Wait For Me

KYRA

I knew I should never have gone to the club. Mr. and Mrs. Simpson left town for the weekend, and Jason asked me if I wanted to go into the city with him. He said we were meeting some friends, and he told me there was a girl who was close to my age coming that I would love… But he lied.

Of course he did.

No one else showed up; it was just him and me at the nightclub, and I basically let him pour booze down my throat all night. It was better than being around him sober. I finally snapped after he felt me up and managed to give me a greasy kiss on the dance floor.

Just as I was about to lose my mind, Chance appeared.

I let him carry me into yet another office in a bar. He was so sweet. He laid me on the couch, and I passed out for an hour or two.

After I woke up and got tired of him treating me like a kid, I snapped, which, let’s just say, made him less sweet. I felt so many emotions when he wrapped his big hand around my throat. I was terrified, angry, sad, confused—and turned on.

I don’t know why I thought I could get away with speaking to a VP of a biker club like that.

Now, he’s turned away from me and on the other side of the room near the desk. I hear him taking a bunch of deep, shaky breaths. “You should be scared of me, Kyra…,” he whispers.

I slowly walk up behind him. I make a very bold move and rub my hand up his muscular back, his skin warm under his shirt. His muscles tense under my touch, and he whips around, eyes narrowed, and grabs my wrist, forcing my hand away from him.

“You should stay far away from me,” he whispers, even quieter this time.

I don’t know what to say, so I just shake my head. Using my free hand, I lay it flat on his chest. He frowns at me and takes a step back.

“Kyra, if you keep touching me and looking at me with those fuck-me eyes, I’m not going to be able to stop myself.” He sounds extremely frustrated, which makes me smile.

“So, don’t stop yourself,” I tease, and I guess that does it. I push him over the edge.

Chance runs his hands through his hair and sighs.

“Please,” I whispered. I am so desperate to feel his touch.

He responds by groaning. “Fuck, Kyra, don’t push me.”

“Please,” I whisper.

He suddenly backs away and shouts, “Fuck!” He punches the brick wall, making me jump. “I can’t do this with you, Kyra.”

“I’m sorry,” I whisper, feeling so embarrassed. I want to dig a hole and fucking bury myself alive. He turns back around and looks at me with the same expression as everyone else. There’s so much pity I want to punch that look off his face!

“Don’t be sorry. Believe me, I’d love to slam you against the wall and kiss you until you are gasping for air, but I can’t. You and me will never happen.”

His words feel like a shot to the gut. The idea of never feeling his hands on me again or tasting his lips makes me want to cry. I adjust my dress and storm past him; there’s no way I’m giving him the satisfaction of seeing me cry.

“Goodbye, Chance,” I mutter, the weight of unshed tears pressing down on me as I walk out of the office. Shutting the door behind me, I finally let them fall.

I haven’t taken my eyes off the clock on my bedside table in over a half hour. I’m patiently waiting for Mr. and Mrs. Simpson to leave for their Valentine’s Day weekend getaway. Lisa left hours ago, heading to Florida with her friends, and Jason is gone doing God knows what.

Which means I’m free for the weekend! Well, unless Jason shows up, and if that happens, I’m sure I can figure out a way to avoid him. I have to. I can’t stand to be in the house with him alone.

It may be Valentine’s Day today, but to me, it’s just another Friday night, so I decide to go to Suzy’s. I’m sure it’ll be dead; everyone will be spending the evening with their partners. But it will get me out of the house and away from Jason should he happen to return.

Looking in my closet, I opt to dress up a little nicer than usual. No matter how hard I try to convince myself otherwise, deep down I know I’m hoping Chance might be there. It’s a slim chance, but he did say he comes through town every once in a while, and the first time I met him was on a Friday evening.

I put on a lacy black bodysuit under a pair of dark wash Fashion Nova jeans that make my ass look amazing! You won’t catch me in heels often, but I choose my newest platform black Vans—they’re just as cute as heels.

I usually wear my hair in a messy bun or leave it down naturally, but today, I curl my brown hair, making it look extra voluminous.

I debate putting on makeup, but I honestly hate that crap. I don’t want to sound full of myself, but I don’t need it either; my face is clear of blemishes, and my lashes are super dark without mascara. Upon inspection in the mirror, I decide to put on a little lip gloss to make me look more put together.

Once I hear the Simpsons leave—without telling me goodbye, of course—I run down the stairs toward the front door, feeling grateful I don’t need to jump out of the window this time.

It’s really chilly out tonight, so I tuck my head down and jog to the bar instead of wearing a jacket since it wouldn’t go well with my outfit.

As I approach Suzy’s, I look around but don’t see any vehicles or motorcycles. I walk up the stairs into the toasty, warm bar. I’ve grown very fond of the workers in this place and even the odd old drunk who is here every night. Everyone is always so sweet to me, especially the owner, Suzy, who’s here every night.

