Chapter Four

Kylie

" H ey." I wave to Jessup as I step up beside the bar, brushing strands of hair away from my face. "The guys at table four are running empty. Can I get three more bottles of…" I pause, trying to remember what they're drinking. "Fat Tire."

"Got it, darlin'." Jessup grins like he's proud of me before turning to grab what I need.

I give myself a mental pat on the back, relieved I didn't have to write it down this time. I waitressed briefly after high school at a local diner, but it was nothing like this.

The Devil's Run is packed all night, every night. The last three nights have been absolute chaos. And aside from a couple of the other waitresses, most haven't been keen on helping me learn the ropes. As far as they're concerned, I'm the reason Shelby got booted out of here. They don't like me much so they avoid me and my section like I have a contagious disease.

Memphis is currently MIA. He stopped by briefly last night to check in, but then disappeared. Jessup says he had a charity show. He may have been willing to tell me that himself, but I avoided him when he was here.

Considering that kiss is all I've freaking thought about since the moment his lips were on mine, avoiding him seemed like the smart thing to do.

I didn't come here to fall into his arms. I didn't come here to fall for him. And yet…I feel myself slipping anyway. I think about him when I shouldn't. He's invaded my dreams, my fantasies, every waking moment. The man is haunting me, and he isn't even a ghost.

I should be relieved that he hasn't been around much. Instead, I've missed him. The bar feels empty without him. I feel cold without his eyes on me.

He spent the whole time he was here last night staring at me from behind the bar like he wanted to eat me alive. Women kept trying to flirt with him, but he wouldn't even acknowledge them. Didn't say a single word to any of them, as a matter of fact. He just stared at me the entire time.

I shouldn't like that nearly as much as I do…yet I do.

It's utter freaking ridiculousness!

I need to get it together and get him out of my head. He's like an annoyingly catchy pop song, though. He refuses to dislodge. Accepting his job offer was a terrible idea. I thought I could handle myself—that I could be here night after night and not get too close, that I could learn more about him, figure out who he really is and what makes him tick.

It was a bad idea.

I'm already too close. And I don't know how to pull back and rein myself in now. I like this version of Memphis far more than I should. So does everyone else. Everyone I've talked to respects him. They like him. Even the girls here, most of whom hate me, have nothing but good things to say about him and how well he treats them.

He isn't the same man he was when I was a kid. Because of Jayson?

"Order's up." Jessup slides three beer bottles across the bar to me, his eyes locked on the group from my booth standing around the pool tables. Concern burns in his blue-gray eyes. "Careful when you head back over there. Those two can be trouble."

I follow his gaze to the two bikers who just walked in, but they don't look any more problematic than anyone else in the bar. They're dressed in the same black boots, faded jeans, and cuts as everyone else in the bar. One of the two, a younger guy with dark hair and a wicked scar across the side of his face, holds his fist out for someone from my booth to bump. The guy with him is older, his long hair graying.

"I'll be fine," I say confidently, not particularly worried about either of them. I've been turning down bikers for the last three nights. They're all flirty and outrageous, but for the most part, they've been respectful about it. No one has crossed any lines. They flirt, I get sarcastic, and they leave me alone. It's a flawed system, but it works.

Hesitation flickers across Jessup's face, but I shoot him a calm, confident smile and scoop up the bottles. "I'm fine, Jessup. I can handle myself."

Whenever I see Memphis again, however, we're going to talk. I have a feeling he told Jessup to babysit me. That isn't what he pays him to do, and I'm a big girl. I can handle myself. I've been doing it my entire life. I don't need him treating me differently than he does anyone else here, especially when the other girls already hate me because of Shelby.

I skirt around tables and dodge bodies on my way to deliver the beer. As I move to step around the two bikers Jessup warned me about, the one with the scar steps in front of me, blocking my path.

"Hey, doll," he drawls, eyeing me like I'm the last shot of whiskey left in the bar.

"Excuse me."

He doesn't move.

Great. I guess we're doing this.

"Can I help you or are you just going to stare at me all night?"

He smirks, the scar down the side of his face pulling taut. "How about you get a couple shots for me and my brother here, and then join us? I'll save a spot for you on my lap."

"Sorry, we don't serve delusions here. Only alcohol," I shoot back, earning laughter from the other guys around the pool table. Even his brother chuckles.

Apparently, he doesn't find me nearly as funny as everyone else. His smirk slips, his stare turning cold. "You too good for us, you rude bitch?"

"Nope. Just busy and not interested."

"Didn't ask for your fuckin' schedule. You want a tip, work for it, bitch."

Out of the corner of my eye, I spot Rick, one of the bikers from my booth, haul himself upright from where he was leaning over the pool table. He sets his cue stick down, turning slowly.

