Forbidden Rider: A Lost Saxons Novel #5 Read online

  Dylan, like all the men in this Club, is easy on the eyes. He’s got dark hair, a clean jaw, and an accent that is not northern. He’s also heavily tattooed, and wearing an assortment of jewellery on his fingers and wrists. His vest, which I’ve learnt over the past few weeks is called a kutte, is not nearly as worn, and his patches are not dirtied—unlike most of the other brothers’ kuttes, which are scuffed up, implying his is newer.

  “What’re you doing down here?” he asks with a smile, although there is a hint of suspicion in his tone.

  Right. Of course. I’m the one skulking around.

  “I’m looking for the bathroom. I got horribly lost.”

  He rubs at the back of his neck, a grin playing at his lips. “Yeah, I’ll say. It’s right back that way.” He points down the corridor I came up before.

  I groan.

  “I thought it might be. Everything looks the same. You guys need to invest in some signage.”

  He snorts. “Yeah, they don’t really do signs for motorcycle clubs.”

  I wonder what kind of signs they would need…

  “What are you doing here anyway?”

  “I’m having a drink with the girls. They’re probably ready to send out a search party by now,” I joke. “I’ve been gone for a while.”

  He ignores this, and asks, “How’s Wade doing?”

  “About the same. He’s hoping he can come home soon.”

  I don’t think that is likely, but I keep that to myself. His injuries are extensive and taking time to recover from.

  “We’re all hoping that, sweetheart.” His eyes rove over me in a way that is not entirely comforting and definitely salacious.

  Yuck.

  “We haven’t really had much of a chance to talk since you got into town.” He says this innocently, but there is something more in his words, something I can’t quite put my finger on.

  I stare at him a beat. Is he… is he flirting?

  “I’m not sure now is the best time to get acquainted, Dylan.”

  He doesn’t seem deterred by my sarcasm because he asks, “Are you staying in town long?”

  “I’m not sure. I really should get back to the girls.”

  I try to move past him, but his big body stands in my way. He’s not stopping me getting around him, but he’s not moving to let me get by him either.

  “What do you do, Wade’s sister? For a living?”

  “I work at a children’s education centre.”

  Would it be rude to bodily shove him out of my way? Could I bodily shove him out of my way? He’s not exactly small.

  His brows arch.

  “Are you sure you’re related to Wade?”

  This makes the hairs rise on the back of my neck. What exactly is he implying? Does he think I’m lying…?

  Why would he think this?

  Josh is awake and isn’t exactly denying I’m his blood.

  My voice is steel when I say, “Why?”

  “Well, it’s just Wade’s Wade.” Whatever this means… “And you’re so smart and beautiful.”

  “Yeah, and fucking very much off limits,” a voice growls from behind him, a voice I recognise immediately.

  Jem.

  And for once, I am so glad to see him, that I forget how annoying I find him.

  “We were just talking, Jem. No law against talking now, is there?” Dylan’s acidic words snap out.

  “Yeah? Just talking? About what?” Jem’s voice bites just as hard.

  Clearly, he’s just as unimpressed by Dylan’s attempts at flirting as I am. At least, I think that’s what he was doing. Poorly, I might add. He might look like these men, but he certainly doesn’t have a way with the women like them.

  The air between them grows heavy and I have no idea what is going on, but after a moment, Dylan mutters, “Whatever, brother. If you want to grab a coffee at any point while you’re in town, Piper—”

  “She doesn’t,” Jem snarls at him.

  Dylan glares. “She yours?”

  Am I his? Am I his what? I know the girls talk about being ‘claimed’ by their men. It’s some archaic ritual that means they’re essentially married or something. Is that what Dylan is asking? I’m absolutely not Jem’s. I barely know him for a start, and what I do know of him I can hardly stand.

  “I’m not his,” I say, but neither men are listening.

  Jem steps up to Dylan, his face contorting. “She’s Wade’s sister, fuck nuts.”

  “So?”

  “So you keep your dirty nasty paws to your fucking self. That means you don’t ask her for fucking coffee, you dumb shit.”

