Wolf.e: A Dark MC Romance
Wolf.e: Chapter 17

By exactly 2:15 p.m. I’m ready to head out the door in my standard skinny jeans and Chucks toward my car when I hear the rumble of bikes. I grab my bag, shut everything off and rush, determined to get out of my driveway, just in case. But by the time I get to the porch it’s apparent something is already blocking it. A Harley. A rather fancy one I didn’t see the first day I saw Wolfe downtown. This one is a soft matte black and looks like a beautiful custom job.

But the bike isn’t what has my attention now. It’s the man leaning against the seat. The very man I’ve done my best to avoid all day, looking like heartbreak and the most dangerous kind of sin.

For the first time since I laid eyes on him, I admit it openly to myself with no hesitation.

Wolfe is so gorgeous it’s almost suffocating, and for some insane reason he’s sitting in my driveway waiting for me.

“I guess owning the best body shop in town has its perks?” I ask, nodding to the bike.

He’s wearing another pair of black jeans that fit him perfectly and a black t-shirt under his cut. Wolfe doesn’t answer me; he just settles in, so I try to coax him again.

“You lost?” I ask, trying my best to appear cool and collected. I’m clearly not cool or collected any more than he is lost. In fact, Wolfe looks completely at home in my driveway. I stand frozen as he unfolds his arms, and I wonder why he’s insisting on being here right now.

“I told you to answer me,” he says, sounding irritated. His eyes bore into mine. “Good thing I’m early. You clearly were just about to leave alone.”

I shrug. “You didn’t call, you texted, and you’re not my president.”

As soon as the words leave my mouth, I regret them. I don’t know what it is about him that makes me have no filter and put my foot in my mouth like this.

I shrink right into my chucks when he lifts off the bike to his full imposing height and strides closer to me. His jaw is set so hard it looks like he’s about to pop a tendon.

“Do you remember what I told you about that smart mouth?” he asks,

Visions of us together begin to fill my mind. I nod.

“Next time, you will answer me. Now. Let’s go.” His jaw sets again.

“Go?” I ask, unmoving.

“You’re riding with me,” he says.

I look at the bike behind Wolfe then back up at him.

“No, I’m driving my car. After last night, I think I’d like to be able to get away if something else blows up.” I look up at him, now only a few inches from me, and try to figure out the best way to be honest with him. I nervously tap my foot when he says nothing because he just makes me so on edge.

“I’ve never even sat on a bike before, let alone ridden one and I don’t plan on starting today. It just isn’t me. I think we can both admit we’re not each other’s types. What happened last night was a one-time thing. I had too much to drink,” I say in one continuous sentence as bravely as I can.

Wolfe looks down at me, almost in amusement.

“Mm-hmm. You mean, when you begged me to let you come?”

I ignore him. Even his dirty words make me feel all sorts of want I can’t understand, so I just continue.

“You have your lifestyle, and I have mine and mine is not… like yours. I just don’t fit in with—”

Wolfe rolls his eyes and grunts, losing patience with me. “Enough,” he says in a no argument kind of tone. “After last night’s threat, you’re not going to Tybee alone. No one is.” He gives a practical excuse I wasn’t expecting. I open my mouth to speak but nothing comes out.

His eyes drift there in response and I watch his throat work to swallow before his eyes meet mine again. He leans into me; his voice gets lower, and my mouth turns to sand.

“It’s not negotiable and I’m getting tired of you not listening to me.” He simply motions his head toward his bike.

“I…” I start to speak but I have no words. I can’t believe he gets away with speaking to women like this. I look at the road, then back at him, pushing myself to be bolder than I was yesterday. He isn’t going to hurt me in the middle of my quiet family orientated street.

“I’m not going to just let you command me, I don’t like it.”

“Then don’t fight me,” he says like it’s a no brainer, sensing my obvious hesitation to go with him. Wolfe puts his hands on each of my shoulders and leans down over my lips, momentarily stunning me into submission.