"Ease off, Phantom. She's Memphis's old lady."

Memphis's old lady? What the crap? Is that why everyone is being respectful? They all think I belong to him or something?

"I am not hi—"

"Don't give a fuck," Phantom sneers. "The stuck-up bitch needs to learn some manners. I'm going to teach her. Simple mathematics."

"Chill the fuck out with that shit," Rick snaps at him. "Memphis wouldn't appreciate you talkin' to his girl like that."

"Yeah?" Phantom makes a show of looking around. "Well, Memphis ain't here, is he?" He smirks at Rick. "And unless you're still a snitchin' ass motherfucker, there's no reason he's going to find out, now is there?"

His words are a match, and Rick's temper, the gasoline. The two collide, erupting into flames without warning.

"You son of a bitch!" Rick roars, launching himself at Phantom.

Fists fly and curses bounce around the bar as a crowd quickly gathers. No one tries to intervene or break it up.

I spin, searching for Venom. I find him near the door to the bar, watching the scene unfold. He doesn't seem like he's in a big hurry to stop the fight, either.

He catches my gaze, his upper lip curling in a way that reminds me of a rabid dog. The man hates me. There's no other explanation for the way he looks at me. There's no explanation for him not helping right now, either.

I'm on my own in the middle of a fight between two bikers. Awesome.

"Jessup! I need help!" I shout, calling for backup from someone who might actually give a crap as I duck, trying to scurry out of the way.

I'm nearly out of the danger zone when Phantom spots me. Pure malice flows throw his expression as he reaches out, shoving me backward into one of Rick's biker buddies. The man's elbow catches me in the ribs—hard.

The bottles tumble from my hands, beer spilling all around me.

Glass shatters as one of the bottles breaks.

I cry out as my feet tangle, and the floor rushes up to meet me. I go down hard, landing on my ass with my hands extended to catch myself. A searing pain shoots up my left arm as a shard of glass slices my palm open. It isn't deep, but it hurts like hell.

I bite my lip, fighting the urge to cry. For some reason, I don't want to let these men see me cry. Even in the midst of the chaos, it seems important that I don't let them see my tears.

"Kylie!" Memphis roars suddenly, his voice cutting through the maelstrom.

I do sob this time—relief crashing through me when I look up and see him wading through the crowd like an avenging angel, murder stamped across his handsome face.

He storms into the fray like a demon, his eyes blazing with fury as they lock onto Phantom and Rick, who are still throwing punches. He moves with the grace of a predator, his muscles coiled and ready to strike.

In one swift motion, he grabs Phantom and Rick by the backs of their cuts, his fingers curling into the worn leather as he yanks them apart.

My heart pounds as he roars a curse, lifting them off their feet as if they weigh nothing. Their legs dangle as he holds them inches above the floor, the muscles in his arms flexed. It can't be easy to do, but he doesn't even falter.

His jaw clenches, a vein pulsing in his neck as he glowers at them. "You pieces of shit," he snarls, his voice dripping with venom. "You come into my goddamn bar and put your hands on my woman?"

"Memphis, man, I was—" Rick tries to explain, but Memphis isn't interested in hearing it.

"You're lucky I don't fucking kill you." He cracks their heads together with a sickening thud. The sound reverberates through the suddenly silent bar, everyone frozen in place.

Phantom's eyes roll back in his head, his body going limp.

Rick groans a curse, his face pale and ashen.

Memphis tosses them aside like ragdolls. They land sprawled across the floor in a heap, Rick half on top of Phantom's unconscious body.

"Venom!" he roars. "Get them the fuck out of my sight and out of my goddamn bar. Now! "

I glance toward the door where I saw Venom right before I fell. He wasn't in a hurry then, but he's hauling butt now. He shoots me an annoyed look and comes running.

Memphis doesn't spare Phantom or Rick another glance as he turns his attention to me, still sprawled on the ground amidst the broken glass and spilled beer.

He's at my side in two long strides, scooping me up like I weigh nothing at all. I instinctively curl into him, breathing in the intoxicating scent of leather, whiskey, and something uniquely Memphis.

For the first time all night, the pit of anxiety in my stomach settles. The pain in my hand recedes. All I feel is…him.

I tremble in his arms, not from fear or pain. But because he's ruining me little by little, and I don't have the first clue how to stop it. At this point, I'm not even sure I want to stop it.

God help me, but I'm slowly becoming addicted to this man.

"It's okay, baby," he croons, brushing my hair out of my face with gentle hands. "You're okay. I've got you."

I melt into him, trusting him in a way I haven't trusted anyone in a long time. For years, he's been a big question mark hovering on the edge of my life. But right now, he's the only thing that makes sense, and nothing else seems to matter.

He carries me straight back to his office, gently placing me on his desk.

