Tray (A Hell's Harlem Novel Book 2) Page 5

  “I am.” I turned toward him when he opened the door all the way. “Does this look okay?”

  He crossed his arms under his chest and rubbed his chin. “I don’t know.” He frowned. “I don’t think he’ll like it.”

  “What?” My eyes widened. “Really?”

  Kian chuckled, coming toward me. “Of course he’ll like it, Zillah. You worry way too much.”

  “You’re an asshole.” I punched him in the stomach.

  His laughter deepened.

  “Why are you helping me? You know Daddy will lose his shit if he finds out I’ve gone on a date. But he’s going to be even more pissed that you helped me.” I frowned. “What’s in it for you?”

  “Can’t I just help my sister out because I want to?” He sat on the edge of his bed.

  “No.” I pointed at him. “Because I know how you work. We’re at your apartment for God’s sake. I couldn’t even have Tray pick me up at home because we were worried Dad or someone else would see. Tell me what’s in this for you.”

  “Fine.” Kian sighed, rubbing a hand over his buzzed head. “I’m helping you because you’re twenty-four and still living at home. I know you won’t stand up for yourself when it comes to our father so I’m doing everything I can to …” He shrugged. “Give you a little push, I guess.”

  “What’s in it for you?” I loved him. I really did. But when it came to helping others, there was always a reason behind it. Sometimes a selfish reason. Sometimes not. In this case, though, I had to wonder what the true reason for Kian helping me actually was.

  “Nothing. Yet.” Kian came up behind me and kissed the top of my head. “I want you happy. That’s it.” For now, went unsaid. “He’s here.”

  My heart jumped to my throat. “How do you know that?”

  Kian showed me his phone.

  “What, are you guys besties now?” I asked, noting the text from Tray. Odd. So damn odd.

  Kian only gave me a grin. “Have fun.”

  I sighed and gave myself one last glance in the mirror before leaving my brother’s apartment.

  Once I made my way outside, I came to a halt.

  Tray leaned against his SUV, puffing on a cigarette. The smoke billowed around him, the scent of spice wafting into my nose. I had never thought smoking was sexy until I met Tray. His smokes didn’t smell like your normal cigarettes. Either way, I would never understand how him smoking could be so damn sexy.

  With a black leather jacket on, he wore a white t-shirt beneath it along with light blue jeans. It was casual but hot as hell.

  He looked lost in thought. Maybe he was regretting asking me out on a date. But when he finally noticed me standing in front of him, and as his eyes darkened even more, I realized then that I was wrong.

  Tray gave one final puff on the smoke before butting it out on the bottom of his shoe.

  I took a step toward him, my body heating the closer I got. An intense air rolled off of him. He was pissed about something.

  Opening the door, he waited.

  I swallowed hard. “Everything okay?”

  He nodded and placed a soft peck on my cheek. “You look beautiful,” he murmured.

  “Thank you. You look …” A breath left me. “Gorgeous.”

  He smirked.

  Sliding onto the passenger seat, I ran my sweaty palms down my thighs.

  Tray closed the door and made his way around to the driver’s side before joining me in the SUV.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked him once he closed the door.

  “Don’t worry about it.” He gave me a small smile. “Tonight’s about you, Zillah. Don’t worry about my shit.”

  “Well, if you want to talk, I’m here.”

  He rubbed his jaw. “I got in a fight with a … friend. It’s been weird the past couple of weeks.”

  “Is this a friend you slept with?”

  Tray gave me a quick glance before putting the vehicle into gear and pulled out of the parking lot at Kian’s place. “We didn’t sleep together.”

  “Oh.” I chewed my bottom lip, trying to think of something else to talk about that would get Tray in a better mood but nothing came to mind.

  Glancing out the window, I waited. I didn’t know where we were going or what we were doing tonight or even why Tray wanted to go on a date with me in the first place. A part of me wondered if it had to do with him wanting to go against my father’s wishes. Even though Tray said that wasn’t the case, I couldn’t help but be curious.

