Falling For The Biker: The Vice President's Girl Chapter 25

Wren

Judi's laughter rings out, and I look over to find her nearly pressed into Mateo while his hands wrap around her waist to keep her from toppling over.

"Tell me about you, Wren," Liam suddenly says.

"Do you stay in this city? You don't look like a regular."

I chuckle. "Sorry to burst your bubble, but I stay here. It's been my home for the longest time."

"That's lovely. I'm only here for business though. I'm guessing you won't think of visiting LA any time soon."

My brows raise. "Los Angeles? You're quite a distance from home."

"Yea." He sips his drink and I do the same. "Mateo and I are doing some survey—"

"Miss Carlisle?"

Swiveling around at the sound of my name, I see that Liam and I are interrupted by a security guard.

"Depends," I reply. "Who's asking."

He steps closer. "Sorry to interrupt but Mr Jax has requested for you. He says that if you choose to decline, not only will he call your brother, but he will come down here himself. He says you wouldn't like that."

Abruptly, I pin my gaze up at the railing, glaring intensely at Ezra. He stares back, tipping his glass.

The security moves to grab me, but one look at my face has him stepping back.

"Is there a problem?" Liam stands, jaw tight as he steps towards the security.

I hold him by the arm. "It's okay. But I need to head up."

"Do you need me to come with you?" He searches my eyes and the concern in his orbs causes me to nearly melt.

"No." I shake my head with a small smile. "I'll handle it and be down before you know it."

Oh, Ezra, I'm going to throttle you the moment I get my hands on you.

"Alright, yell if you need me."

There would be yelling, but not from me.

"Of course." I pat his arms and relay the information to Judi.

Her wide eyes bounce between the railing and me. "Oh honey, I'm so sorry. Should I come tell him it's my fault?"

"Don't worry, I'll handle it." My smile is tight, and I take my leave.

The security guard leads the way up the dimly lit stairway.

Scents of expensive cigars, scotch and perfumes cling to my skin while the soft music vibrates in my chest.

The stairway leads to a large door with a 'VIP Only' sign along the arch and a security guard at the entrance.

"Welcome Miss Carlisle." He bows, opening the door, and I offer a polite smile.

I'm led right to Ezra who sits in the darkest corner on a wide lounge chair. In front of him is a small table that holds a bottle of whiskey, glasses and an ash tray with a cigar.

"Birdie," he breathes, tapping the butt of the cigar on the tray. "Sit." He pats the space beside him.

I scoff. "Do I look like a dog?"

Ezra waves away the guard, and he leaves after bowing.

I use the opportunity to note that some corners are darker than others, and I'm able to spot silhouettes of couples making out, while others drink or smoke.

"Now, I see why Ray said you're reckless. Sit down, Wren."

"You know you can berate me, scold me and whatever when I'm back at the clubhouse right?" I cross my arms.

A raspy chuckle slips past his lips. "That's not my tactic. Sit down, and I won't tell Ray about... this."

Pressing my lips together, I sit at the far end of the couch. "What do you want, Ezra?"

"To tell you that you're being stupid," he interjects quickly. "Do you understand the risk you put yourself in? A threat was made less than a week ago, yet you're sneaking out of the house with no sense of security whatsoever."

His tone is low, restrained, almost mechanical like he's trying to hold himself together.

Puffs of smoke fall from his lips, wrapping together in the space between us.

I pause, frowning. "You sound like you're upset."

"What gives?" He mutters dryly.

Silence settles between us like a thick fog. Ezra takes one last drag of his cigar and places it on the tray.

"You cannot walk around carelessly, Wren," he says, eyes piercing even in the dark. "You're Ray's little sister, you're a target. I don't know how many times you want us to say this."

I sigh. "I also cannot stay locked up in the clubhouse, Ezra."

"You should've asked me."

"Why?" I snort. "So that you'd annoy me?"

"It's not about you, Wren. I fear you still don't understand that your life is in probable danger." His eyes scan my body. "And you had to go out looking like that."

"Looking like what?" I bristle, fingers strumming against my thighs impatiently.

He leans closer, whiskey breath clad with smoke teases my nostrils as he speaks. "Like sex on legs, little bird. Like something I want to eat."

My throat tightens at the thick rasp of his voice but I shake my head. I don't even want to go there tonight.

"You took me from my date!" I snap instead, scooting away from him.

"Right." He leans back, and I exhale, relieved. "He's blonde. Is that your type?"

No.

"That's none of your business. If we're done here—"

His warm palm lands on my bare thigh. "I didn't like the way he touched you."

"Huh?" My throat dries, heat unfurling in my tummy.

Ezra leans closer, rubbing circles on my skin. I feel it all the way in my core.

"I don't trust those guys," he whispers, his cologne settling in my lungs. "They look like they have ulterior motives."

I swallow thickly, lips parted to speak. And just like that...a loud, and deep groan echoes in the room.

My neck nearly cracks as I turn to search for the sound. It takes a minute to find it, but I do when the wet sound of slurping meets my ears.

In one of the corners, I spot the silhouette of a woman kneeling between a man's legs, her head bobbing in tandem with the man's fists in her hair.

Something curls in my stomach, and I lick my lips which have suddenly gone dry.

"You're staring," Ezra whispers, his body heat seeping through my skin.

I rip my eyes away. "I'm not."

My voice is breathy even to my own ears.

He runs his knuckles down my cheeks, caressing my neck. I hold back a shudder.

"Did it turn you on?" Ezra murmurs, voice low, deep...sensual.

It's then I notice that the hushed whispers have turned into breathy sighs, soft moans and whimpers.

If I listen close enough, I swear I can hear the slapping of skin on skin.

My tongue sits heavy in my mouth. "W-what? N-no! How can you even ask me that?"

He chuckles, breath ghosting across the skin of my neck. Goosebumps erupt on my skin, wetness pooling in my core.

"What's going on here?" I hiss, despite the way my heart races in my chest. "Are people seriously having sex?"

Ezra's dark eyes roam my face and neck intently.

"Your skin is flushed, Birdie," he says. "Something tells me you're loving this, or worse...you want this."

"I don't—"

His teeth snag on his bottom lip, and he tugs it before gently releasing it. My eyes never waver from the sight.

"If I touch you..." he pauses, the words sinking into my very being. My eyes drop to his hands, the roughness of it is seared into my memory.

The images that his words bring are filthy, dirty...but my nipples still harden.

His eyes dip to them, and he licks his lips. "—will I find you wet, aching and ready for me?"

Well, there goes my panties.