didn’t talk about it. Didn’t need to. He opened his door, and I walked in like he was mine.

He stripped me slow, like he had all the time in the world, eyes full of fire and filthy promises. My dress hit the floor. His hands replaced it, running over every inch of me like he was mapping me out.

I told myself it didn’t mean anything when he whispered my name against my skin. Told myself I was still in control when I moaned for him, loud and wrecked.

He didn’t ask for more.

He just took what I gave. And gave it back harder.

We broke his headboard. Woke the neighbors. I left scratches down his spine and bite marks on his collarbone. He made me come so hard I forgot my own name.

And afterward, when I curled into his side and he didn’t pull away, I reminded myself.

This was pretend.

Just pretend. And just sex.

Even if it didn’t feel like it anymore.