Running Wild (Hell Ryders MC Book 1) by J.L. Sheppard Page B

here.” He took a step in her direction. “Think it’s more, too. You wouldn’t be out here in the dark cryin’ unless you saw someone you cared about…” He leaned in to whisper. “And I don’t mean your brother.”
    Shit. He read right through her. She swallowed.
    “Know Army warned you ‘bout us. Hell, if you were my sister, I wouldn’t let you near this place.” He nodded toward the garage. “Think you learned your lesson?”
    “My lesson?”
    “Don’t fall for bad boys.”
    Fall? As in love? No, she barely knew Jace. Still, Ripper made a valid point. She let her attraction sway her, make her believe Jace was different.
    “Is this you being nice?”
    “I’m not nice. I’m a dick. Knew you were Army’s sister, and hit on you to make you uncomfortable and piss off your brother.”
    Her eyes widened. “Why?”
    “Told you, ’cause I’m a dick.”
    He’d been a dick then, but he wasn’t a dick. A dick wouldn’t go out of his way to talk to an emotional woman and warn her about bikers. Behind those dead eyes, there was a good man. No way in hell she’d tell him though.
    “Besides, needed to break you in.”
    “What?”
    “Classy girl like you, I needed to see how you’d handle it.”
    “A test? Did I pass?”
    He smiled. “Yeah, babe, you passed.”
    She chuckled, thinking it ironic how she’d made friends with the biker she’d avoided for weeks on the day she decided to get her own place.
    Tyler wouldn’t be happy, considering she agreed to stay with him until he finished remodeling his house, but now, she had no choice.
    ****
    Allie.
    Allie sat on his lap, her legs wrapped around his waist, her dark hair fanning his chest. The smell of her perfume around him, he cupped her ass. She pressed her lips to his neck and buried her hands in his hair.
    Allie.
    She moaned. No. Not Allie. A poor replacement because he couldn’t have the woman he wanted.
    Fuck.
    He needed to forget Allie. Staying away from her hadn’t helped, so he was being a guy, getting some tap who wasn’t her in hopes he’d forget. It just wasn’t working.
    One look at the red-stained lips, leather mini skirt, and corset, and it hit him he wanted Allie, and he couldn’t have her. All the taps dressed the same, wore the same lipstick, and said the same shit, too. None of them managed to turn him on wearing jeans, a blouse, and sandals because none of them were Allie.
    But he’d had no choice.
    For three hours, he sat in the compound’s living room sipping a beer, watching Allie smile, and hearing her laugh, and he’d needed to fucking forget, so when he spotted the dark-haired tap striding his way giving him a fuck-me look, he’d taken her to his room. She took control, yanking his shirt off him, then climbing on his lap. He had to force himself not to push her away, and the only way he managed that was to imagine she was Allie.
    Allie sat on his lap with her long, thick, dark hair fanning his chest, fantastic legs wrapped around his waist, and beautiful face buried in his neck.
    But the bitch moaned again, and he lost focus along with the will to go through with this shit. Angling his head forward, he opened his eyes.
    Shit.
    Allie.
    She stood just outside his open door, looking at him, eyes swimming in tears and unhidden pain marring her expression.
    He felt it. The pain seared his chest, burning his insides alive.
    It hurt.
    It killed.
    Damn it to hell, she wasn’t even trying to hide it like she hid everything else. Why?
    Fuck. She cared, cared about him enough she couldn’t hide the hurt on her face or the emotion in her eyes.
    And she’d never fucking care again, not after this. His fault. With his poor attempt to forget her, he ruined it. Had he been a smarter, better man he would’ve known, would’ve sensed it. If he hadn’t been a coward, he would’ve tried. Maybe he could’ve had her for a night, a day, a single week. He lost her before ever having her. The knowledge of it kept him frozen in place