  “Zillah.” Tray cupped my hand resting in my lap.

  “Yeah?” I turned to him, linking our fingers.

  “I’m sorry.” He brought my hand up to his mouth and kissed the back of my knuckles.

  “For what?” I whispered.

  Something flashed behind his eyes. “I’m an asshole.” He looked back out at the road before us. “I know that, and I’m sorry for bringing you into my shit.”

  “We don’t have to talk about what happened. We can talk about …” I thought a moment. “What’s your favorite movie?”

  “I don’t have one, but I love classic horror movies. None of this new-aged shit. Give me the original Evil Dead any day. Although, I do love the remake.”

  My head whipped around. “You love The Evil Dead?”

  “Yeah.” He paused. “Why?”

  “That’s my favorite horror movie. I love the remake, but the original is my jam.” I sighed. “It makes me giddy.”

  “I think I just found my soulmate.” Tray chuckled. “How about Halloween and Friday the 13th?”

  I squealed. “Yes!”

  His laugh deepened. “Woman, you are something else.”

  I giggled. “Baby, I can quote every line in every single Nightmare on Elm Street movie.”

  “Oh, yeah?” Tray raised an eyebrow. “I think we need to have a horror movie weekend.”

  I grinned. “I love that idea.”

  (Tray)

  She was young. Vibrant. Free. And I found her quirks adorable. Like whenever I looked at her, she would chew her bottom lip and her cheeks would redden. Or when I pushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear, a small gasp would leave her full mouth.

  Or just when she looked at me and didn’t think I noticed. But I did. I could feel her checking me out. I found that her looking at me relaxed me. She didn’t see me as Tray the biker but Tray the man. I found I needed it even more than before. I had to tell her I was a biker. I knew that. She probably had it figured out already. If she did, she never said anything about it. But for tonight, I wanted it to just be us. She grew up in the lifestyle just as much as I did, maybe even more so. And she had it harder. Being the daughter of the president wasn’t safe for her. She gave her dad a hard time about keeping her locked away, but I got it. I would do the exact same thing if I were him. Maybe even worse.

  We talked about horror movies for the rest of the drive. I was taking her to a place I hadn’t been to in a few months. My home. I wasn’t sure how she would feel about it, but I needed her in my space. Away from the biker life. Away from other people we knew. I wanted to get to know her. I wanted her to realize that I didn’t ask her out on a date just to piss off her father.

  “Where are we going?” Zillah finally asked as we drove down a gravel road.

  “My home.”

  “Really? I thought we were going to a restaurant or something.”

  I smiled down at her. “I want to cook for you.” I had asked my housekeeper to pick up groceries for me. Knowing Zillah’s family was from South Africa, I did my research and wanted to cook for her.

  “You do? I’ve never had someone cook for me before. I’m usually the one who does it.” She laughed lightly.

  “If it makes you feel better, you can help me but it would be my honor to cook for you.”

  “Oh … okay. Thank you.”

  I squeezed her hand. “Thank me after you’ve tasted my cooking.”

  She laughed, pushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

  O
nce we reached my house, my heart sped up. I had never brought a woman here before. Hell, I had never even brought Catch here. Not by himself anyway. He had only been there with the crew.

  “Wow, Tray.” Zillah sat forward. “This is where you live?”

  “Most of the time, yes.” I lived in the country, away from it all just like Greyson had done for the clubhouse. I didn’t want to have to worry about neighbors being nosy or trying to make small talk. It had been too long since I’d been there, but I didn’t think bringing Zillah back to the clubhouse would have gone over well. I needed time. Catch needed time. And I didn’t want Zillah meeting that part of me yet.

  “This place is beautiful,” she said in awe. “It looks like a cottage.”

  As soon as I put the SUV in park, she was out of it.

  My dick stirred at the compliments she gave my house.

  Cutting the engine, I left the SUV and walked up behind her. “This place was my great uncle’s. He left it to me in his will after I found out he existed.”

  “What do you mean?” she asked, looking up at me.

