Raw Need_A Motorcycle Club Romance_Padre Knights MC
This is a work of fiction. Any names, characters, places, events, and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons—living or dead—is entirely coincidental.
Raw Need: A Motorcycle Club Romance (Padre Knights MC) (Mean Machine Collection Book 1) copyright @ 2017 by Kathryn Thomas and E-Book Publishing World Inc. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embedded in critical articles or reviews.
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Contents
Raw Need: A Motorcycle Club Romance (Padre Knights MC) (Mean Machine Collection Book 1)
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT
CHAPTER TWENTY NINE
CHAPTER THIRTY
CHAPTER THIRTY ONE
CHAPTER THIRTY TWO
CHAPTER THIRTY THREE
CHAPTER THIRTY FOUR
CHAPTER THIRTY FIVE
CHAPTER THIRTY SIX
CHAPTER THIRTY SEVEN
CHAPTER THIRTY EIGHT
CHAPTER THIRTY NINE
CHAPTER FORTY
CHAPTER FORTY ONE
CHAPTER FORTY TWO
CHAPTER FORTY THREE
CHAPTER FORTY FOUR
CHAPTER FORTY FIVE
CHAPTER FORTY SIX
CHAPTER FORTY SEVEN
CHAPTER FORTY EIGHT
CHAPTER FORTY NINE
CHAPTER FIFTY
CHAPTER FIFTY ONE
CHAPTER FIFTY TWO
CHAPTER FIFTY THREE
CHAPTER FIFTY FOUR
CHAPTER FIFTY FIVE
CHAPTER FIFTY SIX
CHAPTER FIFTY SEVEN
CHAPTER FIFTY EIGHT
CHAPTER FIFTY NINE
CHAPTER SIXTY
CHAPTER SIXTY ONE
CHAPTER SIXTY TWO
EPILOGUE
Books by Kathryn Thomas
Rebel’s Property: A Motorcycle Club Romance (Satan’s Martyrs MC) (Claimed by Him Book 5)
Reaper’s Property: A Motorcycle Club Romance (Valley Reapers MC) (Claimed by Him Book 4)
Brute’s Property: A Motorcycle Club Romance (The Blazers MC) (Claimed By Him Book 3)
Bad Boy’s Property: A Motorcycle Club Romance (Lost Disciples MC)
Biker’s Property: A Bad Boy Biker Baby Romance (Chrome Horsemen MC)
Possessive: A Bad Boy Second Chance Motorcycle Club Romance (Sons of Chaos MC)
Tangled with the Fighter: A Bad Boy MMA Fighter Romance
Tangled with the Biker: Bad Devils MC
Pregnant for a Price: Kings of Chaos MC
Bride for a Price: The Misery MC
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Raw Need: A Motorcycle Club Romance (Padre Knights MC) (Mean Machine Collection Book 1)
By Kathryn Thomas
I need him to take me, even if he breaks me.
There’s no fighting that raw need, that pure desire.
But I fell for him, and when he left, it broke me.
He’s back now, ten long years later.
And he won’t rest until I’m his again.
ALI
I knew from the start that he was a bad idea.
There was a little voice inside my head, echoing everything that my parents and my students and my friends and everyone I’d ever known was telling me.
He’ll hurt you.
He’ll break your heart.
He’ll leave you broken and alone.
But there was another voice, too.
Deeper and rougher and far more persuasive.
It was Alejandro’s husky rasp, whispering in my ear…
“You’re mine now.”
And he only had to look in my eyes to see that that’s everything I ever wanted.
He broke me out of my good girl shell and showed me what the world looked like.
What it REALLY looked like.
On the back of his bike, with the wind in my hair and his leather jacket hot from the sun in front of me…
I was free. Really and truly free.
And then it happened – everything they promised would happen.
He hurt me.
He broke me.
And he left me all alone.
ALEJANDRO
I’ve dreamed of her every night for ten years.
None of the endless club girls I’ve had since I left home have compared to the one kiss we shared.
But I had to leave.
I had to become a man.
I’ve done that and then some.
I’m become a man that no one on earth would dare f**k with.
My scars, my tattoos, the outlaw motorcycle club patch on my leather kutte all tell the same story:
I’ve killed before and I’ll do it again if I must.
