Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2

Nicky

T he knock on the door has my eyes opening. Who could be bothering me this early in the morning? It has to be like 7 a.m. I look over at the clock and see that it's after noon. Oops. I guess I slept later than I thought. Probably because I was up half the night thinking of those brown eyes, which held me hostage with just one look. And…a grizzly baritone voice that rumbled through me like the sound of a muffler. Muscles that were made for a linebacker but gifted to a lethal-looking man. A chiseled jawline peppered with scruff, which looks like it would feel so good rubbing along certain places on my body, definitely some inner places. Those strong forearms painted in colorful ink that I could stare at for hours and get lost in the beauty of the art. And that face…. I was up half the night thinking about, or I should say stewing over the hottest man I've ever seen.

The pound at my door comes again, and I snap out of my daze. Dammit, I was doing it again. Lusting over a man. That has never happened before. And I definitely don't like that it's happening to me now. I pull myself up, toss my hair into a messy bun, and then go to open it. I'm not wearing a bra under my tank top so I only crack the door a smidge, but as I do, the person comes barreling into the room. It's him. The one I just spent the entire night thinking about.

"Afternoon, sunshine." Trigger walks over to my nightstand and places a plate of food down, then turns and hands me a cup of coffee. I want to kiss him for the gift because until the hot, roasted, yummy goodness is running through my veins, I'm not a functional human being. Or a nice one.

"Mmmm…I love you," I purr, holding the mug up to my nose and inhaling the smell of the nutty liquid. My favorite drink in the world. Suddenly, the words I just spoke register and I quickly look up at the man who looks even better in the light of day. "I mean, I love you for this. For the coffee. For bringing it to me. I mean I don't love you love you." I'm stumbling through my words, trying to make sure he doesn't think I have feelings for him or doesn't pick up on the fact that I just spent my entire night thinking about him, but the more I try to recover myself, the more I make a fool of myself. Seriously? Why does he have to be so damn sexy?

He chuckles and once again the sound does all kinds of crazy things to me. "I know," he rumbles and it runs straight through my veins, jolting my senses awake faster than caffeine has ever done. "Your sister told me you didn't play nice until you've had your coffee, so I came prepared."

Play? Him using that word brings up all the ways in which I dreamed of playing with him last night. That word isn't safe so I focus in on the last word he said. Prepared. Prepared for what? For a battle. In the sheets? No. Stop it, Nicky . I seriously need to screw my head back on straight. I don't lust after men. I don't want a man. I'm celibate for a reason.

I take a sip of my coffee because clearly my mind isn't quite as awake as the rest of me, otherwise, I wouldn't be thinking of breaking the life vow I made to myself the day of my mother's funeral. Five years ago, I swore off men, and for five years it's been the best decision of my life.

"You were up late, huh?"

I nod and take another sip. Sipping is safe. Talking is not.

"You usually a night owl?"

"Are you usually this nosy?" Snipping is also safe. Sipping and snipping. Oh God! I'm such a dork and such a basket case.

"Are you usually this fun when you wake up?" His teasing tone has me trying not to crack a smile.

"Are you usually this probing?" Shit. "I mean with the questions. Are you usually this probing with questions?"

This is why I should have stuck to sipping. He raises a brow and steps right into my space. The personal space I was trying to hold on to like a safety net. Now, I feel like I'm a girl who has no idea how to swim and has just been thrown into deep waters. Deep waters that have one seriously hot shark swimming around in them.

"You haven't seen probing yet, babe. I'd be happy to probe even further if you want me to."

And why do I choose my words sometimes? Seriously, I could have said anything. Did I really have to say that? Oh my God. And why does he have to smell so good? He smells like wood and rain and even better than my coffee. Just one inhale of him in the morning and my senses would be wide awake and ready to go.

"Did you need something, Trigger?" Once again, my choice of words is messing with me. And the heat I see flare in his eyes lets me know that once again I've chosen wrong because they seem to be messing with him, too.

"Definitely need something, babe."

Dammit. That voice. Those words. The way he's looking at me. My pussy is letting me know its needs right now. I take a sip of my coffee before I express my thoughts with the wrong choice of words again.

I focus on drinking my coffee while he studies me like a hawk, and I'm not sure I can get any more of it down without choking when I see his eyes hone in on my shirt and begin staring at my tight nipples that I know are poking right at him. I know I need to speak again. But I'm nervous the words please suck on them might come out. So, I do my best to go for snippy instead.

"I know you've seen a pair of tits before, Trigger. With all the sweetbutts around here and with what my sister has told me, I know you've had your share. So, would you mind? My eyes are up here."

He turns his heated stare up to my face again, and the side of his jaw is now ticking. Looks like I triggered his anger. Maybe that's why he was given his name? Joe said everyone earns their club names for a reason. Grit because he's made of true grit and grits out everything he says when he's pissed. RiffRaff because he's a jokester and likes to stir up trouble. I wonder why Trigger.

"You pissed I've fucked your sister?"

Whoa! Okay, so that question came out of nowhere. And…I didn't know he had slept with Joe. And now, I would say that pissed may be only one emotion coming to mind but not the dominant one. Jealousy is the other that seems to be setting up residence in my stomach like a giant sinking ship capsizing in these deep waters I'm swimming in. I guess I should have known Joe had slept with him. I mean she was a sweetbutt, after all. But I don't know why I didn't think of it when I met him last night. And once again, I don't know why it bothers me so much that they've been together.

