Temperance: Biker Romance (The Davis Chapter Book 2) by Davida Lynn Page B

life?”

    “Because,” the smile disappeared from Kyle’s face, replaced with the hardest look I'd ever seen, “Because there's a good chance some of these men won't be around to celebrate tomorrow.”

As Bandit—the name was starting to grow on me—had promised, the boys were stone sober at sundown. Many had gone home before the evening began. When they returned, it was like a different group of men. They were dressed in black, some with black bandanas adorned with skulls. I knew bikers loved their skull imagery, but it felt like a bad omen to me.

    They came packing heat, too. Kyle’s father ran a gun shop, so I expected weapons on him, but some of the others had some serious firepower, too. Every second that passed, I grew more nervous. I kept my hands in my pockets because I wanted to Rising Sons to feel confident in me, since I was inexplicably leading the charge.  

    Bandit dropped into a stool beside me. Reaching over the bar, he grabbed a glass and a shot of Four Roses. As he poured, he leaned in, “Something for the nerves.” He knew bourbon was my drink of choice, and he also knew I’d never pour one for myself.

    I managed a smile. “If you’re gonna pour me something, make it a real drink.” I stood on the rail and reached for the Elmer T. Lee.  

    Bandit rolled his eyes. “This shit ain’t free, Celeste.”

    As I pulled back, I brought a second shot glass back with me. That calm was washing over me even before the warmth of the bourbon could. It was tinged with sadness, though. I poured two shots of the beautiful amber liquid. Bandit didn’t need to be told. He grabbed the one close to him and held it up.

    I did the same. “To old beginnings.”

    Bandit smiled. “Old beginnings.”

    We threw the drinks back and slammed the shot glasses back down on the bar. I closed my eyes and felt the bourbon sear its way down my throat. It was a lovely burn, reminding me that I was alive. Reminding me that I was young and alive. When I opened my eyes and looked to Bandit, he seemed to read me. If we were going to die tonight, we were going to live first. The biker lifestyle was making more and more sense to me.

    I don’t think Bandit and I were outside the bar ten seconds before our hands were all over each other. The bourbon had been just the thing that the two of us needed. It wasn’t the alcohol, though. It was the intimacy and the understanding that we were both in danger one way or the other. We had to stay and fight, or we’d run forever. In my heart, I knew that I would rather die with Bandit than live beside him on the run, never able to feel comfortable.

    His lips felt amazing on my neck. I was backed up against the wall at the back of the building, one of his strong hands holding my wrists above my head. Bandit’s other hand wrestled with my jeans. As he fought to get between my legs, I cursed myself for not wearing a skirt or dress for just such an occasion. I wanted him to slip inside without anything getting in his way. The jeans were for the raid, but I could’ve brought them to change into beforehand.  

    It didn’t matter to Bandit. He opened them up with one hand, and then his hand slid down to my heat. I let out a gasp as his fingers slip between my wet folds. My knees went weak at the display of masculine power, but his strength held me up by my wrists without any problem at all. I closed my eyes and drank in the feeling of his fingers making their way down to my entrance. A soft moan escaped my lips. Once again, nowhere near a bed, I thought. Bandit could contain himself long enough to get somewhere private. I was just as guilty…

    My hands struggled against Bandit. I knew he loved feeling me trying to get away from him. It would make him feel even more like the big, beefy man that he was when I couldn’t escape his grasp. My heart pounded, and when his lips bit my shoulder, I threw my head to one side. I saw the backdoor to the club right there, and I knew we could be