  Dylan’s lips tip up into a smirk. “She’s his sister, not his wife. She’s a free agent.”

  He’s not wrong, but clearly Jem does not agree with this sentiment, because he mutters, “Fuck me…”

  Dylan darts back from Jem before he can grab him—presumably to throttle him—and heads up the corridor. He tosses a glare over his shoulder before he disappears around the corner, leaving me and Jem alone.

  I’m mulling over Dylan’s words when Jem spins back to me and I’m faced with a six-foot-three irate blond man.

  He’s not wearing his jeans and kutte, but he’s in shorts and a black singlet that is moulded to his pectorals like a second skin. There’s also a towel slung around his neck and his hair is damp, as if he’s just showered. The man might irritate me, but he looks phenomenal. He has well-defined legs that are tattooed just up one calf. The ink continues up his arms and around his neck, a canvas of colour that I want to explore further.

  “What’re you talking to that motor-mouthed fuck for?” Jem demands, not too pleasantly, I might add. It breaks me out of my voyeurism.

  Okay then.

  I glare at him. “Am I not supposed to talk to him?”

  “Fuck no. He’s a dick. Stay away from him. Wade will lose his mind if you go anywhere near that shit head.”

  This surprises me. Josh made a huge song and dance about respecting the Club and the brothers, yet Jem is disrespecting one of their own.

  I shouldn’t ask. I should head back to the girls, and forget any of this happened, but curiosity gets the better of me.

  “I have no intention of ‘going anywhere near’ him, but he’s one of your brothers, isn’t he?”

  “Only on paper,” is his bizarre response.

  “Dylan was right about one thing, Jem. Josh isn’t my keeper. I’m a big girl. I can make my own decisions.”

  “Yeah, I’m sure you can, but not on this. Stay away from him, okay?”

  “Jem—”

  “Piper, stay away from him.”

  There’s something in his tone that tells me I shouldn’t push him, and I have no interest in Dylan anyway, so I relent. “Fine.”

  He casts an eye over me and his anger drains, his shoulders relaxing as he takes me in. “Has hell frozen over?”

  I blink at the sudden change in direction.

  “What?”

  “I figured that was the only time you’d step foot inside the clubhouse.” He peers at me. “Have you been kidnapped?”

  The absurdity of this statement makes me smile, but I don’t want him to see I’m amused, so I direct it at my feet. “Sort of.”

  This is not entirely a lie. I am here under duress; Josh bullied me into coming.

  Jem suddenly grabs my shoulder, pulling so he can see behind me. My eyes flare even as heat scorches my skin where he touches me.

  “What are you doing?” I squeal, reaching for the back of my skirt to make sure it’s pulled down with one hand while simultaneously trying to snag his fingers latched onto my collarbone with the other. Not that my skirt has any chance of riding up. It’s tightly fitted to my backside and my hips. I should focus on his touch, which is searing into my flesh like a brand. Electric currents dance across my skin.

  “I’m checking for ropes in case you actually were hogtied and brought here,” he says. “The last thing the Club needs is the Old Bill knocking on the bloo
dy door.”

  I roll my eyes at him as I finally manage to find my senses and push him off me. “I was joking, Jem.”

  Mostly, anyway. An hour ago, I would have preferred to be at home, alone, watching a crap movie with a glass of wine, but now that I’m here, I’m surprisingly having a good time. Maybe Josh was right to push the issue—not that I would ever tell my brother this.

  When I first came here, I wanted to hate these people, hate their lives. They’re making it increasingly difficult—even Mr Obnoxious in front of me.

  “I didn’t think you knew how to tell a joke.”

  “Well, I don’t need to, do I? You do enough larking around for both of us.”

  “Good thing, too,” he says, then leans towards me to stage-whisper, “You’re not very good at it.”

  Affronted, I mutter, “And you are? All your humour seems to consist of is jokes that are bad taste or groan worthy.”