“Get on the fucking bike, Brinley.” This tone is lower and more commanding than his usual velvety one. As soon as he uses it, I know my fight is over because despite all of my internal protests, the way he orders me around, in that deep octave, sinks beneath my skin as if its only destination is my core. He doesn’t wait for me to answer him, he simply slides his hands down my arms and turns and walks away, like he has no doubt I’ll follow.

And, of course, I do.

One arm reaches out to me as I approach, taking my small bag from me, securing it with his on the wide bike. Wolfe turns, analyzing me. The only thing I can do is stand nervously and let him. I fold my hands in front of me.

He looks down and notices, then surprises me by reaching out a hand to separate them as his brows knot. Looking back up to my face, his hand reaches around to the back of my head and he pulls the claw clip I have out of my hair. His eyes stay on mine as all my hair tumbles down around my shoulders, but I don’t move, taking in the way he looks at me, almost like he’s angry as he stares down at me. Something as simple as pulling out my hair clip and I’m pooling in my panties for this man. Wolfe lifts a smaller black helmet up and sets it on my head, clipping it in place under my chin, tightening the strap with his big fingers until it’s a perfect fit. Then he adds the matching jacket off the back of his bag. I shrug it off as he tries to place it on my shoulders.

“How many women have you lent these to?” I ask, wrinkling my nose. I can tell I’m pushing him because the sound he makes in response is like a type of frustrated growl.

“Little brat,” Wolfe says as he pulls the jacket back down around me firmly, forcing me to put it on. In truth, it’s light and so soft and fits me perfectly as he zips it up. “This is a day of firsts for both of us,” he says, looking down at me all dressed in his leather.

“Oh?” I ask

“You’ve never been on a bike, which was obvious before you told me,” he says curtly. “And no woman has been on mine—ever.”

My mouth falls open as he climbs onto his bike and directs me to my place where I’ll sit behind him.

“Keep your feet here.” He points to the foot pegs. I struggle to straddle it but manage.

“Assume everything is hot,” he says over his shoulder as I settle on the bike, taking my place behind him. God, he smells so good. Leather, spice, and that hint of smoke from the clubhouse.

Fight it, Brinley runs through my mind but my body isn’t listening.

Traitor.

I make an awkward little dance of trying to place my hands on his shoulders then his side, but Wolfe isn’t having it.

“You hold me here,” he says, securely wrapping my arms around his waist, giving my hands a squeeze when he’s happy with where they rest against him. I’m helpless to fight him as he reaches down and grips both my thighs, pulling me forward until I’m snug against his back.

“Don’t let go, little bird,” he says low over his shoulder.

The roar of the bike coming to life between my thighs sends a kind of rush I’ve never felt in my life through my blood.

As Wolfe backs out of my driveway and onto my street, I see Sean with Layla, Jake, and Kai on bikes of their own. Kai waves with a big goofy grin on his face. I wave back, he’s the happiest one in the group but the brutal way he fucked his fingers into that woman last night without shame tells me he’s still one of them. I make eye contact with the bride next. I might kill her for not warning me I would be getting an escort to her wedding.

Wolfe takes his place, front and center and leads the rest of the pack behind him. It only takes ten minutes to get through town. When we hit the outskirts of Harmony and Wolfe’s speed picks up with the open highway before us, I grip him so tightly I must be cutting his circulation off, but if I am he doesn’t seem to mind. I lean my head on his back as we reach a travelling speed.

The wind whips my hair, the only scent I breathe is him and his bike and I smile wide. I anticipated hating this, but I’ve never felt so free.

Our drive passes fairly quickly; we ride through another small village on the way to Tybee. People around these parts seem used to seeing HOH riding through, so no one pays us any mind aside from a few cautious glances as we cruise through the small Georgia town, passing pecan stands and farms on our way. We only stop once at the town’s main light but when Wolfe slides his hand back and rubs the side of my thigh it feels almost as if he’s checking in on me. The way his large, chiseled hand looks on my leg doesn’t help to keep my panties dry with my arms wrapped around his thick torso.

