Page 49 of Daddy Issues

Even the ride couldn’t help me sort any of that shit out.

Puck

A good fight always left the clubhouse rocking. Kenna slipped off my bike straight to the dance floor, drinking and shaking her ass with Dylan, Riley and the others. There were women who did stuff like that for the attention. They were out on the floor now, patch bunnies and older groupies. They shook their asses in a cheap-ho mating call.

There were men here horny enough to fall for it.

Not me. Not Kenna. She was smiling, laughing, paying zero attention to anyone. I watched her, unable to look away. Not because of the sultry sway of her hot little body, but because of the happiness on her face. The way the darkness had finally been chased away.

That shouldn’t matter to me, I wasn’t her man. But I sure as hell walked into that bar and behaved like I was.

I needed distance, space, room to breathe that wasn’t filled with the seductive scent of her. The one that made me want todrink her up, lick her all over, and taste her while she came screaming my name.

The far end of the bar, between the front door and one of the storage closets, had always been the darkest, quietest place in the clubhouse. I sat there alone, wishing I still drank. Maybe liquor could chase away the thought of her.

Instead of a smooth shot of whiskey, I smoked a blunt by myself. Instead of being calmed by the weed, I grew irrationally irritated with myself, with her. Why did she make me want her so bad?

She felt too fucking good on the back of my bike, and it was becoming all too easy to want her there. She was barely back in all our lives, and I wanted her all to myself.

Like she could read my mood, she stayed away, choosing the more positive attitude of the ladies. Good. Made it easier to sulk.

Jester gave me a wide berth too, as if he thought I was pissed off at him. I wasn’t. He hadn’t crossed any lines, wouldn’t. With an inkling of what I felt, he’d put Kenna squarely in his no-fly zone.

I was pissed at myself that he even had to.

Because I didn’t want anyone to touch her but me. And it wasn’t my right to feel that way.

“Hey.” Her voice was soft as the music changed. I didn’t jump, but my heart raced, startled.

I huffed a sigh, leaned back on my elbow on the bar. She was all flushed, glistening, and almost sweaty, my shirt rolled up and tied around her waist. It was then I noticed she wasn’t wearing a bra. The barbells in her nipples pressed against the thin, damp fabric. I rubbed my lips together and licked them, trying to ignore the throb starting in my groin.

She put her hand on my thigh and leaned in so that I smelled her. Like coconut and something else tropical. Withan undercurrent of whiskey. Her eyes were a little glassy, her cheeks flushed like they did when she was coming hard.

“What’s wrong?”

I shook my head. “Nothing.” Everything.

“Come on, come hang out.” She tugged on my arm, but I jerked it away. “I’m good. I think I’m going to head out.”

She blinked, hurt. “Oh.”

Yeah, I was that asshole. Something she should probably remember.

“I’ll have Jester take you home.” That recommendation seared through me like a hot knife.

“No, I can find my own way.” She frowned, confused now. Maybe I wasn’t the only person feeling conflicted.

I should tell her. Tell her what? That I was a coward, because I didn’t have the fucking balls to say how badly I wanted to bend her over this bar? No, it was more than that. I could feel the niggling of something else. I’d known her too long, cared about her. We were friends.

I wanted more.

“What’s your deal?” She still watched me with those big drunk eyes, reminding me of the truly dark shit I thought about her, wanted from her. Had it just been us that night at the frat house, I’d have fucked Kenna—drugged or not. I was a bastard.

“Nothing.”

“You kiss me like that at the bar, in front of everyone. Touch me…in all the dirty places whenever you can, then brush me off without an explanation.” She was working up to a sexy package of tiny drunk fury.

I wanted to kiss her again. “I’m sorry for that.”

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