Page 12 of Craving the Bad Boy

She nods, but she’s definitely nervous.

I watch as her eyes dart around the room, taking in the torn leather jackets, the tattoos and rough faces of the guys. She tightens her grip on my hand but keeps walking. She doesn’t make a break for it. In fact, she looks up at me, shy but trusting. She’s trying to place her faith in me. Hell, I’m doing the same thing with her. I’ve never let a woman into my life before, but I’m opening up to her because something inside me knows that she’s the one.

I lead her over to the bar where Slate, our club’s enforcer, is chatting with a few of the new recruits. He’s laughing at Josh’s joke but stops when he spots Tammy. His eyes scan across her but only briefly. He knows better than to check out a girl who’swith me. Still, I can tell he’s curious about her. Why wouldn’t he be? Tammy is like a rose in a field of thorns here.

“Slate, allow me to introduce you to Tammy,” I say frankly, leaving no room for questions. “Tammy, this is Slate, our resident tough guy.”

Slate smirks. His shoulders lift as he almost chuckles. “Nice to meet you, Tammy. But don’t this guy fool you. Saxon’s as tough as they come.”

Tammy smiles and nods. “Oh, I definitely believe that.”

I can’t explain it, but when Tammy is around, it’s like the rest of the world simply doesn’t exist. It’s all just empty static playing in the background.

“You must be special,” Slate continues. “Saxon doesn’t bring just anybody around here.”

Her eyes flick shyly to me, so tender and soft. Just her innocent look sends blood rushing to my cock. Why did I have to bring herheretonight? Why couldn’t I have taken her on another drive out to the lake? Then I could have my arms wrapped around her naked body while I thrust in and out, in and out…

It’s a stupid question.

I brought her here tonight because I know she’s unsure about me. She doesn’t know if she can trust me. Not after Roxy showed up at my place and sowed seeds of doubt in her mind. I need to show her that she’s mine. That the whole club knows and accepts her and I can give her somethingreal. Be someone she can count on.

She’s doing her best to hide it, but I can see the shadows in her eyes. The ghosts of her past that haunt her and amplify the distrust she already feels for me. And I can’t blame her. I have my own ghosts. But if I can get her to let me in and reveal them to me, I won’t let her carry them alone.

Slate pours us both a drink, and I lead Tammy away from the bar and deeper into the clubhouse. All the brothers watch, sizing her up, causing her to lean closer against me. “Saxon, are they all…?”

“Heartless Bastards?” I laugh softly and squeeze her hand comfortingly. “Yes. All of them. But don’t worry. They may be a bit rough around the edge, but as long as you show them respect, they’ll show it to you.”

Tammy nods, and I introduce her to a few of the guys. Some of them have girls who could best be described as “biker gang groupies” and have been in our orbit for as long as I can remember. Unlike Roxy, they know where they stand with these guys. None of them are looking for a ring, just a fast ride and a good time. They don’t even glance at Tammy as she passes. She might as well be invisible to them.

Why? Because Tammy isn’t from this world, yet she’s here with me.

And that makes them uncomfortable. Maybe even jealous.

“You know, I thought I would feel out of place here,” she says. “But it’s less intimidating than I thought. It’s actually kind of…cozy.”

I laugh. “Don’t let any of the guys hear you call this place cozy. And yeah, you’ll be fine. You’re safe here.”

She sets her eyes on me, soft and filled with something very sincere. “I trust you, Saxon.”

Her words take me by surprise, like a right hook out of nowhere.

Trust.

I don’t deserve her trust. Not a bastard like me. Hell, after all the things I’ve done in my life, I don’t deserve her at all. But I’ll be damned if I don’t spend the rest of my life making sure she never regrets giving it to me.

I lead Tammy to the wall of patches and show her ours: a bleeding red heart we all have stitched to our jackets. “This was the first one ever made,” I explain to her, pointing to a ratty piece of felt, roughly carved into a heart. “As you can see, they’ve gotten a lot better since then.”

Tammy nods at the last one down the line. The one we all wear now. “I can see that.” She points to the rest of the collection below. “And these?”

It feels impossible, but I actually almost blush at her question. This is the first real moment of our world’s colliding and showing their difference. “Patches from other gangs,” I explain. “If some guy steps out and gets his ass kicked, we strip his patch and hang it up as a trophy. A badge of honor, you might say.”

I can tell by the look in Tammy’s eyes that she’s doing a lot of processing. She’s impressed but also timid. And why wouldn’t she be? This isn’t something she’s used to or has ever even been exposed to. After a moment, she turns and looks up at me, and I see an unmistakable excitement in her gaze.

“That’s kind of…sexy,” she says softly. “How many of those were taken by you?”

I shake my head and chuckle. “I don’t look at it that way. The guys in the gang are my brothers. We all share the credit.”

“Don’t give me that humble, politically correct answer,” she says quickly, an almost scolding tone to her voice. “How many of these were taken by you?”

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