Time Will Tell (Maybe #3)(51)
He’s also the one I can’t stop thinking about.
Quite a conundrum.
Well, for me anyway.
Have you ever seen someone for the first time and just wanted them? Something about them attracts you, like a moth to a flame, without rhyme or reason. Every time I look at Arrow I feel that pull. That want, that need. There is something about him, something that draws me to him. Sure, he is gruff and rough around the edges. He is also temperamental, broody, and usually pretty damn grumpy. He is a man of few words—the strong, silent type. The more time he is forced to spend as my babysitter, the more I’ve gotten him to open up. Slowly, little by little, he’s started speaking to me. It is progress, but still, I know I am stupid to hope for anything more. Sure, my heart races whenever he is near, but I try to ignore that little factor as best as I can. It doesn’t change anything. Arrow is my guilty pleasure, something I know I shouldn’t want but want anyway. The thing is, I’ve seen little glimpses of him that make me believe he is more than he shows the world. I’ve seen him playing with Clover, the MC president’s daughter, and sneaking her strawberry candy. I’ve seen him tickling her, her loud giggles echoing throughout the room. I then overheard him telling her that if any boy messes with her, to let him know and he would take care of it because no one hurts the princess.
She’s five.
No one can tell me the man doesn’t have a heart.
“Get on the bike and hold on,” he demands, turning away from me. It frustrates me that he never looks at me for longer than he has to. Is he not attracted to me at all? I’m not vain, but I know that I’m not completely unfortunate in the looks department. Adam has even said I’m too beautiful for my own good, but as my brother, I guess he’s a little biased.
Maybe Arrow sees me as nothing more than Adam’s baby sister. Butthat doesn’t explain why he always seems so eager to leave my presence. I like to think I’m easy to be around, and sometimes even a little fun.
“Where are we going?” I ask as he hands me my helmet.
“Rake wants to see you at the clubhouse,” he replies distractedly.
“Then why didn’t he pick me up himself?” I ask. Not that I’m complaining, since I secretly covet being around Arrow, but still.
“I was closer to campus, so it just made more sense. Now are you getting on the bike or are we gonna sit around while all these stuck-up *s stare at us?”
I look around.
Yeah, people are still staring. If he didn’t want the attention, maybe he shouldn’t have worn his cut today. Who am I kidding? People would stare either way. Arrow is imposing. It is in his build, the breadth of his shoulders, the way he carries himself. The sharpness of his gaze. He just commands attention around him, and there is nothing he can do about it. He couldn’t fade into the background if he tried. I slide onto the back of his bike. Wrapping my arms around his waist, I grip the leather in my hands and lean into him. He smells like leather and . . . strawberry candy? I want to ask, but before I can he starts the engine and pulls out of the lot. I hold tight, enjoying both the ride and the feel of my body pressed against his.
I’d never been on a motorcycle until I moved back here. It was a new experience, and one I found that I loved. Nothing felt more freeing, and I found myself wanting to get my own motorcycle license. If being on the back feels this way, I can only imagine how good it feels to be in front, in control of the bike.
I wonder what my brother would think about that idea.
Adam and I didn’t have the best childhood growing up. Neither of us talks about it much, to each other or to anyone else—at least that’s how it used to be before I left. After I turned eighteen, I moved to the other side of the country for college. That was the year Adam—or should I say Rake—joined the Wind Dragons MC. We kept in touch here and there, messages, phone calls on birthdays and holidays, but for the most part we grew apart. He was busy, I was busy, and we were too far away to be of any real use to each other. I know he’s proud of me. He used to tell me every time we spoke on the phone. He was happy I was making something of myself—starting from scratch to become someone statistics prove I shouldn’t be. I also know he wants the best for me, he always has, but it almost feels like he doesn’t know how to act around me anymore, how to be himself. He’s changed over the years, I guess being in a motorcycle club will do that, but underneath he’s still my Adam. A mix of protective, sweet, and goofy and usually found with a grin on his face or a woman on his arm.
That definitely hasn’t changed. My brother has always been, and will always be, a ladies’ man. However, he’s gotten even more protective of me than he was before I left the city, which makes no sense, because I’m not a girl anymore, I’m a grown woman. I’m his baby sister, by a year, but he’s acting like I’m seventeen and trying to keep tabs on my every move. It was cute at first—but now it’s getting damn annoying and he and I are in need of a good chat. I can’t imagine he’s any better at compromising than he was growing up, but maybe I can use my puppy-dog eyes to let him loosen the reins a little. The truth of the matter is I love being around Rake and his MC. I just don’t like being controlled. I want to be there on my terms, not his. I want to be given choices and know that I’m being heard. Being around a group full of alpha males isn’t easy.
I sigh against Arrow’s back, enjoying the sensation of being pressed up against a man I should be glad wouldn’t give me the time of day. He’s dangerous, I know it and so would anyone who saw him. It is more than his physical appearance. You can almost feel the menace radiating from him, the raw power. It also doesn’t take a genius to see that he has an extralarge chip on his shoulder, weighing down on his muscular build. My breasts rub against his back and I feel him tense, so I move away slightly, my fingers gripping him with more pressure than before.