Ruined: A scorching hot romance book with a bad-boy. Perfect for fans of Fifty Shades Freed. Jackie Ashenden
in one corner—except the woman had her head in one lap while her hand worked the guy next him.
Jesus. Smoke hadn’t been kidding about these parties.
I’d only been in the clubhouse a couple of times, but I knew where the bedrooms were and I headed straight there, with my attention firmly on the doorway that led to them. Only to be stopped by a massive dude with tats everywhere, a heavy black beard and the weirdest pale green eyes I’d ever seen.
‘Big Red’ the name on his cut said. The VP. I hadn’t met him before, but Smoke had told me about him. Meanest motherfucker this side of Genghis Khan, apparently.
Just my luck to run into him.
‘Hey, darlin’, whatcha doing here?’ he asked lazily. ‘I ain’t seen you before.’
I gave him a smile, trying to be nice. ‘I’m looking for Smoke. Tiger said he was down this way.’
‘Aw, you don’t need to see Smoke. You can see me.’
Great—first the prospect, now this guy. Could this night get any better?
I widened my smile. ‘Perhaps I could come see you afterward?’
He laughed, raised a hand and gave my chin a pinch—which I did not appreciate. ‘Smoke’s kinda busy at the moment, sweetheart.’
‘Why? What’s he doing?’
Big Red laughed again. ‘He’s with Hannah. He won’t want to be interrupted.’
Of course. Smoke was with a woman. Well, every other guy appeared to be, so why not him?
Simmering anger coiled tight in my gut. So, not only had I been forced to come down here to beg for help during a goddamn party, I was now being forced to interrupt my best friend having sex. And all because my asshole ex, Justin, hadn’t brought Annie home when he’d promised.
I caught that anger, held fast to it—because it sure as hell was better than the cold fear that lay beneath it.
Keeping the smile plastered firmly to my face, I sidestepped the massive VP. ‘Oh, I think he’ll appreciate an extra,’ I said as I moved past him, giving him a wink.
Leaving Big Red safely behind me, I stepped through the door into the corridor beyond. It was quiet back here; the only sounds were the beat of some kind of heavy house music coming from behind one door and the groans coming from behind another.
Oh, God, please don’t let him be behind that door.
I moved down the corridor and was wondering where the hell he was and whether I needed to start knocking on doors and embarrassing myself, when I rounded the corner.
And stopped.
Dead.
A tall figure leaned against the wall. A familiar figure. Six three. Wide shoulders. Lean hips. Hair the colour of black ink cut short and close to his skull. Cheekbones God himself would envy. A strong, hard jaw. Straight nose and straight black brows. A mouth that apparently had sin written all over it—at least it did according to some of my friends.
Smoke. The person I knew best in the world and who knew me best, too. Whom I’d met when I was five and he was seven and we were next-door neighbours. I was his friend the moment he jumped on his skateboard, a skinny little kid in torn jeans and scraped knees, showing off for the new girl next door.
He’d done magic on that board. He’d been like the wind—smooth and fluid and powerful. Even at seven. Right then and there I decided I was going to marry him.
I didn’t, of course.
Because if I had I certainly wouldn’t be here, standing in a bikers’ clubhouse, watching him with his long fingers buried in the dark hair of the woman kneeling in front of him. Obviously getting a blow job.
A wave of the weirdest heat went through me. He always had women hanging around, and I’d seen him making out with them on more than one occasion and it had never bothered me. But there was something about this that hit me like the flame from a blowtorch.
He’d always been a quiet, guarded kind of guy. Never let anyone see what he was thinking, kept everything locked down. Even with me. And if you tried asking him about himself he’d give you a couple of sentences then turn the question back on you—which made him a great listener.
But that’s why they called him Smoke. Because it was just a smokescreen, a distraction so he didn’t have to talk about himself.
Yet there was no smokescreen now, and the expression on his face...
I couldn’t look away.
I’d always known he was a beautiful man, but I’d never felt it before. Now, though, I was mesmerised by the intensity that burned in his features. By the fierce hunger that drew his impressive jaw tight and made the powerful tendons of his neck stand out.
He had his attention on the woman as if every movement she made was incredibly important, and his mouth was moving as he whispered things I couldn’t hear. I found myself wondering what kind of expression would be in those dark eyes of his. Whether they would be burning with hunger, too.
And what it would be like if he looked at you that way, too.
Shit. I shoved the thought away. Hard. Smoke and I had never gone there and never would. Once, when I was about sixteen, I’d had a major crush on him, but he never gave me any hint that he felt the same way—not once.
So I’d pushed it aside, forgotten about it. And I definitely didn’t want all those old feelings bubbling up again now. No fucking way.
I loved Smoke—he was my best friend. But when it came to sex, men were nothing but trouble, and I didn’t want anything to do with them. Perhaps forever.
As if he’d sensed my presence, Smoke’s head came up sharply, his black eyes slamming into mine.
And the weird heat that had me gripped intensified.
Holy shit. There was something in his gaze that made my knees weak for a second, that made me dizzy. Made me forget who I was.
As if he was looking at me for the first time in his life and really seeing me.
It was wrong and strange, and I didn’t know how to deal with it. So I looked away, my face feeling like it was about to go up in flames.
‘Cat?’
His voice was usually quiet and deep, but now there was an edge to it, rough and husky, that made something inside me shiver.
‘What the fuck are you doing here?’
I stared fixedly at the wall opposite. ‘Sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt. But...I need you.’
‘Christ, I’m a little busy—’
‘It’s Annie.’
He went silent. After a moment he muttered something to the woman kneeling at his feet. There was the sound of rustling fabric, the jingle of the chains attached to Smoke’s low-slung jeans, a zipper being done up.
I tried to will the blush in my cheeks away, tried to calm the fast beating of my heart. I had no idea what was wrong with me, but whatever it was I didn’t have time for it.
The woman hurried past me, giving me a pissed-off look. Clearly she didn’t like being interrupted either.
‘Talk to me,’ Smoke said shortly.
I took a moment to calm myself, then looked back at him.
The expression on his face was the same as it always was—guarded, wary. The walls behind his dark eyes were impregnable. That fierce, hungry look was gone as if it had never been. And there was a part of me that couldn’t help but be sad about that. A part that wanted to see it again.
Getting a hold of myself, I ignored that part. ‘I’m sorry—I really didn’t want to come out here. But it’s Justin. He