Chaos Bound (Sinner's Tribe Motorcycle Club #4)(57)
Naiya looked back over her shoulder and huffed. “Not that I’m jealous or anything, but I’m not really interested in hearing about all your other women.”
“She’s jealous.” He pressed a kiss to her nape. “I like it.”
“You can like it alone.” She slid away from him and walked toward the bathroom, needing some time alone to think through what she needed to do. “I’m going to take a bath. It’s been too long, and I’m feeling too grungy to be in a place like this.”
“Good idea. I’ll join you.”
Naiya stopped him with a hand in the air. “You’re staying out here to watch the door. I feel like an imposter in this hotel in my dirty beaver shirt, with a duffel bag, a giant bag of cash and two bags of guns. I’m terrified someone is going to burst in and haul us out of here and throw us on the street, or worse, in jail after our little brush with the ATF.”
“Anyone comes through that door, I’ll shoot them.” Holt pulled out his weapon and brandished it at the door.
“That’s sweet in a f*cked-up, outlaw-biker kinda way.” She pushed open the bathroom door. “I’ll leave you to it.”
After a long soak in the tub and a scrub with the most expensive toiletries she’d ever had the pleasure of using, Naiya joined Holt on the bed in front of a sixty-inch television.
“What are you watching?” She tightened the belt on her fluffy white bathrobe, giving serious consideration to adding it to their collection of stolen goods when they left the hotel.
“Nothing yet. Three hundred channels so far and nothing appeals.” He tugged on her belt and pulled her against him. “What do you like to watch?”
Naiya nibbled her bottom lip. “Um … you probably won’t be interested.”
“Tell me.”
“SyFy.” She buried her head in his chest and Holt laughed.
“Tank’s favorite channel. It’s f*cking scary how much you two have in common. I thought I’d finally get away from being forced to watch shows about aliens, guys with pointy ears, and big-ass space ships. Let’s give it a go.” He flipped at rapid speed to SyFy and Naiya shrieked in delight.
“Oh. My. God. It’s a cult classic. The 1980 version of Flash Gordon. It’s so good, Holt. You’ll love it. It’s about a football player who goes into outer space and faces down a super villain named Ming the Merciless. It’s the ultimate in camp.” She snatched the remote from his hand and turned up the volume. So what if it was the ultimate in geekiness. Some pleasures were just meant to be shared.
“You weren’t even born in 1980.” Holt settled on the bed, tucking Naiya beside him, her head against his shoulder. “Neither was I, so I’m guessing the special effects are gonna leave a lot to be desired.”
They watched the opening credits, and Holt stiffened. “That sounds like Queen.”
“It is Queen. They did the soundtrack.”
“What a damn waste of good music.” He stroked her hair as if he knew she was about to rear up and lambast him for putting down one of the classic science fiction movies of all time.
“Shhhh. You’re ruining the mood.” She snuggled into his chest, toying aimlessly with his belt.
Holt shifted on the bed, his arm tightening around her. “You keep playing down there and the mood’s gonna change real fast to something that doesn’t involve some pansy ass prancing around. Seriously. That’s the hero? I could kick his ass in less than thirty seconds. Who talks like that?”
“It was the 1980s.” Naiya poked him in the stomach. “Now hush up. It gets better.”
But what got better was Holt’s reaction to the movie. Every few minutes, he huffed or snorted, interrupting her with his running commentary about the stilted way the characters said their lines, the cheese ball drama, the retro set design, the special effects, and … his favorite, the over-the-top costumes.
“A real man wouldn’t dress in red spandex,” he said laughing at Flash Gordon’s first costume change. “Anyone tried to put that on me and I’d shoot them.”
And then, after seeing yet another scantily clad woman—”Jesus Fuck!” he shouted. “It’s one fetishistic costume after another. I want to see you in something like that. Especially pink.”
Thoroughly enjoying his commentary, she wasn’t ready when he shot up, spilling her off his chest as he roared with laughter.
“Jesus Christ. What are the Hawkmen wearing?” His chest heaved, and his eyes teared. “I wish Tank could see this. I’ll bet he knows this movie. Next time I see him, I’m gonna give him f*cking hell for not telling me about it.”
Naiya smiled, her pleasure at his laughter bittersweet. She wondered if he realized how often he talked about Tank, how Tank was still a part of his life. How much he loved him. He would never get over losing Tank, especially if he was the one to pull the trigger.
“What are you smiling about, aside from this disaster of a movie?” He pulled her up between his legs, her back to his chest, the bulge of his erection unmistakable against her ass.
“You,” she said. “I’ve never heard you laugh before. Really laugh. I’ll have to show you some more of my favorite geek movies so I can hear you laugh again.”
“Like my geeky girl.” His lips whispered over her ear, his breath warm on her skin. “And her comic-book hero fetish.”