Falling For The Biker: The Vice President's Girl Chapter 17

Wren

One moment I'm dancing and laughing with Lizzy. The next moment rapid gun fires sound.

I'm frozen to the spot, watching the ladies scream and run while the men fire back, pushing some ladies into hiding.

It's like an out of body experience. Seeing, yet unseeing.

"Wren, what the fuck are you doing? Run!" Lizzy's voice snaps me out of it. She tugs at my arm, running with me.

My heart hammers in my chest, and blood roars in my ears, drowning the chatters.

Someone drops to the ground in front of me.

"Shit!" Lizzy cusses, running over to the man. "He's hurt, Wren. I need to grab him before he bleeds out, go inside but be careful, they may be in there."

My throat tightens, crippling fear makes me tremble, my knees turn to jelly. "I c-can't. I'll stay here with—"

"Wren! Fucking hell!"

I spot Ezra as he marches up to me, a gun in his hands firing.

"Why are you just standing there? Do you want to get nicked?" He scolds, grabbing my arm. He looks over at Lizzy. "I'll send someone to assist you."

Then, he drags me with him into the clubhouse.

Two men stand with their guns raised, and aimed but Ezra fires immediately.

Three rapid gunshots, and I scream.

Ezra cups my mouth immediately, pushing me up against the wall behind the kitchen cupboard.

"Stop it," he hisses. "Don't you have any sense of self-preservation?"

I swallow, shivering from both the fear and our proximity.

His eyes soften, and he sighs. "You're safe, okay? I've got you. Come on."

I search his eyes, and nod because I trust him with my life. We may not like each other, but I know he would protect me with his life.

"Let's go up." He slips his large hand into mine, and we quietly go up the stairs.

I take in the broken glass table, blood splatters on the floor and two bodies. My hand tightens in his, stomach rolling.

The door to his room pushes open, and he looks around. It's still untouched, and hasn't been tampered with.

"Stay here, okay, let me—"

Footsteps run up the steps and Ezra opens the door quickly, gun in hand. I lean behind him, holding my breath as the footsteps come closer.

"EJ!" Clay rounds the corner, I breathe out a sigh of relief. "Fuck, call Ray. We need both of you out there, talk to them."

Ezra holds my arm, staring into my soul. "Stay here, I'll be right back. Don't go anywhere, I mean it, Wren."

I nod weakly, and he clicks the door shut. Pressing my ear against the door, I listen as their footsteps slowly retreat.

I crawl into Ezra's bed, the yelling and gunshots from outside slowly reduce, and so does my heart rate.

One of the men was the bald-headed man from the mall. Fortunately, Lizzy dragged me before he could spot me.

My mind spins endlessly, replaying the events that just took place. The sound of the gunshot is on repeat in my mind, splatters of blood flash behind my eyes.

I tug the ring on my finger, twisting it, trying to hold onto some semblance of normalcy.

The door flies open, and I jerk up, sighing when I see it's just Ezra.

"Sorry," he says. "Didn't mean to startle you."

I stand with a frown, taking in his scraped cheek and bloody knuckles. "What happened out there?"

"We had to settle somehow." He shrugs like it's totally normal.

He swipes a bloody hand beneath his nose, smearing blood across his face.

"Well, do you have a kit? Let me clean you up."

He gives me a look, brows dipped low. "Don't worry about it, Mrs Dee will take care of it."

"Now is not the time to be stubborn. Mrs Dee is taking care of others..."

"So you want to take care of me, huh?" He wiggles his brows, then winces, grimacing in pain.

I move closer, inspecting his bruises. That's when I notice the wetness of his dark shirt that clings to his lower abdomen.

Pressing a finger to the spot, Ezra hisses, and my finger comes back red. I blanch.

"You're bleeding!" I gasp. "Where is the kit?"

He looks down at his stomach, sweat beads form on his temples as he sinks down to the chair.

"Bathroom," he croaks, "—the lower cabinet."

I rush in, grabbing the kit.

"Take off your clothes," I instruct. His lips part to speak and I give him a warning look. "Just shut up and take it off."

"So bossy," he says, shrugging off his leather jacket and the black under shirt.

My throat tightens at his bare skin. His toned chest ripples, abs taut. Streaks of scarlet stain his skin, and goosebumps prickle across.

He's so sexy, and I hate it. Arrogance plus good looks should not go together.

"Are you going to keep staring or?" His infuriating voice pulls me out of my thoughts.

I glare at the smug look on his face, my cheeks heating up. "Shut up."

He presses his lips together, and I busy myself with the alcohol and cotton wools.

I wipe the blood from the wound, inspecting it. "It's just a graze. You're lucky you don't need stitches, l I'll just put a band aid over it."

My tongue presses on my cheek, eyes squinted in concentration as I work while also trying not to get carried away by how hard and heated his body is.

"All done," I say, placing the final band aid over the graze on his cheek. "Consider it my 'thanks', for getting me out of there."

Ezra holds my hand on his face, my words die in my throat. I swallow, breath hitching at the contact.

"You don't need to thank me," he rasps. "I'll always protect you."

My stomach dips. His thighs spread wider, encasing me between them.

The position is intimate, and by the way his breath fans across my exposed stomach, we're way too close.

"Okay," I squeak.

Slowly, he rises to his feet. Before I can take a step back, his hand curls around my waist.

My lips part on a gasp, and his lips twitch.

"It's my turn to clean you up," he says. " You've got a little blood here—" his other hand caresses a spot on my cheek, "...here—" he touches my temple, "...and here." His knuckle trails down my collar bone, between the valley of my breast.

A visible shudder works through my body, my toes curl in my shoes and warmth pools in my belly.

"Ezra..." my voice is small, breathy. And his eyes, god, they're so intense, swirling with desire, heat.

"Do you feel that, Wren? That pull between us?" His eyes darken, flicking to my mouth. I swipe my tongue across it.

He inhales sharply, throat bobbing on a swallow.

I'm speechless, powerless when it comes to Ezra.

"It's wrong," he continues. "Your brother would slit my throat for even standing this close. But tell me, little bird—" his breath ghosts against my skin, "—are you trembling because you hate me... or because you've wanted this as much as I have?"

Wetness slicks between my thighs, and I press them together, sending tingles up my spine.

"Oh god," I moan.

Ezra's thumb brushes my lips, tugging it. My heart pounds in my chest, nipples brushing up against his bare chest.

We're flush against each other, gazes dark with desire. I feel his thick length snug against me, and god, he feels so good.

Maybe it's the adrenaline from everything that happened, but I find myself leaning in, eyes zoned in on his lips...pink, full, and wet from his tongue.

"Kiss me, Ezra," I whisper without thinking, our lips brushing. "Ki—"

A sudden loud knock causes us to jump apart, my heart beating for other reasons.

"EJ! Ray's here. He's asking for you and Wren, have you seen her?"

Our eyes lock on each other, and only one word spills past our lips.

"Shit!"