Unbeautifully (Undeniable, #2)(14)

“Danny,” he growled, refusing to look at her. “You keep touchin’ me like that and I ain’t gonna be responsible for what I end up doin’.”

Then he felt it. Her lips pressed a soft kiss on the center of his chest, over the worst of the scars and lingered there, softly kissing.

And then he heard it. Five little words that shut off his brain and spurred his body into action. “Ripper,” she whispered against his ruined skin. “Make my prom night perfect.”

She’d wham, bam, thank you for your services, Ripper, and they’d gone their separate ways. No need to tell anyone; no need to do it again.

Which brought up another question. Why the f*ck had she done it in the first place?

Because she was drunk? To give her father a secret f*ck-you?

Between Deuce and Cage constantly breathing down her neck, the girl hadn’t had a whole lot of freedom to do as she pleased. So he supposed in a way it made sense that she’d ended up in bed with a brother, the only human beings with dicks that Deuce had willingly let her associate with.

But lately Deuce had been absent from the world, and Cage was usually buried in women.

If she’d just wanted a f*ck, there were other brothers, younger, a lot less f*cked-up looking.

Holy shit…had she been a virgin?

Oh god, he was going to throw up.

Why had she done this to him? What the f*ck had he ever done to her?

“Hello?” Nikki snapped her fingers in front of his face. “This is a party, remember? Loosen up.”

Yeah. Whatever. There was always a party. Between the club members and their families, it was always someone’s birthday, a wedding, a baby being born. He froze. Birthdays. Holy f*ck, how old was Danny?

Ripper scanned his memories, thinking back to the birthdays over the past year and…

His shoulders slumped as he sighed in relief. She was eighteen. Legal. Thank you, God. She’d turned eighteen a few weeks before he’d turned thirty-two.

Shoving Nikki’s hand out of his face, he glanced back across the lawn.

And…she still wasn’t looking at him.

He’d spent an entire week thinking about nothing but her, wondering if she’d spilled the beans, wondering if she was going to show her face at the club, wondering why he gave a shit if she showed her face at the club or not, freaking the f*ck out every time he saw Deuce, thinking at any second he was going to get his balls blown off.

He stubbed out his smoke on the picnic table, grabbed his pack, and shook out another.

Was it over with?

Could he just forget the whole f*cking deal and move on?

He wished someone would tell him.

That someone being Danny, who, by the way, still wasn’t looking at him.

And f*ck him, he was still looking at her.

He couldn’t stop.

Danny was the natural version of Nikki. Naturally blonde, naturally tan, didn’t have to wear a shitload of makeup.

Nine years ago, when he’d first met Nikki, he’d liked her enough to consider her his girl. She was hot as f*ck, curvy as hell, and a freak in bed. Only problem was he never got to that point where he’d wanted to give up * on the side, and strangely enough, Nikki had been okay with it. Then when he’d come home, all f*cked-up from Frankie, she hadn’t even blinked. She hadn’t given a f*ck.

That’s when Ripper knew she was just like every other club whore, only in his bed for what the club could give her. But he hadn’t cared. She was just some bitch he threw a couple of bills at once in a while. She got the club and he got * whenever he wanted it. It worked.

He glanced over at Nikki and frowned. Her dyed blonde hair was dried out and frizzy, her makeup cakey, her eyes tired. And all those curves had expanded. The bitch looked beat-up, older than she was, and sadly still trying to rock those tiny leather skirts he used to love.

Yeah, it wasn’t working anymore.

He glanced back at Danny. At that killer body, the slinky pink sundress covering it, her long blonde hair hanging down her back in soft curls and…

He’d been inside that.

He’d been inside that.

Fuck him. It still wasn’t registering. He knew it had happened, had the memories, but couldn’t fathom it. He hadn’t been with a woman that beautiful since before Frankie.

Ripper couldn’t even remember the last time he’d been with someone like Danny. Clean and good and…virtually untouched. Because she hadn’t been a virgin, right? She hadn’t acted like a virgin. God, he hoped like hell she hadn’t been a virgin.

“Are you going to be like this all day?” Nikki asked.

He ignored her. Danny was on the move, walking toward the clubhouse, all that pink material clinging to her body, inching up her thighs. Thighs he remembered wrapped around his waist, her nails digging into his shoulders, her screaming out his name while he pounded into her.

He stared and stared and…she shot a glance his way and yep, he got a reaction. Her eyes went wide, her face turned red, and she quickly looked away.

So…what the f*ck did that mean?

Was she embarrassed that she’d f*cked him? A girl like her, he wouldn’t blame her.

But…she’d begged for his cock. She’d whined and begged, grinding her * against his mouth, ripping his hair out of his head.

“Ripper,” she’d cried out, thrashing beneath him. “Now, please, please, now…”