  “My repertoire is so much more than that.” He glances up the corridor, which is empty aside from us. “So, if hell hasn’t frozen over and you haven’t been abducted… what are you doing here?”

  “I was ordered to be here.”

  “Ordered by who?”

  “Josh.”

  This statement confuses him. “Your brother ordered you hang out with Dilhole Dylan?”

  “Don’t be a wanker. Of course not.”

  His eyes dance with mischief. Maybe I shouldn’t have mentioned that act in front of him. I blush at the heated look he’s directing at me.

  “Only if you ask nicely.”

  “Are you always so crass?”

  “Are you always so uptight?”

  I fold my arms over my chest, which draws his eyes to my breasts. Not a good idea. I unfold them and drop my arms to my side.

  “Not wanting to hear you talking about your little Jem makes me uptight?”

  “My little Jem?” He guffaws. “Woman, you’re fucking hilarious, and I can assure you, no one has ever called it ‘little’ before.”

  “I’m not trying to be funny. I’m actually disgusted by you.”

  This is a lie, and I can’t stop the upturn of my lips as I say it.

  He leans back against the wall, pulling the ends of the towel around his neck as he does. The gesture is small, but it does funny things to me. I will admit, I’m not completely immune to his charms. The man is exceptionally good looking. My body recognises this, even if my mind refuses to acknowledge it. I will never tell him this, though. Arrogant bastard.

  “You should probably say it without the grin then.”

  “I can’t. You’re so full of yourself, it’s hilarious. I’m here with the girls because Josh said I needed to have fun.”

  He tilts his head to the side. “And are you?” He sounds amused by the very concept.

  “Yes, actually.” The gin is certainly helping me unwind.

  “Consider me surprised.”

  “I am capable of enjoying myself, Jem. In fact, believe it or not, but before I set foot in your little kingdom of Kingsley I regularly had fun. I was known for it, in fact.”

  He doesn’t get close to me, but he doesn’t need to. My heart is already racing just having him in my immediate proximity.

  My eyes rove over his damp hair, which hangs loosely around his face in a natural wave, and for some ungodly reason, I have the urge to run my fingers through it, which is ludicrous.

  I must be staring because he says, “You see something you like?”

  I snap my gaze to his eyes. “What?”

  “You’re gawking.” He smiles at me like the cat that got the cream.

  “I am not.”

  Buggering hell. I was.

  “Angel, it’s okay to look. I’m an attractive man, after all.”

  My mouth slackens. “Modest, too.”

  “You’re a beautiful woman yourself and I’ll never make apologies for staring at you.”

  I narrow my eyes, sure he’s joking, but there’s no sign he is in his face. I know I’m not beautiful. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t think I’m ghastly, but I’m average. My mother has told me often enough that I’m lacking. My nose is not straight enough, my jaw is too large—I got my father’s wide chin. My shoulders are too broad, too manly. I’m not slim enough, despite dieting my entire life. My faults are endless.

  My stomach twists.

  “Don’t make fun of me, Jem.”

  There’s a moment of silence that seems to stretch between us. “You can’t even take a compliment, can you?”

  “It depends if you really do mean it as a compliment, because you haven’t exactly been Mr Complimentary before now.”

  “Well, you haven’t given much reason for me to be.” He leans into me and says, “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but you have been somewhat hostile, angel, since you got here.”

  “I have a name, Jem. And it’s not angel. It’s Piper. Use it.”

  “See what I mean, and I’ve been nothing but friendly.” He places a hand over his heart, as if he’s mortally wounded by my words. “You cut me deep when you act like this.”

  “I don’t need friends,” I tell him, and I don’t. I certainly don’t need friends that look like walking sex gods.

  “Everyone needs friends.” He stares at me, his dancing eyes seeing more than they should. “You’re not one of those loners, are you? I mean, you are Wade’s sister, so it would make sense. Wade’s a freak.” It’s said with a grin, which softens the words, but I take affront at the slight.

  “Josh isn’t a freak.”

  “He’d be thrilled to know you’re sticking up for him.”

