Read Online Steel My Heart (Motorcycle Club Romance) (Sons of Steel Motorcycle Club Book 1) by Vivian Lux - Free Book Online
Authors: Vivian Lux
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raised his eyebrows and grinned, flashing deep dimples. "Well then I apologize. Your club must be pretty lax if you're allowed out without your colors."
I played along, enjoying myself. "I don't have need a club." I gestured to my cut up T-shirt. "These are my 'colors,' yellow and violet."
He laughed again. "They're kinda bright." He paused and put and appraising finger up to his lips. "But they look good on you." His eyes locked on mine.
I squirmed in my seat, recognizing something in his gaze, but not allowing myself to dwell on it for too long. I had at first thought his eyes were a warm brown, but now that he was close to me, I saw little flecks of hazel in them, tiny shards of emerald, scattered around the iris. His eyes turned up at the corners ever so slightly and the dark black of his lashes cast a shadow along his high cheekbones. The smile faded from his lips as he held my gaze.
"Hey there, Emmy," he murmured, and took my hand into his once more. This time it wasn't a handshake. His strong hands were calloused and rough, workman's hands. I inhaled sharply, tasting his scent on my tongue. It tasted like warm leather worn buttery soft with age.
"Hey," I felt myself breathe.
A sudden chorus of hoots and hollers broke through the moment. "You gonna drink or what?" I heard one of the bikers shout.
I almost jumped out of my chair when a huge, blond, Nordic looking biker came stalking unsteadily towards us, a drunken smile plastered across his reddened face.
"Are you fucking with me?" J. muttered and twisted around in his chair.
The blond biker slung his arm over J.'s embarrassed shoulder and turned to leer at me. "You need a drink in your hand, beautiful. Tonight's a celebration."
"My graduation," J. interjected quickly.
The blond biker blinked and licked his lips. "That's right. This promising young gentleman over here is now a proud graduate. Shall we toast him?"
His formal manner made me giggle, as did his blatant leering at my chest.
"I don't have a drink," I protested.
"We can change that!" he shouted and waved his free arm wildly in the air. J. pinched the bridge of his nose. I laughed again, starting to enjoy myself. "Hey Rosie!" the blond biker shouted. "Three over here!"
J. uncovered his eyes and shot me a mock-bashful look over the palm of his hand. "Emmy, I apologize for my brother over here. Case gets excited easily."
I looked back and forth, hesitant, from J.'s smooth mahogany skin to Case's pale, reddened face. "Bro...ther?" I sputtered, then immediately blushed.
J. just looked amused. "Brothers. M.C. brotherhood."
He leaned forward, ducking out of Case's increasingly unsteady grasp. "You'd know what I meant if you belonged to a club," he teased, fluttering the hem of my T-shirt. "Instead of being a lone wolf like you are."
"Lone wolf, is that what I am?" I sat back on my stool. "I kind of like that."
"Oh Jesus, I'm gonna need more to drink if I have to listen to you two," Case complained. He reached over us to grab the shots that had just been delivered by a plump, middle-aged woman.
"Thanks Rosie, keep 'em comin'." He spun around between our two stools and leaned against the bar for support. "What's your name again, gorgeous?" he blinked at me.
"Emilia. Emmy," I repeated.
He nodded and handed me a shot glass filled to the brim with amber colored liquid. "This shit burns, Emmy" he warned, and raised his glass.
I looked at J., who nodded encouragingly. I brought the glass to my lips and winced.
"It smells like gasoline," I complained.
"Tastes worse too!" Case grinned. "Cheers!"
I was suddenly looking at myself from the outside in. Me, Emilia, the fianceé of Robert Whitestone III, heir to the Whitestone fortune and the toast of Philadelphia high-society, drinking cheap whiskey with bikers. I had to laugh.
Then I knocked back the shot in one swallow, just like my dad taught me.
The bourbon hit
I played along, enjoying myself. "I don't have need a club." I gestured to my cut up T-shirt. "These are my 'colors,' yellow and violet."
He laughed again. "They're kinda bright." He paused and put and appraising finger up to his lips. "But they look good on you." His eyes locked on mine.
I squirmed in my seat, recognizing something in his gaze, but not allowing myself to dwell on it for too long. I had at first thought his eyes were a warm brown, but now that he was close to me, I saw little flecks of hazel in them, tiny shards of emerald, scattered around the iris. His eyes turned up at the corners ever so slightly and the dark black of his lashes cast a shadow along his high cheekbones. The smile faded from his lips as he held my gaze.
"Hey there, Emmy," he murmured, and took my hand into his once more. This time it wasn't a handshake. His strong hands were calloused and rough, workman's hands. I inhaled sharply, tasting his scent on my tongue. It tasted like warm leather worn buttery soft with age.
"Hey," I felt myself breathe.
A sudden chorus of hoots and hollers broke through the moment. "You gonna drink or what?" I heard one of the bikers shout.
I almost jumped out of my chair when a huge, blond, Nordic looking biker came stalking unsteadily towards us, a drunken smile plastered across his reddened face.
"Are you fucking with me?" J. muttered and twisted around in his chair.
The blond biker slung his arm over J.'s embarrassed shoulder and turned to leer at me. "You need a drink in your hand, beautiful. Tonight's a celebration."
"My graduation," J. interjected quickly.
The blond biker blinked and licked his lips. "That's right. This promising young gentleman over here is now a proud graduate. Shall we toast him?"
His formal manner made me giggle, as did his blatant leering at my chest.
"I don't have a drink," I protested.
"We can change that!" he shouted and waved his free arm wildly in the air. J. pinched the bridge of his nose. I laughed again, starting to enjoy myself. "Hey Rosie!" the blond biker shouted. "Three over here!"
J. uncovered his eyes and shot me a mock-bashful look over the palm of his hand. "Emmy, I apologize for my brother over here. Case gets excited easily."
I looked back and forth, hesitant, from J.'s smooth mahogany skin to Case's pale, reddened face. "Bro...ther?" I sputtered, then immediately blushed.
J. just looked amused. "Brothers. M.C. brotherhood."
He leaned forward, ducking out of Case's increasingly unsteady grasp. "You'd know what I meant if you belonged to a club," he teased, fluttering the hem of my T-shirt. "Instead of being a lone wolf like you are."
"Lone wolf, is that what I am?" I sat back on my stool. "I kind of like that."
"Oh Jesus, I'm gonna need more to drink if I have to listen to you two," Case complained. He reached over us to grab the shots that had just been delivered by a plump, middle-aged woman.
"Thanks Rosie, keep 'em comin'." He spun around between our two stools and leaned against the bar for support. "What's your name again, gorgeous?" he blinked at me.
"Emilia. Emmy," I repeated.
He nodded and handed me a shot glass filled to the brim with amber colored liquid. "This shit burns, Emmy" he warned, and raised his glass.
I looked at J., who nodded encouragingly. I brought the glass to my lips and winced.
"It smells like gasoline," I complained.
"Tastes worse too!" Case grinned. "Cheers!"
I was suddenly looking at myself from the outside in. Me, Emilia, the fianceé of Robert Whitestone III, heir to the Whitestone fortune and the toast of Philadelphia high-society, drinking cheap whiskey with bikers. I had to laugh.
Then I knocked back the shot in one swallow, just like my dad taught me.
The bourbon hit
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