Page 5 of Lick

Savannah’s parents were loving and grateful and didn’t have crazy expectations of their daughter. They simply wanted her to be happy. Not like my parents who thought I should conform to their ways. I tried, but I couldn’t continue trying to live a life that didn’t make me happy.

Savannah, knowing that she was adopted, always wanted to make her parents proud. She was a great student and a loving daughter. She never wanted to be a disappointment to them; that was one concern she always confided in me. That’s why she’d kept quiet about the abuse she endured from Tyson.

Life here is so much different from anything I’ve ever known. I can’t imagine growing up in the MC. I’m still trying to wrap my head around me being here as a guest. Still living with Bianca, still trying to finish school (something I should have been done with) and getting my own life on track. I was supposed to come for a visit, just to check in on a friend who at one point lost her way, but things changed. I started to change, and I realized that there was more to life than what I knew. I wanted things, and staying at home wasn’t going to allow me to achieve my goals. It’s hard to obtain a college education when you have parents who believe a woman’s place is in the home, serving her husband and raising a family. There are only a few things that I know when it comes to my own life. One, that I want to teach, and two, that I don’t want to do it in my hometown. I don’t plan on ever going back there. My parents can continue to dote on my younger brother since he’s never been the disappointment that I’ve been.

As I look out onto the backyard, I try to think of how different our parents would react to seeing a yard full of leather wearing, tattooed, scruffy guys. Mine would drop to their knees while praying to God that there was a chance for these men and their souls. But Savannah’s parents would love each and every one of them with open arms.

“Cut,” I call out, making him turn and face me. His gaze is fierce as it lands on me. His shoulder length hair falls in waves along his face. The product he uses to keep it away from his face makes it shine in the sunlight. The T-shirt that adorns his muscled flesh is stretched tight around his chest, sleeves taut around his biceps. There was a time when this guy scared me to my core. His presence alone is intimidating, and when he’s in protection mode, it’s even worse.

“Lily said to start the grill.”

“It’s already started,” he calls back.

I look over to the older guys of the MC sitting under the shade of the mulberry tree, sipping on their beers laughing about something. Those guys have been around way before the time when Cut was put in charge. Many of them had known their president when he walked around in diapers as a baby, and yet now they look to him for leadership. That’s total respect if I’ve ever seen it.

Cut stands at the grill with Hawk, Tiny, and a newer guy named Cruise, but Lick is sitting by himself watching his brothers. He scans the area, eyes constantly moving. I wonder why he does that. Why, even in his brother’s backyard, does he feel the need to be on high alert. I gaze as he brings a beer bottle to his lips, his forearms flex with the movement. So much power under all that leather and cotton. So much strength. He’s gorgeous really. Tragically flawed in so many ways, but gorgeous all the same.

It’s sad to see someone so lost when they’re always around people. Hawk seems to be a similar way, but he fronts it differently. He’s always laughing and joking about what life has thrown at him. He tends to look on the brighter side of things while Lick is quick to anger, quick to act and quick to spew some ungodly things from that mouth of his. He has a silver tongue, and man can he wield it when he’s angry, but I know that its part of his armor. It’s his shield. I knew it the first moment I met him. That man has so many layers to him, but I have a feeling that no matter how much time I spend with him, he will never allow me to see who he really is.

“Why did you come to my rescue?” I ask, safe in his arms.

“Don’t think of it as rescuing.”

I know his answer is bull crap. I know that he did that because I was in trouble and deep down, he was worried. “Well, he had his hands on me, and you pulled him off then clocked him, so I call that a rescue.”

“Don’t read too much into that shit, baby. Maybe I just don’t want other men touching, what I want to touch myself.” Unwrapping his arms from around my body, he places his hands on my waist, pushing me away. His woodsy, engine oil and all man smell that I was just engulfed in, dissipates with his distance.

“But the fucker was right. You keep dressing like a slut, then you’re gonna be treated like a slut. You might wanna keep that in mind when you work in a fucking motorcycle shop. This ain’t no fucking lady’s boutique.”

He turns around, leaving me alone.

These men, honestly. They’re like walking sex pots. Every single one of them. I’m not naive when it comes to men and how they see me. From the time I hit puberty, my body has been changing and I know guys are physical creatures. I know that how I dress might invite advances that I may not want. But I can’t live my life in a burlap sack just to make sure men don’t put their hands on me.

“Hey, Jugs.”

I roll my eyes at hearing this latest name from Lick. Never once has he called me by my actual name. That’s one of the reasons why I refuse to call him by his road name. I don’t have much ammo against him. I can’t even start to compete against that mouth of his, so I do what little I can to get under his skin.

“What, Tylan?” I ask as I make my way over.

“How many more of these damn things do I have to blow up? I’m getting light headed over here.”

“It’s gonna take a lot more than blowing up a few balloons to deplete all that hot air you’ve got stored up in those lungs of yours, hotshot.”

“From where I’m standing, I’d say that by the look of your lungs you have way more than enough hot air to spare.” I playfully smack his shoulder, but as soon as I place my hand on his skin, his arm darts out and wraps around me, pulling me to his body. “When are ya gonna let me look at those lungs of yours, huh?” He leans down and places a light kiss on my neck.

My nipples harden, and without warning a soft moan escapes my lips, rewarding me with another kiss upon my skin. There’s always a little humor behind the words that he speaks to me. That’s us: always goofing around, always joking, and never serious. How I’d love for him to be serious when it came to us, but I know I can’t push. I’d rather keep him in my life, just like this than risk losing him forever.

“What’d I say earlier? Get a room already!” I hear Hawk yell from the other side of the yard.

Lick releases me, taking a step back and turning away. Over the past few months, this is what I’ve lived with. The secret intimate embraces, soft touches, chaste kisses when no one’s looking, but never anything more.

The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end, and the air around me buzzes with electricity. I can feel him even though he hasn’t said a word. I continue painting the nursery room walls. Bringing my brush up and then back down, up then back down. Leaning over at the waist, I paint towards the bottom of the wall. I know I’m teasing. I know that I’m provoking a beast that has yet to be tamed, but I can’t help myself.

I can hear him step into the carpeted room. My body comes alive with anticipation, my need to get my fix. I’ve turned in to an addict, totally hooked on all things Lick. The quick kisses, silent touches. The moments that are only ours. Those are the things that I now crave.

“What are you doing, Sugar Tits?” Lick grabs my hips from behind. The heat of his breath against my neck gives me shivers.

“What do you think I’m doing?”