“Bullshit. You’re a passionate woman.” Rory gave her a knowing look. “You might have to keep this part of yourself low-key to The Last Riders, but you don’t have to if you are over me.”
“Okaay …” she drawled out sarcastically. “Keeping telling yourself that to make yourself feel better. I’ve got a newsflash for you: you don’t have anything I can’t get from several—and I mean several—of The Last Riders, and that’s me being generous, which I can and have with a snap of my fingers.”
“Maybe so”—unperturbed with Jewell throwing other men in his face, he gave her a laconic smile—“but they won’t be me.” Reaching around the console, Rory placed a hand on a thigh closest to him. “There’s a difference between being fucked by an amateur and a professional. Any mechanic can change oil, but if you really want it done right, you take your car to the dealership to make it come out purring.”
Rory laughed when Jewell tossed his hand back to his side.
“I wouldn’t call any of The Last Riders amateurs until you’ve seen them in action.”
“You say they’re better than me at fucking? That doesn’t seem fair. How do you know who’s better until you’ve fucked me?”
“I don’t have to taste sauerkraut to know I won’t like it.” She sniffed disdainfully.
“I bet I can change your mind.”
“Do you really think I’m lame enough to fall into that trap?”
“It doesn’t hurt to try.”
Warmth filled his heart when she couldn’t hide her smile. He had witnessed only a few since he had known her. It hadn’t taken him long to realize she kept her feelings close to her chest, only releasing her pent-up emotions when she believed herself alone, outside of anyone’s sight.
She might believe herself insulated by belonging to The Last Riders, yet where her emotions were concerned, she stood alone with everyone passing her by.
“You’re beautiful when you smile.”
“Can you take a chill pill?”
“Just putting it out there.”
Jewell gave him a harassed glare. “Then put it back in.”
“I can’t. Even if I could, I wouldn’t.”
“I’m going to hate myself for asking, but—why not?”
“The best part of childhood was watching for fireflies. I’m going to tell you a secret about myself—I never tried to catch them, and I wouldn’t let my brothers or sister go after them, either. They had a beauty I appreciated as they went gliding along, but when they would stop and rest, you could see the delicate creatures they were. Yet they could illuminate everything around them. I like watching you the same way I did them. I think, with The Last Riders, you’re playing it safe, content to remain in the glass jar. Don’t worry, Firefly; The Last Riders aren’t the only ones who can keep you safe.”
Jewell chose to remain unresponsive, staring doggedly out the window as if she were alone. Rory let her be. He wasn’t going to be able to blow past the boundaries she hid the true Jewell behind.
He had met several hard women while working as a gigolo; the one thing they had in common was a hurt so bad it had hit like running headlong into an electric fence. They became afraid to get past the safe boundaries where that horrible pain could never be felt again.
She was content in the lifestyle she had with the club, where she could hide from the outside world, breathing only the air that had been poked through the top of a lid. Yet, when the top was taken off, she refused to fly away, content to remain in the glass jar that had become her home.
This morning, when they had been in the hotel room, he had held off making a firm move in her direction for that reason. Biding his time was important, as it allowed him to take a breather to dig deep within himself before he made any further moves in her direction.
When he had come out of the bathroom to find Jewell gone from the room, he was disappointed as well as relieved. The signs of attraction traveling back and forth between them were so combustible that it would take little to set it off. Hence why she had run. The Last Riders were her safe place when any emotion endangered the boundary she was determined to stay within.
A ping from Jewell’s phone broke the strained silence.
“Viper said for you to hang tight after we get back to Treepoint,” she informed him unhappily. “They’re checking some stuff out. Want to make sure you don’t leave until they get back.”
Letting his fingers drum on the steering wheel, he thought that at least one of his problems had been solved as to remain near Jewell.
A sudden thought occurred to him.
“Will you be going to Ohio tomorrow?”
Sparing a peeved glance at his dancing fingertips before setting her phone back down, she said, “No. He wants me to hang, too. I couldn’t get a break if it was handed to me on a gold platter.”