Chapter 2

I can't believeI'm in this fucking store shopping for jeans like some high school girl buying her first prom dress. Department stores are not my thing; I get my shirts from Amazon and one of the old ladies buys my pants if I need ‘em. But I wanted to do this for my brothers, since we're going to this fancy dinner to raise money for the Angel Tree Organization.

The whole club is going minus the prospects and well, I wanted to get my members all new pants, so we look good. It's hard enough to be a one-percenter in this town, so I don't want us showing up looking like scrubs.

This sexy little thing tucked in the corner, folding jeans, made the trip so much better. I stood back, hidden behind a display for a while, just watching him work, my cock twitching every time he bent over the table. Visions of him in the same position on my bed, my cock slipping between his plump ass cheeks, fill my mind. It's a no-brainer that he's gay, or at the very least bisexual like me. No straight man would have the courage to wear such a fun and festive shirt. They"d be too worried about what everyone else would think.

Once I"ve got my fill of watching, I head his way. It"s time I make my presence known. He doesn't pay me any attention as he continues to fold, none the wiser to the predator approaching him. "Are you able to help me find something?" I ask as I step up behind him.

He whirls around to face me, obviously surprised, and his eyes widen as his gaze roams up and down my body. Bingo! Oh, naughty boy, you're going to be mine.

I take in his innocent green eyes behind a large, thick-rimmed pair of glasses. His blond hair looks like he rolled out of bed and ran his fingers through it before calling it a day.

"Y-y-yeah sure. What are you looking for?" he stammers, running his tongue across his puffy lips.

As I"m explaining what I"m looking for, he doesn"t bat an eye at the club lingo. He must know about MC life or know someone in a club somewhere.

I hand him the paper Goldie wrote the sizes on and watch as he unfolds it, his eyes scanning the page. He looks back at me and smiles. Without missing a beat, he asks something about distressing and wash. I have no fucking clue what he's talking about. Distressing must mean holes and stains, but I don't need to buy jeans pre-torn. Me and the guys will mess them up plenty after the dinner.

"Okay, well, do you have a budget in mind? We have these here that are around ninety dollars a pair, but we do have some more budget-friendly options too." He motions toward them, chewing that sexy bottom lip.

I step closer, acting like I need to inspect the pants better. Really, I just want to touch him any way I can. "Price doesn't matter. These look fine to me." I grab a pair, holding them up. He reads the first name and size on the list and I start to dig through the pile, searching for what I need while he does the same. I don't miss his little gasp as my arm brushes against his. "Got ‘em." I chuckle as I throw Viper's over my shoulder.

"Okay, next is Rubble, and he's a 40x42." He hands me a pair of jeans I'm assuming are for Pistol, and I get back to searching.

After about thirty minutes, I have sixteen pairs of jeans and I'm ready to check out. "Do you need anything else?" he asks, handing me the last pair.

"No. That's it for me. You were great—uh, I didn't catch your name."

"Ignatius, but my friends call me Iggie," he murmurs, his cheeks reddening.

"And is that what we are already? Friends?" I step toward him, so he's almost completely boxed in between my body, the table, and a shelf of shirts.

"I-I-I don't know. It's just something I say." His breath hitches. I chuckle as he fumbles before he quickly ducks away and heads toward the cash register.

I follow close behindwith my arms loaded with jeans. The entire way, my eyes are locked on his ass and the way it moves in those slacks. I can't wait to see them on my bedroom floor, and mark my words, they will be. My gaze never leaves him as he scans the jeans and removes the security tags. I smirk as his soft hands pick up each pair, folding them and tucking them into the bags.

"One thousand five hundred fifty-one dollars and sixty cents is your total." He smiles. God damn, if that smile isn't one I want to see again and again.

I hand him a wad of hundred-dollar bills and his eyes widen as he takes them before entering the amount in the register and handing me my change. "You're all set?—"

"Steel. My name's Steel. Iggie, tell ya what, you were a lot of help today. Every year, my club donates a good amount of gifts to a charity for underprivileged kids. We ain't very good at picking them out. We get a list from each family of what they need and want. What do ya say, me and my brothers come back another day and you be our shopper?"

"This isn't my normal department, so it's a one-off I was able to help you. I'm normally in the children's department. But I'd happily set you up with an associate in this department," he tells me, setting my bags on the counter.

"That's even better. While we do buy for the adults in the families, it's mainly kids and we like to get them the toys on their lists, but we also get them essentials like clothes. Give me your number and I'll text ya to set it up," I tell him bluntly.

