Page 8 of Quadruplets for the Vipers

“No, thanks, we’ll manage,” Leah replies, darting off before we can say any more to her.

“Fucking hell, is that the new waitress you were on about?” Jace asks, ogling Leah.

“Yep,” Knox says with a grin.

Even Rider seems impressed by her, his focus honed in as his gray eyes trace the contours of her ass, as if trying to commit her to memory.

I can handle my best friends, my club brothers, looking at Leah like this. I have no claim to her other than the strangely territorial need I feel for her, and we’ve shared before. But when the prospect glances over and tries to join in, my possessive side comes out.

“I’d fuck her,” he casually tosses in, trying to be part of the group.

“You so much as look at her the wrong way, and I’ll pull your eyeballs out of their sockets and feed them to the dogs,” I snarl. “Prez says she’s off-limits.”

The prospect squeaks an apology that I ignore, and I’m vaguely aware of him mumbling something about seeing someone he knows across the bar before he all but runs away.

“Way to scare off the newbie,” Knox chuckles.

“A bit of an overkill, but effective,” Rider says, his voice low and soft, but his attention never leaving Leah.

When Jace doesn’t chip in with a witty comment and continues to watch Leah with curiosity, I know we’re screwed. All three of my best friends seem as inexplicably intoxicated by the one woman we can’t have and barely know.

Usually, when there’s a woman I’m particularly attracted to, that attraction wears off after we’ve fucked a few times.Considering that’s not an option, I’m torn between trying to avoid her entirely, or getting to know her in the hopes that the shine will wear off once she’s no longer an enigma.

When I think of that kiss, I know I should get up right now and walk away. It’s just one night that she’ll be here, I can avoid her. I have to.

But I stay.

Chapter 5

Leah

Oh, good grief, there are two more of them…

Ifelt their presence before I saw them. It was like the air in the room shifted. I felt hot as their eyes were on me, the hairs on the back of my neck standing to attention.

When I finally dare to look, I see Axel and Knox, more devastatingly gorgeous than I recalled. They aren’t alone. With them are two other men, the polar opposites of each other. The only similarity is that they both have tattoos. One is blond with the all-American good looks of a football team captain. With a cocksure grin and swaggering walk, he’s a man who is well aware of his attractiveness. The other is lean and sinewy as opposed to the broad bulk of the blond. With a crooked nose from being broken one too many times and a large, angry scar that runs down the length of his face, he’s by no means conventionally attractive, yet there’s a dangerous, captivating energy that draws you in.

I manage to stumble my way through taking their order, aware of their intense focus on me—apart from Axel, that is, who seems determined to ignore me entirely. I try to tell myself that it doesn’t bother me, but even so, I subtly try to draw his attention, standing just a little straighter, my eyes subconsciously flicking over to him.

Knox teases me as he orders, I get the impression I’ll never know what’s about to come out of his mouth, perhaps he isn’t even sure half the time.

When I return with their drinks, I notice that the prospect has scurried away. It’s clear from the body language and the jealous looks of the other patrons in the bar that these four men are big deals in the Steel Vipers. In the week I’ve been here I still haven’t quite gotten my head around the hierarchy.

“Here we go, guys. Can I offer you anything to eat?” I say with a forced jovial voice that sounds alien to me.

“Are you on the menu?” the blond jokes, biting his lip and slowly smiling in a way that makes me want to smack the grin off his face while also tearing off his shirt.

“Why, so you can spend five minutes eating before you decide you’re too full?” I snap back. “Guys like you talk a good game, but in my experience, the jock types are only out for their own satisfaction and rarely even know where a woman’s clit is.”

“Trust me, I know where it is,” he retorts with the confidence of a man who knows he can prove it.

He might be hot, but I know his type, too cocky for his own good. All bark and no bite.

“Sure you do, cowboy,” I reply sarcastically.

Knox laughs delightedly, enjoying the unpredictability.

There’s a tense moment where I wonder if I’ve gone too far and the man is going to get angry. But then he, too, laughs.

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