"Let me see your hand, Toto."

"It's okay," I murmur, holding it out for him. Blood oozes from the small cut across my palm, dripping down my wrist.

Rage flashes through his expression. His jaw clenches, the muscle in his cheek pulsing. "It's not fuckin' okay, Kylie," he growls. But he's gentle as he grabs the First Aid kit from his desk drawer and sets about cleaning up the cut.

My eyes water as he carefully pours antiseptic over it and then checks to ensure there isn't any glass embedded in it.

"What did he say to you?" he asks. His hand shakes as he holds onto my wrist to wrap it up once he's finished. He's so careful with me, his touch feather light as he winds the gauze around my palm. The contrast between the way he takes care of me and the fury still simmering beneath the surface is striking.

"He wanted me to drink with him, specifically on his lap," I say softly. "I guess he doesn't like rejection because he decided I was a rude bitch when I told him no. Rick was trying to get him to back off, but he started talking smack to Rick. It went downhill from there."

"I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault. I knew he was drunk when I told him we don't serve delusions here. It's worked well so far. They usually just laugh and ask for more alcohol. I figured it would work out the same way with him. Clearly, not all bikers are built the same." A sob catches in my throat. "I'm sorry. I don't even know why I'm upset."

"Because you were just verbally and physically assaulted," he growls, dropping the tape back into the First Aid kit. He pulls me to the edge of the desk, tipping my head back. His hands shake as he brushes tears from beneath my eyes.

"I'm okay." I'm not sure if I'm trying to convince him or me.

"I couldn't get to you fast enough," he whispers, his voice a rumble I feel all the way to my bones. " Fuck . I saw that motherfucker shove you, and I couldn't get there."

"I'm okay." I know I'm trying to convince him this time. I reach out with my uninjured hand, cupping his jaw. The stubble is rough against my palm, and I love the way it feels. "It's not even very deep."

"He put his hands on you, Toto," he practically snarls, leaning into my touch.

"Hazard of the job, right?"

"Don't." His voice is pained as he presses his forehead to mine. "Don't try to brush this off like it's nothing. Like you didn't just get hurt on my watch, in my bar. No one puts their goddamn hands on you, Kylie. No one."

"Memphis…" I whisper, my heart aching at the torment in his eyes.

He groans, the sound raw and desperate. Then his mouth is on mine, hungry and demanding. I gasp at the sudden onslaught, and he takes advantage, his tongue delving deep to stroke along mine. Desire crashes through me in a tidal wave.

"Memphis," I moan into the kiss, my fingers sliding into his thick hair to tangle in the silky strands. I tug him closer, desperate to feel every inch of his hard body against mine. My palm twinges, but the small pain is nothing compared to the ache deep in my core.

"Christ, the way you say my name…" He grips my hips, dragging me flush against him. The hard ridge of his erection presses into my stomach, and I whimper, grinding shamelessly against him. He growls, nipping at my bottom lip. "Tell me to stop, Toto. Tell me you don't want this."

I should. I should push him away, remind myself of all the reasons this is a terrible idea. But I can't. I don't.

"Please," I plead instead. "Don't stop."

He groans in defeat, in surrender, and kisses me again. His lips are firm and demanding, his tongue stroking deep, claiming every part of me. I'm lost to him.

"We shouldn't be doing this right now," he growls as he drags me off the desk into his lap, his mouth still moving against mine. He finds his way under my shirt, his palm searing me as he drags my shirt up my body.

He rips it off over my head, flinging it away. My bra goes next, the delicate lace tearing beneath his frantic hands.

His mouth covers my breast, his tongue swirling around my nipple, teasing it to a hard peak. I arch into him with a gasp, my fingers digging into his muscular shoulders.

"Christ, Toto. Stop me before I eat you alive," he growls, his hands digging into my hips as he grinds me against his erection.

"If you stop now, I'll freaking strangle you, Memphis."

He chuckles against my breast, the vibration sending heat blasting through me. "Feisty little thing, aren't you?" He bites my nipple, making me cry out. "I like that about you, Toto."

He laves his tongue over the sting, soothing the sharp bite of pain before moving to my other breast. He sucks the sensitive bud between his lips, grazing it with his teeth.

Pleasure streaks through me like lightning, sending me flying.

I rock against him, desperate for friction, for more.

His hands slide down my back to grip my ass, encouraging me to grind on his hard length. Even through our jeans, I feel how long and thick he is. I want him inside me more than I want my next breath.

"Fuck, princess, you're going to make me come in my jeans if you keep that up," he groans, releasing my nipple with a wet pop. His pupils are wide and dilated when he looks up at me, only a thin ring of cobalt remaining. "You want to feel how hard you make me? How fucking desperate I am for this sweet little pussy?"