  His relaxed pose is at odds with my stiff, uptight stance. I’m so tightly coiled I might fire across the corridor like an elastic band.

  “Of course I’m sticking up for him—he’s my brother.”

  “Yeah, but in our world, blood doesn’t always count for shit.”

  That statement hits me in the stomach like a rock. It’s no secret to anyone that Josh and I have a difficult relationship.

  It also surprises me that Jem would say this. His brothers and sisters are lovely people.

  “I’m not sure you’re talking from experience. I’ve met your family.”

  He shifts the towel around his neck. “My family is fine, but a lot of the guys in the Club don’t have that. The old ladies too.” I watch as his head tilts to one side. “What about you, Pip? What’s your family like? I don’t mean Wade. I already know he’s a pain in the arse. I mean your family back in Manchester. You haven’t mentioned them much.”

  And for good reason. There isn’t really a good way to start a conversation with my parents are complete crazy narcissists…

  “Oh, you know. Like most families, I suppose,” I hedge.

  I’m not touching this with a ten-foot barge pole.

  His eyes twinkle. “You don’t give much away, do you?”

  “There’s not much to give away. I’m really rather boring.”

  “I doubt you could be boring if you tried, Piper.”

  “You’d be surprised.”

  “I’ll be the judge of that.”

  My words die in my throat as he pushes off the wall and steps into my space. He’s a big man, both height and width wise and while I’m tall, I feel tiny next to him.

  I tip my head up and swallow. This earns a lift of his lips as he notices my reaction, but I lose his face as he dips closer, his mouth moving to my ear. His breath is warm against the shell and I can hardly breathe as all I’m aware of is him—his bulk, his warmth, the smell of whatever shower gel he’s washed with and a scent that is uniquely Jem. This may be the most intensely sexual moment of my life and he hasn’t even touched me yet.

  “You’re not boring, angel,” he says into my ear. “I know boring. You’re not it. You’re obstinate, ornery, but kind, compassionate, scared of being hurt. You’re an enigma, Piper Ellis, and I will figure you out.”

  My heart rate kicks up a notch as his hot breath fans against the
side of my face.

  “And for the record, Piper, no lies, no jokes, you are an intensely beautiful woman.”

  He pushes back from me and I stand, dumbfounded as he starts up the corridor without another word. My heart is hammering in my chest, my breath ripping out of my mouth in heavy pants as I watch him go and the apex between my legs is throbbing as dampness seeps into my underwear.

  What the bloody hell just happened?

  Chapter Seven

  “Do I need to think about shipping your things over to Kingsley?” Cami demands down the line in a half-joking, half-serious voice a few days later.

  I cringe, readjusting my phone against my ear and juggle the bags of groceries I’m trying not to drop as I make my way down the road towards Josh’s flat.

  Bugger. Three weeks. It’s a long time to be gone, considering I was only supposed to be staying a couple of days at most to check on a brother I hadn’t seen in years. Now, I’m living in his flat, hanging out with his friends—friends I swore I would not get close to—and I’m fairly certain I’m having some less than platonic feelings for one of his brothers after Jem told me he thought I was beautiful.

  Yes, he said I was beautiful and I’m fairly certain he meant it. Since then, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about why he said it and what it means. Why would he say it?

  “Of course not. I’m coming back.” I should have come home weeks ago, but I can’t bring myself to leave just yet. I don’t know why either. I should go home and build a relationship with my brother from Manchester, but right now, I have a captive audience with him. It sounds terrible, but I’m taking full advantage of the fact that he’s stuck in the hospital and has no choice but to deal with me.

  “Are you sure?” she teases. “I’m getting worried I might need to change my address to Kingsley, Yorkshire.”

  I snort, pausing on the pavement and trying to catch my breath. I should have taken a taxi back from the supermarket, but I thought I would attempt to be healthy, given my bum has been stuck in a hospital chair for weeks. I should have been lazy. I’m so tired and this walk is destroying me. I’m physically and mentally burnt out.

  “No chance of that. Josh and I are sorting things out, but I don’t think I’m that welcome here.”