  “My mom died several years ago, and my father shortly before that.” I clamped my mouth shut, not needing to spill so much detail about my life all at once.

  “I’m sorry that happened to you.” Zillah grabbed my hand and pulled my arm around her shoulders. “My mom left when I was kid. She couldn’t handle being my dad’s old lady anymore. I don’t know what happened to her. I’ve been told that she moved across the country and married some new guy, but I know that’s not the case.”

  “How do you figure?”

  “My mom saw stuff, so the club wouldn’t just let her leave and move on. I’m sure someone killed her. I guess I should be more upset about it, but my dad did a wonderful job at being our parent even though he’s a controlling ass sometimes.”

  I smirked. “He did what he had to when it came to raising two kids on his own.”

  “Yeah.” Zillah turned in my arms, grazing her hands down my chest. “Do you have any?”

  I leaned down toward her, our mouths mere inches apart. “Do I have any what, Zillah?”

  “Kids,” she whispered.

  I kissed her nose. “No.” I brushed my thumb over her bottom lip, trailing it down the length of her jawline. “Do you?”

  Her breath caught in her throat “You know I don’t.”

  I grinned, stepping up against her. “I need to hear you say it.”

  “No, Tray. I don’t have any kids. I don’t have a boyfriend. I’ve never had a man. Or even a woman for that matter.” Her hands gripped my shirt, pulling me even closer against her.

  As soon as our pelvises touched, I pushed her against the side of my SUV. “No one has ever touched this caramel skin?” I reiterated my question by brushing a finger down the length of her arm.

  “No.” She licked her full mouth, leaning back against the SUV. “When was the last time someone touched you?”

  “A couple days before I met you.” I watched the swell of her breasts in the vee of the dress rise and fall.

  “You haven’t been touched since then?” Her hands inched up my torso. “Why not?”

  “Because it wouldn’t be right when I couldn’t stop thinking about you.” I kissed her cheek. “Unless that turns you on. If it’s your thing, I could make it happen. Maybe have someone suck me off while you watch.”

  She whimpered. “I-I don’t think I would like that.”

  “No?” I nipped her jaw. “Why not?”

  “Because I want you for myself.”

  Bingo.

  TRAY WOULDN’T STOP looking at me. I had heard of people sharing partners. I may have been naïve and still lived with my father, but I wasn’t stupid. I also read and spent a lot of time on the internet. Hello, Pornhub. But it wasn’t my thing. I was raised by an extremely possessive man and I think I was lucky enough to get that trait as well. The idea of watching Tray being intimate with someone else in front of me made me want to cut a bitch.

  After my confession that I would want him for myself, he didn’t say anything. He just grabbed my hand, led me into his house, and then we were standing in his large kitchen. It was so big, it looked like it came right out of a designer magazine.

  “Is this the biggest room in the house?” I asked, spinning on the stool by the island in the middle of the kitchen. Yeah. Because he had one of those. An island. Hell, I was lucky to get a spot at the table. But at Tray’s, I had the island and a table. While the outside of the house looked like an old cottage, the inside was completely modern. The appliances and countertops were black. So damn black but shiny. I could see my reflection in the dark granite of the island.

  “You like my kitchen, don’t you?” Tray asked, stirring something in a pan that smelled delicious.

  “I do. I’m obviously the one who spends the most time in our kitchen, but the guys like to get in the way. Or Kian likes to tell me how to make things the right way, but will he cook it himself? No.” I laughed. God, I was nervous. I took a sip from the wine glass Tray had placed in front of me that I hadn’t yet touched, and savored the fruity sweetness sliding down my throat.

  “You don’t need to be nervous.” Tray grinned at me over his shoulder. “We’re not doing anything tonight that you don’t want to do.”

  A breath I didn’t realize I had been holding left me. “Thank you.”

  “Of course.” He turned back to the stove. “Come here.”

  I jumped off the stool and made my way toward him, the scent of whatever he was making hitting me even harder. “Is that …”

  “Cape Malay Curry. Although I’m sure it doesn’t taste the same, but I wanted to make sure it tasted at least a little like what you would have.”