There’s something so sure and confident about Wolfe, it trickles down to everything he does, even the steadiness with which he rides. Like he never has a single thought of self doubt run through his mind. It’s such a different feeling from any man I’ve ever been around. I know he has no qualms about violence. I know he has to be ruthless to run this club. But right now it’s so conflicting because I can’t help but feel safe with this man that I shouldn’t. At this moment the only things I feel are protected and thought of.

When we reach the resort, I’m stupefied. It’s absolutely stunning in person. The sun is bright, like the whole sky has opened up above us. The ocean sparkles in the background of the sprawling white estate. It sits on acres of secluded wooded property with multiple docks that stretch from the main building to the ocean. One enormous main building, that appears to be made mostly of windows, gives way to so many little cottages behind it that sit at the base of the ocean. There’s nothing else around for what feels like miles.

I climb off his bike and remove my helmet, taking it all in. The air smells salty and fresh. My hair moves around my face in the ocean breeze as the sun sits over the water. The roar of the waves seems like the only sound.

“Breathtaking,” I mutter, absorbing it all.

Before I see him, I feel him, smell him.

“Mm-hmm,” Wolfe murmurs, coming up behind me.

I look up and he’s looking down at me.

“You liked all that power between your thighs,” he assesses, looking from me out to the water as some of the other guys start to close in on us.

I can’t help myself. My mouth turns up into the slightest grin, but I keep my eyes focused on the ocean, so I don’t give him too much satisfaction.

“It wasn’t terrible.” I shrug.

Wolfe leans down so only I can hear him. “Fuck yeah, you look damn good in leather, hummingbird.”

“Ready, boss?” Robby asks.

Wolfe looks at him and points to the other guys then leans down over my ear. “You feel a little less like a good girl now, yeah?” he notes, not leaving me room to answer as he turns, then looks back at me over his shoulder.

I watch him go, a little breathless and a lot turned on from just the deep rumble of his voice in my ear. I’m not alone for more than a few seconds before Layla comes bounding up, fresh off the back of Sean’s bike. Her jacket is different. It’s got the club insignia on it and says Property of Ax on the back.

“How was that for not your type?” Layla grins

“You could’ve given me some warning he was coming,” I say to her. “Happy wedding night, by the way, PB.” I hug her, she smells like the same perfume she’s always worn but today it’s mixed with leather.

Layla 2.0.

“If I would’ve warned you, you would’ve backed out and hid in the closet while he rang your doorbell. It’s been years but I still know you inside and out, Brin, and I wanted you here.”

“Hide in my closet? Says you,” I grunt, kicking at a weed with the toe of my shoe.

“Yeah, says me,” Layla replies. A slow grin creeps across her face. “So, did you hate it?” she asks.

I look in the direction Wolfe went and breathe out a sigh watching as he speaks to his men.

“Oddly, no,” I say.

“I think he likes you,” Layla observes as she glances back out at the water.

“He doesn’t like, remember? That’s what you all told me.”

“True, but I’ve never seen a woman on the back of his bike,” Layla says.

“So he told me,” I add quickly.

“Like I said, science experiment.” Layla laughs as an SUV pulls in and parks near us, blaring Joan Jett.

Chantel, Amber, Maria, and one other woman pile out. They carry beauty boxes, hair styling tools, and garment bags.

Layla’s wedding day mobile beauty salon has clearly arrived.

Layla locks arms with me to start moving in their direction.

“Hmm,” she muses. “Something just occurred to me.”

“What?” I ask, just waiting for it. I know it will be cocky, that’s how Lay operates.

“You could’ve come up with the girls, but yet he made sure you came with him, so the plot thickens”

I scoff. “Whatever, like I said, he’s just not my type at all.”

“How many times have you told yourself that?” She giggles. “Enough to believe it yet?”