I whimper, nodding frantically. His filthy words are like an aphrodisiac, getting me drunk on pleasure. "Please, Memphis…"

"Please what, Toto?" He slides a hand between us, popping the button on my jeans and shoving his hand inside. His fingers delve into my panties to stroke through my slick folds. "Fuck, you're soaked. Is this all for me, Kylie?"

"Yes!" I cry as he circles my clit with the rough pad of his finger. "It's all yours."

"Good girl," he praises, thrusting a finger deep inside me.

I clench around him, my body begging for more.

He groans his appreciation. "Christ, you're tight. Gonna feel so fucking good wrapped around my cock."

I sob my agreement.

"This sweet little pussy is mine, isn't it, baby? No one else gets to touch you like this or make you fall apart."

"Yes, all yours," I breathe, too far gone to deny it, to pretend I don't crave his touch more than my next breath. It's all I've wanted since he kissed me. Perhaps since he sat his fine ass down in front of me and teased me about what I was reading.

He pumps his finger a few times before adding a second, stretching me deliciously. He rubs firm circles on my clit with his thumb, and I see stars.

"Oh god, Memphis, I'm going to come," I pant, my hips moving of their own accord, fucking myself on his thick fingers.

"That's it, baby. Ride my fingers until you come," he croons, his eyes locked on my face. "Let me feel this sweet cunt squeeze the fuck out of my fingers. Show me how good I make you feel. Fuckin' drench me."

His filthy encouragement is my undoing.

I shatter with a ragged, keening cry, convulsing on his lap as my orgasm crashes through me. Wave after wave of intense pleasure rolls over me. He works me through it, continuing to thrust his fingers shallowly as he grinds his thumb against my clit, wringing every last bit of pleasure from my trembling body.

I collapse against his chest, boneless and spent.

"Fuck, Toto, that was beautiful," he murmurs, pressing a kiss to my temple. "You're fucking perfect."

I hum wordlessly, nuzzling into his neck as he slides his fingers out of me gently.

He makes a show out of licking my arousal from them, his eyes tangled with mine, holding me captive, as he does it.

"Goddamn," he groans, rolling his eyes toward the ceiling. "Just when I thought you couldn't get any more fuckin' perfect, there you go tasting like cherry-flavored pussy, Toto."

I squirm, burying my face in his throat to hide the way my cheeks burn. He's so filthy. Why is that so attractive to me?

He chuckles, wrapping his arms around me.

"You okay, princess? Did we hurt your hand?"

"It's fi—"

A loud thump rattles the door to the office.

"Memphis. I need you out here!" Venom shouts through the heavy wood. "Rick is refusing to leave the property until he speaks to you."

My heart slams against my ribcage as reality hits like a tidal wave dunking me under.

My god. I just let Memphis, my boss, get me off at his desk. We're at work. Anyone could have heard us. And he still doesn't have a clue who I am or why I'm really here.

I jump off his lap. He tries to grab me, but I scurry out of his reach, snatching my shirt from the floor to throw it on.

"Kylie," he growls.

"I should get back to work," I mumble, avoiding his gaze. "You have stuff to do."

"Goddammit, Kylie. Don't run from me."

"Don't tell me what to do, Memphis. You don't know me."

"Then let me in."

He makes it sound so easy…just let him in. But right now, he wants me. I doubt he'll feel the same when he finds out that I'm one of the people from the past he's tried so hard to bury.

I shake my head, backing toward the door. "I can't. I'm sorry."

I fumble for the handle behind me as he stands, stalking toward me with a predatory grace that makes my knees weak. He's like a big cat on the prowl, all solid muscle and power.

I want nothing more than to let him catch me, pin me to the floor, and make me his in every way. But I can't. Not like this. Not with so many secrets still between us.

"Don't run from this, Kylie," he growls, his voice a low rumble. "From me. From us."

Us. The word pierces my heart. I want there to be an us so badly it hurts. But how can there be when I'm lying to him with every breath? When I'm hiding who I really am? When I don't know who he really is?

"There is no us, Memphis," I whisper, the words acid on my tongue.

Pain flashes through his eyes, there and gone again in an instant. But I see it. I feel it. It hurts like hell to know I hurt him.

His jaw clenches, a muscle ticking in his cheek. "Like hell there isn't," he growls, eyes narrowed on me. "You're mine, princess. Every goddamn inch of you belongs to me."

Panic claws at my throat as I practically throw myself through the door, my heart thundering in my ears. I practically collide with Venom's hulking body two steps from the door.

"Watch it," he mutters, stepping aside to let me pass.

"Kylie, get back in here before I spank your infuriating little ass!" Memphis shouts after me, his voice rough with frustration.

But I don't stop. I can't stop. Because if I do, I'll be lost to him completely. And that terrifies me more than anything.