He looks up at me, his eyes wide, and a blush creeps across his cheeks. His lips part and I can tell he wants to, but there"s also some apprehension—there"s no room for that here. "Give me your number, Iggie."

"O-Okay." He grabs a pen from the cup on the side of the register and writes his number on the back of the receipt. "There's a survey link on the back, too. If you take it, mention my name and it will enter you to win a ten thousand dollar shopping spree."

"I will," I rasp. "Expect my text, Iggie. I don't like to be kept waiting." I take the receipt, my calloused hand grazing his, before I shove it in my pocket and grab the bags from the counter.

Even after I"ve left the building, I feel his eyes follow me to my truck, watching as I throw my bags in the passenger seat.

Don"t worry, I"ll be back for you.

My lip curls slightly as I get behind the wheel; I hate driving this damn thing. I feel like I'm locked in and can't get out. My bike is my preferred mode of transportation, but I knew I couldn't get all the bags home on just my Harley Wide Glide. Plus, living in Northern Illinois means that driving my bike all year round just isn't an option. We get only about seven or eight months of good riding weather, if we're lucky.

Twenty minutes later, I"m pulling into the clubhouse, nodding to the prospects as I cruise slowly through the gates. Parking in my designated spot, I turn the truck off and grab the bags to head inside.

Loud music greets me as I pull open the door. My brothers are all sitting around drinking beers as they watch a MMA fight on the TV. Why they need the TV and the music on I don't know, but whatever. I stride to the stereo and turn it off. They throw shouts of anger and annoyance my way. "Listen up, you ungrateful fucks! I went to Howards and got us all something for the Angel Tree dinner."

"You went to Howards? No fuckin' way, man," Viper shouts.

"Yeah. Were they running a sale on carburetors and whiskey?" Rubble jests.

"Fuck off, the lot of ya. I got us all some clean jeans to wear. Now come find your size and shut the hell up." I dump the bags out on the pool table with the list of names and sizes, so they can make sure they get the right pair. There are a few that are the same size and they can fight over who gets what one. My job is done.

"Thank you!" Pistol claps me on the back with a huge smile on his face.

"You're welcome. Finally, someone who appreciates my generosity." I roll my eyes as I grab my jeans and head off in the direction of my room.

I don't realize Pistol is following me until I go to shut my door and his booted foot prevents it from closing. "You seem way too happy for a man who just spent the afternoon in some hoity-toity shop downtown."

"That's because I met someone there who made the experience not too bad," I admit. Pistol has been my best friend since we were kids, and he's my VP now, so I trust him with my life.

"Who is she? Why isn't she here and bent over the dresser? Lost your touch?" He crosses his arms over his chest and quirks a brow.

"He. His name is Iggie, and he works at Howards. I got his number, so I can text him when we're ready to shop for the Angel Tree. He's going to be our shopper," I tell him, opening my closet and hanging my jeans up.

"He, huh? It's been a long time since a male has caught your eye. It's why I assumed it was a she. What's different about this guy?" He leans against the door, now fully invested in my new obsession.

"Pistol… man, he's sexy as hell, and I don't think he even knows it. Totally innocent and unaware of how close he was to a killer today. I even mentioned the club, and that Goldie helped with the sizes. He didn't bat an eye. My cut was on too, of course, and he looked me up and down multiple times and wasn't scared," I tell him and I can feel my cock hardening at the thought of Iggie.

"Lots of women have had that same response and you weren't looking like a kid who saw Santa come down the chimney. What gives?"

"I don't know, man. When I saw him, something in me just called to him and I knew he had to be mine. He will be mine. I only know he's hot as fuck, works at Howards, his name is Ignatius and I'm obsessed." I pull my cut off and hang it on the back of the chair next to my bed.

When Pistol stops giving me the third degree, I need to take a shower. We have church tonight and then I have to go to the club and take care of some business.

"Tread lightly, Steel. I know how you can get, and I'm not sure Ellie can get you out of another stalking charge," he warns as he pulls the door open and steps out, leaving me alone in my room.

Bastard. Ellie has only had to get me out of two stalking charges and they were both years ago. Alisha and Bre didn't know how good I would be to them. They saw my cut and bike or witnessed one little law get bent and they freaked out.

Iggie won't be like that, I can tell already. He knows I'm president of an MC club and he still flirted and gave me his number. He wants to be mine.