"Why would I be pissed? It was her choice. Not like you forced her. So anyway, I need to get some work done. Do you want to tell me why you came knocking on my door?" I'm so thankful the words come out smooth and right, and that for the first time this morning, what I'm feeling was masked by indifference.

He takes one more step closer and I'm tempted to take a step back but then he'll think I'm running and will wonder why, so I stay glued to my spot.

"She and the rest of the sweetbutts are long gone from my memory now, babe. You will never have to question what's on my mind when I'm around you or even when I'm not. That's for damn sure."

His words confuse me for so many reasons. Mainly, because I'm not sure if he's telling me that he forgets about every female he sleeps with after the fact because women are just objects for sex. Or, if he's trying to say that I'm the one on his mind now. The fact that I'm hoping for the latter is the exact reason I need to put an end to this now.

"Makes no difference to me what's on your mind. Ever," I emphasize. "Now, I really do need to get my work done before the rehearsal dinner tonight. So, unless you plan on sharing what you came in here for, I'd appreciate it if you left."

The sound he makes has me thinking a grizzly bear just entered the room, and it has me swallowing nervously. Worried my body is in jeopardy of bursting into flames.

"Be ready by six. You're riding with me. And wear a dress." He grits out each comment and I'm beginning to think his road name should've been Grit. "If you need clean towels, they're in the closet next to your room. If you need food beyond what I brought you, kitchen is open 24/7 so help yourself. And if you plan on going anywhere, then you let me know. Your sister gave me your number, so I'm going to text you so you'll have mine. Make damn sure you plug it into your phone. Anything else you need…" He takes a long pause and the words linger in the air and in my thoughts, conjuring up a whole lot of needs before he continues. "You call or text me. And the next time you answer the damn door, unless it's me knocking, you better have on a damn bra."

He's out the door and leaving the sound of it slamming in his wake.

What the hell was that all about? And why does angry Trigger turn me on just as much as sweet and soft Trigger? And why the hell do I have to let him know when I'm leaving? Maybe this has to do with the whole motorcycle club thing and the fact that these guys live on a freaking compound surrounded by a fortress of guards and metal gates. Maybe I have to have clearance to come and go because of security issues. My sister swears these guys are not dangerous criminals, but by the way they're locked down out here in the middle of nowhere, I'd beg to differ. Honestly, though, I know and trust my sister, and if she says these guys are good people, I believe her.

My phone dings and I pick it up to see who sent me a text. My sister said that everything for the wedding was already taken care of but maybe there are some last-minute things she needs help with. Or maybe—I see who it's from and what it says on the screen— the growling grizzly sent me a message that will cause me to stew again for the rest of the afternoon.

Trigger: Mine.

I'm pretty sure he's letting me know that this is his phone number, but the word has my body going into a tizzy.

I open my laptop and try to get lost in my work, desperate for the distraction, but my body is too wound up and there's no way I'm going to be able to concentrate unless I deal with the problem. The same problem I had to deal with over and over again last night. I reach into the nightstand and pull out my favorite vibrator. I flip on my music on my computer so it will drown out the buzzing sound, not that this one is loud, which is why I love it, but just in case someone walks by the room, they won't pick up on what's happening behind this door.

I prop myself up on my pillows and shimmy my shorts and my panties down. Once I'm free of my clothes, my legs fall wide and I slowly begin to slide the head of the skin-soft vibrator over my clit and through my folds. I'm so wet right now, I don't need any lube. My eyes squeeze shut and the image of Trigger comes to the forefront of my mind. I may not want to be with the man, or any man for that matter, but I can use the images floating through my head to help get myself off. And I have to say, the images in my head are better than any porn I've seen.

Right now, there's one dominant one. The one from my dream. Trigger above me, rubbing his cockhead all over my clit. Getting me worked into a frenzy and then sliding up and down through my folds. I follow my mind's lead and reenact every movement with my toy. I decide not to switch the thing on yet because I want as close to the real thing as I can get. When I get down to my entrance, I circle it with the dildo and then ease just the end of it inside and begin to pump it slowly. Just as if his cock were teasing into me, not quite giving me what I want but building me up with each stroke.

The need becomes too overwhelming, so I push the dildo all the way inside ever so slowly. Imagining him easing in and feeling my walls tightening around him. I wonder if the vibrator is as thick as him, or if he'd be thicker. I wonder if he's as long because my favorite toy hits all the right places and makes me feel full. Judging by the size of Trigger, it'd be a shame if his cock didn't match the package. Then again, I have some smaller toys that I enjoy just as much and so I'm a big believer that size doesn't matter.

And the fact that I'm thinking this hard about his dick is a bit concerning, but I push those thoughts away and enjoy the feeling rising to the surface. Tightening in my gut with every stroke. With each pump of the vibrator, it's as if a current is trying to push me upward. I start picturing Trigger above me, the grizzly look on his face, the growly sounds he makes, and the need for my orgasm to hit becomes dire. I turn the vibrator on as I begin to thrust faster, thinking of Trigger's hips pounding against mine. His balls knocking against me with every pump. His cock hitting the back of my walls. And when his lips utter the word mine , I come crashing up through the deep waters of pleasure, and feel the needed air fill my lungs as the rush of heat rocks through me.

Wow!

A blissful smirk forms on my cheeks as the torrent of little shocks hit. God, that was by far the best orgasm of my life. But the reason it was so good, has me bothered. Very hot and very bothered, actually. And once again, I turn the little button of my toy to on and let the thing pulse against my clit. Maybe I just need to work him out of my system, and then the next time I see him, I'll be at ease.