Read Online Death Lords Motorcycle Club: Chelsea and Wrecker (The Motorcycle Clubs Series) by Ella Goode - Free Book Online

us. The thought of going to a party, holding Grant’s hand, and being called his girlfriend is too thrilling to resist.
    “What time?” I ask. Grant gives me a side eye. You can’t be serious, his gaze telegraphs. I give him a wide eyed smile in return. He shakes his head and rolls his eyes.
    “Um, now, if you want. You can walk with us.”
    Grant rises from the table and grabs the four bottles that are left and in a low whisper, “You may want to cover up.”
    I look down and sure enough my chest is still wet. In the firelight, maybe no one will notice. I slip inside the tent and pull on my bikini top and slide a red tank over the top. Grant’ll keep me warm if it gets too chilly tonight.
    I step out and Grant gestures for Becca to lead the way.
    “We’ve got beer,” she says.
    “My girl drinks what I provide,” he says flatly. No booze, no weed, no drugs from people we don’t know. That’s the rule Judge pounded into us.
    Becca raises an eyebrow and shrugs. “Your funeral.”
    We walk on the road which is wide enough for the four of us but Becca pulls me ahead. “Your boyfriend always this fierce?”
    I laugh. “Yup.”
    “That doesn’t bother you?”
    “Nope. He’s watching out for me—aren’t you, babe?”
    He winks. “I’m always watching you.”
    Becca’s mouth turns down at one corner. “I’m guessing you guys aren’t into the swap scene then.”
    I choke a little. “No. Is it that kind of party?”
    I drop back and Grant lays an arm around my shoulders, a gesture that Becca doesn’t miss.
    “It’s a lot of young people and a lot of alcohol and goodies. Stuff happens.”
    “Truth is, Becca, I’m a lot more jealous than my boyfriend so spread the word—he’s taken.” I share a wicked grin with Grant. I can tell he likes my possessive words.
    When we get to the party, it’s already full of boozy people.
    “Reminds me of the club,” he whispers as we stand at the entrance of a ring of tents surrounding a big campfire. The group camp fits probably twenty tents but there’s no direct car access. These folks had to haul everything here.
    He’s right. There are people drunk, blissed out, and already having sex and the moon has only started to make its trek above the horizon.
    A guy next to Grant takes in his cut. “Wicked…tattoos, bro.”
    Grant fingers the edge of the leather. “Thanks. It’s a family design.”
    We share a smirk. The guy offers Grant a hit off a small, hand-rolled joint. Grant shakes his head. He leads me over to a recently abandoned log and pushes me down. I open my legs and as if we’ve done this a thousand times, he settles in between them. Two twists of his wrist and our beers are open.
    “I invited Danilo to the homecoming party,” I share in between sips.
    Grant laughs. “Wanted to see some fireworks, did you?”
    “Not necessarily. Those two must love each other because no matter how many times they break up, they get back together.”
    “What if he wants some strange at the party?”
    “Ugh, I hate that term.”
    “What term?” Becca asks, settling in beside me with a red Solo cup. Her man with the dreads is over at a keg filling his own cup. A girl with long black hair, ripped jeans and a black bikini top has her hand on his ass. Becca doesn’t seem particularly concerned.
    “‘Strange’ to refer to other girls,” I say.
    “Yeah, it’s an ugly term.”
    “How so?” Grant asks.
    “Because it’s like you are tired of the familiar and want something different.”
    “Don’t you worry, sweetness, I’m not tired of you,” Grant growls and reaches up to pull me down for a quick kiss.
    “You guys are sweet.” Becca sighs. “You been together long?”
    I open my mouth to say no but Grant beats me. “Since she was seventeen. I had to wait until she wasn’t jailbait.”
    For that he deserves a light punch in the arm. “Sixteen is the age of consent, grandpa.”
    “I thought he was your brother, not your grandpa,” drawls a new