Then the barn. Fuck, she was on fire: her sweet lips against his, their tongues tangling, her breath on his neck, her fingers clutching his shirt.Damn.And those soft sounds she made when he rolled her nipple between his fingers… He groaned under his breath. If Throttle hadn’t shown up, he’d have had her right there on the hay, tasting every inch of her before burying himself deep between her legs.Hell, I’m acting like a lovesick jerk. What is it with this woman?
And then another image crept into his mind: Casey at Ruthie’s with that pansy-ass.There’s no way she’s with him. No fuckin’ way.But doubt slipped in anyway.
When he’d seen her sitting with that dough-faced wimp, something sharp and mean had twisted in him. For some reason, he figured she didn’t date anyone, that she worked too damn much for that. His eyes narrowed as he recalled catching that Jacob asshole massaging her shoulders the day he’d come to see Clara, and that had pissed him off, too, but nothing like seeing her with that pussy at Ruthie’s.
The jerk kept glancing back at him, and it took everything in Rags not to drag him outside and beat the shit out of him.She’s too much woman for a wimp like that.Rags’s jaw clenched so hard the stitches over his eyebrow pulled. He was being ridiculous and acting like a damn teenager. He had no claim on her. She wasn’t his, and she owed him nothing. But imagining her laughing with that loser… sharing her thoughts with him… letting him touch her… It made something hard and vicious coil inside him.
He pressed the heel of his hand to his ribs as another pulse of pain shot through him. He shouldn’t give a damn what Casey did or who she did it with. And he definitely shouldn’t be sitting, staring out the window, replaying how she felt in his arms, how her lips were swollen from his kisses.
Another swig of Jack.
The truth was hedidcare. More than he wanted to admit. He leaned back, eyes closing. “Fuck it. Damn woman,” he muttered, voice rough.
As he said the words, the truth seeped past his defenses, settling heavy in his bones: He wasn’t walking away from her—not after the barn, and not after the way she’d looked at him like she wanted him just as bad.
Casey was in his head causing all kinds of havoc with the rule he built around himself: no emotional attachment to any woman.
His eyes narrowed, his jaw tightened, his shoulders tensed, and he knew that there wasn’t a chance in hell that any wimpy ass date, her past, or her MC prejudices were going to keep him from her.
Not until he fully tasted her.
Chapter Thirteen
Casey glanced towardthe window at the low rumble of a motorcycle. Her pulse quickened then slowed as the motorcycle passed the nursery and kept going. It wasn’t Rags. Disappointment threaded through her before she could stop it. She mentally counted the daysagainsince she’d last seen him.
For the past two weeks, she’d been sure he would’ve shown up at the theatre with some excuse about needing to see how Clara’s car was holding up and then “accidentally” wandering into her office. But he hadn’t.
She’d watched Clara’s expressions and mood looking for any sign that something was wrong. But the young woman had been her cheerful, friendly self. So, Casey surmised Rags must have fared well in whatever confrontation the Insurgents had with the rival club at the festival.
Still… that didn’t explain why he was staying away, but maybe it did. Maybe their time in the barn was nothing more than fun and another attempted notch in his belt. Maybe he hadn’t thought twice about it after he’d walked away, while she’d been replaying it far too much like an idiot.
Of course, Rags had plenty of women he didn’t have to chase to occupy his thoughts. She knew the type. Hell, she’d married the type.That’s what I get for letting my guard down.She sighed and pushed up from the stool.
“It’s been a while since we were on the same shift,” Scott said, his eyes focused on her chest.
She shrugged, “I didn’t notice.”You creep.
“I did.” He popped a handful of popcorn into his mouth and crunched. “Have you been working more at the theatre?”
“Not any more than usual.” She hoped if she kept her answers short and simple he’d get the hint and stop bugging her.
He pushed the red and white box at her. “Want some? Emily made it just before she left on break.”
“No thanks.” She turned toward the monitor. “I have to update the inventory.”
“I saw you at the festival. Jillian was with me. Didn’t you see me?”
“No.”
“There were a lot of those biker dudes around. It was kinda intimidating, you know?”
“They’re the ones that put on the festival.”
“I know that.” Scott leaned against the counter. “I saw you with that one biker.”
Scott’s crunching and the smell of artificial butter wrapping around her made her gag.
“You got something goin’ on with him?”