Never Have an Outlaw's Baby (Deadly Pistols MC #3)(7)

Too bad this was Seddon, and this town didn't forgive. Joker probably had more mercy in his deadly makeup than this God-forsaken place.

That scared me. Turned my blood to bitter ice, or it would've, if only holding onto him didn't make me thaw.

Joker felt warm. Strong. Like the fire in his blood burbled to the surface, brightening the world around it, the only flame shielding me from the greater darkness.

Several minutes on his bike, and I never wanted it to end.

Of course, it did, and soon we were coming down my street, rounding our way down the long unpaved road to mama's house.

“No lights on. Your ma must go to bed early, yeah?” he asked, killing his engine before we crept too close to her car, and jerking off his helmet. He turned around.

Those bright, hazel eyes glowed like a mountain lion's in the moonlight. I lowered my eyes, unable to hold his gaze for more than a second.

“Yeah. She hasn't been doing too well lately. The doctors don't know what it is.”

Or if they know, she isn't telling me, I thought bleakly. Mama hated when I suffered or worried about her, so she hid the hurt. Just kept it to herself, except for the nights when the breakdown in her body became so overwhelming she cried in her sleep.

Joker stood up, extended a hand, and locked his fingers perfectly in mine. The helmet slid off my head. He helped me up, tucking a loose lock of hair back behind my ear.

“It's been one f*ck of a night. Go crash, Summer. Sleep it off 'til you can't remember that prick I knocked to hell back there. He ain't worth your time. Bastard'll be too f*ckin' busy getting his face rebuilt to worry about giving you any more trouble. Promise. Tomorrow's gonna be better than this shit.”

“It hasn't been all bad,” I said shyly, dragging one foot on the ground.

God. I was like a cartoon schoolgirl with my heart beating out of my chest every time I tried to speak to him.

Stupid.

Outrageous.

Irresistible.

“Yeah?” he said, reaching into his pocket for a cigarette, then giving it a flame. “Can't say I see the glass half full when it's full of mud, but I ain't blaming you for looking on the sunny side. Keep that shit up. You'll go places, little Summer.”

Little? Jesus, he couldn't be more than five or ten years older than me. My heart sank, flaming the whole way down, hating the fact that he just saw me as some dumb girl he'd pulled from the fire.

Hated it even more that I couldn't assert myself, couldn't even meet his eyes when he gave me those slow, smooth glances in between staring out at the stars overhead.

“You oughta get in so I can take off,” he said, taking a long pull off his cig. “No need for your ma to stumble out here and see me hanging around.”

“It doesn't have to be this way,” I said, stepping up to him. “It doesn't have to be a bad night. I never got a chance to thank you for what you did back there, you and Freddy.”

It took every ounce of strength I had to throw my hands around his neck. I did it quick, clumsy, but God help me, I did.

Joker's eyes narrowed. Slowly, he reached up and pulled the cigarette from his mouth, blowing a last strand of smoke out the side of his lips.

The cig hit the ground and crunched loudly under his boot as he rubbed it out. Then, his hands were on me, jerking me in so fast I slammed into his chest.

Crap, crap, crap. My heart couldn't keep up with my head spinning a thousand miles an hour.

One rough, huge hand cupped my face, stroked my loose black hair back, and pulled me into him. Our lips touched like lightning splintering the sky.

For a split second, there was a sweet hesitation, a tease so hot I whimpered. He silenced me by bringing it home.

His lips crushed down on mine. My mouth opened, perfectly unlocked for his tongue. Trembling, I let it happen, let him push his tongue against mine. Twining, lashing, owning it in the first kiss I'd ever had that truly took my breath away.

This wasn't even in the same universe as the clueless boys I'd made out with before. This was a man's kiss, a kiss that would've brought me to my knees if he hadn't tightened his hold, keeping me against him.

This kiss pulled me under the storming sea named Jackson Taylor, stripped me bare, and refused to let go.

Suddenly, he tore his lips away from mine, leaving me to gasp for sorely needed air.

“That what you wanted?” he asked, a smug quirk pulling at his lips.

I still couldn't speak. So, I just nodded dumbly, moving my hands over his neck. A second later, he gently pushed me away, heading for his bike.

“We're done here,” he said, words that dashed my feverish lush like gun smoke.

“Hey, wait!” I whined, running after him. I caught up with him just as he was fixing his helmet.

He looked at me, pushed his hand against my face, holding a finger over his lips. “Don't give me any bullshit, babe. That's all you get, and it's a lot more than you deserve.”

Deserve? What?! I stopped cold in my tracks, shot through the chest by his words, wondering where the hell I'd screwed up.

“You look goddamned beautiful under this moonlight. Don't ever let a man tell you less.” He paused, straddling his bike, ready to start it anytime. “Trouble is, I ain't a f*ckin' fool. You're barely on the right side of being jailbait, and I'm not biting, Summertime. You're too f*ckin' young, babe. Too new. You deserve better. You're looking for more than skin and sweat when you kiss. I can't give you that.”