June 30, 2014
Havoc MC, Book 1
Embrace the dangerâ€¦
Sean Rush is an adrenaline junkie. Thatâ€™s why he was in the Army, why he steals and races classic muscle cars . . . and why he canâ€™t stay away from bad boy Ryker, a Havoc Motorcycle Club lieutenant. Fortunately, Ryker canâ€™t seem to stay away from Seanâ€”heâ€™s spent the last eight months breaking into Seanâ€™s apartment and stealing into his bed, leaving Sean physically satisfied but increasingly restless.
Sean has always avoided relationships. He likes to come and go without being controlled. And Ryker is possibly the most controlling man heâ€™s ever known. Still, he finds that he wants more from Ryker than their silent nighttime encounters.
Then one of Seanâ€™s thefts goes bad, and Rykerâ€™s protective instincts kick into overdrive. He takes Sean to the Havoc compound, determined to keep him safe. But Seanâ€™s past threatens the safety of Havocâ€”and everything Ryker holds dear. Worse, Rykerâ€™s hiding secrets of his own. Soon itâ€™s obvious that the adrenaline rush canâ€™t keep them together anymore. But maybe love can.
Read an Excerpt
Donâ€™t need love
I still wasnâ€™t entirely convinced it wasnâ€™t a dream.
Every single time he broke into my house, I had to convince myself it wasnâ€™t a dream.
I never knew when heâ€™d show, couldnâ€™t plan for the times heâ€™d yank the sheet off me before the mattress shifted under his weight. His hands were big and rough on my bare back, and when he flipped me over and skimmed between my legs, that heated rough on my cock was heaven.
So was the big, hot body on mine.
I didnâ€™t know if I should be stopping it. But why would I? Hot sex, no commitment. Hell, no talking. Most of the time just a soundtrack of classic rock, punctuated mostly by the Grateful Dead, which made the whole thing so goddamned hot. It was the perfect non-relationship for a guy like me, since my lifestyle was completely non-conducive to relationships.
But this guy wasnâ€™t just any guy. No one in my twenty-four years had ever had the balls to pull this kind of break and enter shit with me. I was impressed. Fascinated.
Guy was a shadow. I was used to moving through places unnoticed, but he had it down to an art form. But he definitely wanted to be noticed when he came into my bed. And he was strong. Stronger than I was, which was no easy feat.
He was tattooed. Always bore a couple of bite marks after we finished. I couldnâ€™t help myselfâ€”I liked the idea of leaving my mark, but then I was always hoarse the mornings after he visited.
He liked to study me in that brief space of time post sex, before I crashed. I could see the appreciation in his dark eyes, and it made me squirm. Heâ€™d notice that I was somewhere between embarrassed and enjoyment and heâ€™d chuckle, low and husky, and that made my cock hard. Again.
I wanted to ask him why the hell he kept breaking in, but I didnâ€™t. It was obvious to meâ€”he wanted to fuck. And I was acquiescing when I normally wouldnâ€™t have. I liked control, all types, all the time. But during these visits, it didnâ€™t matter.
He made me dizzy. Pliant. Incoherent.
I could tell he liked me that way. Expected it.
Heâ€™d take his sweet timeâ€”always didâ€”but I always got what I needed when I needed it. He didnâ€™t hold anything back, would stop me from thinking, worrying. Taking all the shit from my shoulders for those hours.
The whole thing was a free fall every single time. I pleaded for it, gave it up with no shame because sex shouldnâ€™t have shame. And I wasnâ€™t ashamed of this at allâ€¦but I didnâ€™t know if I was supposed to be his secretâ€¦or if he was mine.
Why the hell did I think about it this hard, this much?
I was getting seriously laid on a regular basis. More orgasms than anyone had a right to. Fucked blind and dumb.
Fucked to sleep.
And then heâ€™d leave. I never knew how long he stayed, pretended I didnâ€™t give a shit. But Iâ€™d wake up in the morning and tell myself heâ€™d stayed for a while after I went to sleep, even though I had no idea if he had or not. Because I pretty much passed out by the end of it, the good kind of exhausted where I was so comfortable I probably had a stupid smile on my face when I did so.
Did he tire me out purposely?
Furthermore, how did he get into my place? It was locked down tight. In my more lucid moments, I thought about adding another dead bolt, more locks and a different security system, all at once, just to see if he could still get through.
But what if he couldnâ€™t?
It was what stopped me every single time.