Suzy’s a nice lady, in her early sixties, I’d say. She dresses like a fucking badass, always wearing leather, and she’s super cool! She also never asks me questions; she just gives me about two drinks whenever I come in and then gives me water. I love that in her own way, she looks out for me.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, sweetie,” Suzy says as I approach the bar. I give her a big smile.

“Where the hell is your jacket, woman?” she squeals.

“I live a block away, Suzy. I’m fine.” She tsks and shakes her head, but her grin shows she’s not too concerned.

“The usual?” she asks as she takes a clean glass out from underneath the bar. I nod with a smile.

I sip on my vodka-cranberry and make small talk with Suzy for a while. A couple more people have walked in, so the place looks a bit more lively. My favorite regulars, Paul and his wife Donna, sit down at a booth close behind me. They wish me a happy Valentine’s Day. I don’t say anything, just give them a genuine smile.

After my second drink, I head to the ladies’ room, breaking the seal earlier than usual. Fuck, I’m going to be peeing all night! I wash up and fix my hair before stepping back out into the bar.

I notice two younger men wearing leather cuts standing at the bar now. Neither of them is Chance, which bums me out more than it should. I walk back to my seat, which is pretty close to the tall, handsome men. The taller one with dark hair looks at me and smiles.

“Hello, darling.” A slow smirk stretches across his face as his gaze lazily runs down my body, making me acutely aware of his attention.

“Hi.” I give him a flirty smile. He’s cute—really cute actually. No one compares to Chance, but this guy definitely catches my eye with his dark hair and piercing green eyes.

“Trigger,” he says, holding out his tattooed hand to me.

That’s an odd name. “I’m Kyra.” I put my small hand in his large one.

He gives me an odd look I can’t quite read, but I watch as he studies my face intently.

“Do I know you? I swear I’ve seen you around before.” He frowns.

“Nope, I don’t think so,” I tell him, knowing damn well I’ve never met him before. I’d remember a face and dominating presence like his.

He continues to stare, his eyes unwavering, and I feel a cold sensation creep up my spine. He isn’t a particularly scary-looking man—Chance is far more intimidating—but something about this guy doesn’t feel right.

His face finally relaxes, and I watch him shake whatever thought he has out of his head. “Well, good to meet you, darling. Why don’t you come to sit and have a drink with us?”

I don’t see why I shouldn’t. Although he acted a little odd at first, he seems to be chill now. He must have thought I was someone else.

There are enough people around that I don’t feel unsafe, and they are the closest people to my age in the bar. Plus, they’re both cute as fuck! The quiet one has light brown hair, similar to mine, and he has chocolate brown eyes. He’s very handsome in a mysterious, quiet way.

We head over to a booth, and I sit beside Trigger. He’s got his arm over the back of the booth, making me nervous as hell, but I don’t feel as uncomfortable as I thought I would. I just feel odd, like something in my gut is telling me to stay alert.

They buy me two beers, and we make small talk. The other guy’s name is apparently Dare. Trigger is definitely hitting on me, and although I’m not being a prude, I’m not as flirty in return.

His arm has managed to drop around my waist, making me slightly uncomfortable now. If it weren’t for the booze flowing through my system, I’d probably have a panic attack. Just as I’m about to excuse myself to the bathroom, the bell above the door jangles as a group of bikers walk in.

The third man is Chance. We make eye contact instantly. I swear he sucks all the air from my lungs when he holds me in his piercing glare. He and three other huge men walk directly toward us. I hold my breath. I want to fucking bolt, like I’ve been busted for something I shouldn’t have done, but I know he’ll catch me.

“The fuck is going on here, Trigger?” he growls.

Oh shit, they know each other?

“Just having some drinks, boss man,” Trigger responds and holds up his beer.

Chance is Trigger’s boss? What?

“Don’t fucking call me that,” Chance snaps.

Trigger finally removes his hand from my waist and raises his arms for Chance to see. “Woah, sorry, dude.”

I can’t help but feel slightly hurt that Chance hasn’t even acknowledged me except for the glare he shot me when he first walked in, and the alcohol fueling me gives me the confidence to speak up.

“Hey, Chance,” I whisper in my most seductive tone.

I feel Trigger’s eyes shoot over to me and widen. He looks terrified. “You know each other?” he asks, his pointed finger wavering between us.

“Oh yeah, we go way back… Right, Chance?” I smirk.

Chance clenches his sexy jaw, not saying anything. He just stares at me with a look I can’t quite figure out.

“Come with me, Kyra!” he barks. Usually, I would jump at his tone, but right now, I’m feeling kind of accomplished.

I’ve gotten under the big bad biker’s skin.