Trapped in His Arms: Wicked Angels MC, #2

By Heather West

Trapped in His Arms is book 2 of the Wicked Angels MC trilogy. Book 3, Trapped by His Vow, is available everywhere now!

IT'S TOO LATE FOR HER TO RUN.

I swore off women when my wife died.
I put my old life in cold storage and escaped to the mountains.

Up there, I could keep my demons locked away.

But then Amanda wandered somewhere she didn't belong…
Right into my arms.

Now, we're snowed in.
Just me, her…
And the darkness inside me that's threatening to devour us both.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Sopris Page Press
• Release date: Jan 28, 2019
• ISBN: 9781386115878

Book preview

Trapped in His Arms: A Motorcycle Club Romance (The Wicked Angels MC Book 2)

By Heather West

IT’S TOO LATE FOR HER TO RUN.

I SWORE OFF WOMEN WHEN my wife died.

I put my old life in cold storage and escaped to the mountains.

Up there, I could keep my demons locked away.

But then Amanda wandered somewhere she didn’t belong...

Right into my arms.

Now, we’re snowed in.

Just me, her...

And the darkness inside me that’s threatening to devour us both.

Chapter 1

Amanda

Iknow I should continue to my parents’ house, but I can’t. I don’t want to leave him.

What the hell is wrong with me? When did I become a fawning fangirl? Maybe right around the time I had a screaming orgasm. Or the second time. Or the third time. I don’t remember. All I know is I’m hooked.

It’s not just the sex. I remind myself of this while we’re tangled up together. He’s asleep, snoring slightly. I’m surfing the sweet spot between asleep and awake, everything hazy and comfortable. My head is on his chest, his heartbeat lulling me back to sleep.

No, screw it all. I ought to get out of bed and roll on. I can’t stay here forever. The feeling of having somewhere else to be is putting a damper on the time we’re together, anyway. It was one thing while the snow was falling, another while waiting for the world to dig out. Now? I’m afraid of overstaying my welcome, no matter how good a cook I happen to be.

Or how good a lay. Was I good? My eyes open, startled by this thought. I was thrilled by Christopher’s prowess, shocked at the number of times he made me climax. I hardly ever did with my ex. Now I’m worried I wasn’t good. All Lucas ever required was my presence in bed. I didn’t need to do anything, didn’t even get the chance to. Jeez, did I screw it up?

I couldn’t have been too bad. He seemed to enjoy himself well enough. I remember the way he grunted and shouted, the way he twitched in my mouth. I get a little wet thinking about it, the sounds that came out of his mouth when I was sucking him. I must have done something right.

Then he’d been weird. He’d been so weird. I’d asked the wrong question. I could kick myself now for it. Was that what good sex did to a person? Turn them into a total idiot?

No, damn it. I won’t do this to myself. I had every right to ask. It was a totally innocent question. I did that all the time when I was with Lucas. All the nights I spent in bed, cowering in the dark, wondering what I’d done this time to upset him. I shouldn’t have made that remark, shouldn’t have looked at him that way. I should have known better than to set him off. It’s become a reflex, I guess, blaming myself for another person’s actions.

Besides, it wasn’t as if Christopher kicked me out of the house for it. He didn’t even ask me to go back to the spare bedroom. We spent the night right here, with me in his arms. It was bliss. The best sleep I’ve had in years, and I almost never liked sleeping close to Lucas. I was never comfortable.

I’m wide awake now, thoughts of my miserable past driving sleep far away. I look at Christopher’s body. God, he’s beautiful. An underwear model on a billboard is the first thing that comes to mind, every muscle fully defined. Yet he’s not some preening, prissy boy, obsessed with his looks. There isn’t even a mirror anywhere in this room. He’s a man, truly and fully. Rugged, take charge. His body is the result of hard work, not hard workouts.

That being said, there’s a certain part of him that is not the result of workouts. I glance up at his face, still peaceful in sleep. I still hear his snores. I take the opportunity to get a peek under the sheets, currently around his hips. Damn. The boy is blessed. I remember the way he felt inside me. So big. So thick. It’s all I can do to keep myself from jumping him right this minute.

It’s best to let him sleep. He seems to be happy when he’s asleep, his face falling into much softer lines. Normally, he looks like he’s got a chip on his shoulder, like he’s always waiting for the other shoe to drop. His brow is almost permanently creased in thought. I wonder what happened to make him look that way.

There are demons aplenty in this man’s life. I wish I could help him, just as much as I wish I could stop myself from wanting to help him. It’s not my job. He’s not my responsibility. I don’t have to take care of anybody but myself.

I can’t help the desire, though. Damn it.

Am I falling for him?

It’s like he hears my thoughts, stirring. One eye opens ever so slightly, then closes immediately. So bright.

I giggle. Yeah, that’s usually what happens in the morning.

What time is it? I’m usually up when it’s still dark.

I roll over, checking my phone on the nightstand. It’s after eight o’clock.

Are you serious? I have to go down to let Scout out. I’m surprised he hasn’t been whining at the door yet. I give him room to sit up, drinking in the sight of him, the way every muscle plays beneath his skin like a symphony. I hate myself for even thinking something so corny, but it’s true.

Then he stands, and that magnificent ass is on display. Only for a moment, though, as he pulls on a pair of jeans. He’s so sexy.

You want some breakfast? He looks back, smiling.

Yeah, sure. You want to cook?

I’m not completely clueless. I did eat just fine when you weren’t here.

I decide to leave it there and not challenge him on cooking being girly.

A short time later I join him in the kitchen, my heart in my throat. I found an oversize sweatshirt of his in the closet and decided to wear it instead of my three-day-old sweater.

He looks me up and down, not saying a word before turning back to the stove.

I hope you don’t mind. I just couldn’t bear the idea of putting that same sweater on again.

A moment’s hesitation. No, no, I get it. I don’t mind at all.

Hmm. Are you sure? I can take it off.

He looks back to where I’ve sat at the kitchen table, a grin on his face. You can definitely take it off if you want to. I wouldn’t say no. I scowl, making him laugh before he turns back to the stove. "I was just thinking how