  “You did this?” My heart swelled. “For me?”

  “I did.” He grabbed my hand and pulled me to his side. “I did my research and had my housekeeper buy all of the ingredients I needed that I didn’t already have in stock. It was a challenge, but I made sure to get everything.”

  “I’ve never … I can’t … you …” I stood on tiptoes and kissed his cheek. “Thank you.”

  His eyes twinkled. “Want a taste?”

  “Yes,” I breathed. But it wasn’t the curry I wanted a taste of.

  His nostrils flared, his gaze darkening. “Open, Beauty.” Tray held the spoon up.

  I opened my mouth, letting the curry drip onto my tongue and closed my lips around the spoon. “Oh, my,” I moaned, swallowing the delicious sauce.

  “Fuck,” he breathed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Shit. I …”

  My cheeks burned. “What’s wrong?” I asked, my heart hammering at the sudden mood change in him.

  “Nothing.” He dropped the spoon back in the pan and cupped my shoulders. “Nothing at all.”

  “You’re tense.” I wrapped my arms around his slim waist.

  “I am.” He leaned back, pinched my chin, and tilted my head. “That’s because it’s taking all of my strength not to bend you over right here.”

  “And do what?” I asked before I could stop myself.

  He groaned, stepping away from me, and cupped himself. “Keep asking me questions like that and I’m going to come in my pants before I even get a kiss.”

  “Kiss me now.” I stepped toward him.

  “I can’t.” He lifted his hand, stopping me. “Not yet. We need to eat, and you need to finish your wine. But after …”

  “You’ll kiss me?” My body heated, hoping with everything in me that the kiss would turn into something more as well.

  “I’ll do whatever you want, Zillah.”

  (Tray)

  She was so damn innocent. I couldn’t control myself around her and I wasn’t sure how I felt about it. She was a challenge. I found that I rather enjoyed it.

  While we ate our food in silence, I passed glances at her. I was proud of the fact that she enjoyed me cooking for her. I made a mental note to make her breakfast. If she stayed the night with me, of course. But s
omething told me I would have no argument there.

  “Thank you for this,” Zillah said after she swallowed her last bite of food.

  “You’re welcome.” I gathered the dirty dishes and brought them to the kitchen.

  “Do you need help?” she asked, coming up behind me and opening the dishwasher.

  “Sure.” I rinsed the plates and handed them to her.

  We fell into a quick routine. I rinsed. She put them in the dishwasher. I found that I liked this. I had never spent any amount of time with a woman at my house before. An old friend had only been by but that was when the whole club was there. It hadn’t been often and only happened when I was in the mood to throw a party. But that friend had passed, and the parties were non-existent anymore.

  Zillah suddenly laughed.

  “What’s so funny?” I asked, closing the dishwasher and turning it on.

  “I was just thinking how you would never see my dad or brother or any of the guys help clean up. That’s all. This is nice. You …” Her cheeks reddened. “Are nice.”

  A slow grin spread on my face. “Baby, I’ve been called a lot of shit, but nice is definitely not one of them.”

  “No? Well I think you are.” She closed the distance between us and ran her hand down my chest. “You are to me.”

  I leaned forward, brushing my mouth down the length of her jaw. “That’s because I want to fuck you.”

  “Right. That’s the only reason.” She patted my chest and went to the living room before sitting on the couch.

  I stood there like a fool. Who the hell was this woman?

  “Holy shit.” She shot up from the couch and went to the bookshelf. Her head whipped around, glancing between me and my collection of horror movies. “You have … Holy shit.”

  I chuckled and went to her side. “I have most of the classics. Some you can’t even get anymore. I’m a huge fan of horror movies that never make it to the theater. Either because they’re horrible or they’re too gruesome.”

  “God, I’ve never met someone who likes them like I do but I’m a firm believer that no horror movie is awful. All of them are good in their own way.” She pulled a case off the shelf. “This is totally turning me on right now.”