And death is the reason I’m back in my hometown.
There’s a war simmering on the horizon, one that will threaten to tear everything apart and slaughter everyone I once loved in the crossfire.
Including her.
Ali.
The girl I left behind.
I came back for her most of all.
But she has a life now – a home, a job, a fiancé.
I don’t give a damn.
She’s been mine from the moment I first kissed her.
And I’ll fight this war all by my godd*mn self if it means getting her back in my arms.
I want her.
I need her.
And I’m not gonna stop until I have her again.
CHAPTER ONE
I've been a good girl all my life. For eighteen years I've done what everyone expects of me--Mama, Daddy, my teachers, my friends, my coach. I kept a near-perfect GPA all through high school, even with cheerleading and volunteer work. Tonight I walked across that stage with the road to my future paved and shining, just waiting for me to show up and drive.
But I just had to go off-roading.
Alejandro Rojas has wanted me since ninth grade biology. Cristina, my best friend, is also his cousin. She's been trying to keep me away from him for four years, but I was curious about him. So we've been talking, just a bit, in secret. He's like no one I've ever known. Alejandro is so smart, so talented, so interesting to talk to. He's also tall and gorgeous and just wrong enough to make me feel like I'm doing something bad without really breaking the rules. He got into Magnet with us because he's supposed to be some kind of math genius, and he played football all four years, but Mama would have a fit if I brought him around. He's not really one of us.
> Which suits me just fine tonight.
We made plans to meet up at this party, so I made sure he saw me when he walked in. I pretended not to notice the way he stared, but his eyes burned me up. There are girls here tonight who've wanted a piece of Alejandro all year. There are even some girls here tonight who've had him, but no one's kept him.
I don't want to keep him, either. I don't want a boyfriend, not with my freedom so close I can taste it. In two and a half months and I'll be in College Station meeting hot, smart guys from all over the country. All I want tonight is to keep looking into those velvet eyes and letting him kiss me again. I want him to keep whispering sweet words as he touches me. If he goes too far I'll pretend I want him to stop, but what I really want is to wrap myself around that perfect body and touch him everywhere. I want to drive him crazy and I want to let myself be carried away.
I want to be reckless.
His breath is sweet and his lips on mine are gentle. I didn't expect his kisses to make me feel like my whole body might explode. "Ali," he whispers against my lips, "You're so beautiful." And I feel beautiful in a way I've never felt. I feel raw and powerful, as if I hold the key to some secret in the universe. I fit perfectly in his arms and I know if I ever let him make love to me that would be perfect, too.
But tonight his hands are respectful. Too respectful. I want him to touch me all over, but there's no way to do that without seeming slutty. I can tell that he's hard, but he doesn't pressure me in any way. Although deep down I'm glad of that, part of me wishes he would grab me and make me his. Just for tonight.
Suddenly my back's against the wall and I've got six feet of gorgeous guy pressed against me. Our mouths are fused, our bodies so close I can't tell where I stop and Alejandro starts. There's a whimpering noise in the background, and I realize it's coming from me. He's done this. Right now, with his hands in my hair and his body pinning me to a wall, I feel more alive than I've ever felt.
I feel invincible. Irresistible. Infinite.
If this is what it's like to lose control, I love it.
CHAPTER TWO
Ten years later
It was obvious that Bobby was trying his damnedest not to look worried when Ali dragged herself in from the barn, grimacing at the sharp pain in her hamstring. She stifled a groan as she tugged off her boot and waved him away when he took a step toward her to help. It would be a foolish man who’d touch me like this when he’s dressed like that, she thought, admiring his perfectly pressed shirt as she brushed more dirt off her denim-clad thigh.
His brow furrowed. “Don’t forget, Sugar, we’ve got the thing tonight.”
“Right. The thing. I didn’t forget.” And just how in the hell am I going to wear heels tonight? She took a deep breath and flashed him her brightest smile, hoping to reassure him that she could, in fact, spend the evening teetering on four-inch heels with a pulled muscle. “Sweetheart, don’t you worry about me. I’m just a little sore, but I’ll be dressed and beautiful and on your arm all night even if it kills me.” Which it might. Another twinge ripped through her as she tried to stand, but she bit back a groan and pushed through it, hauling herself to her feet with a smile. She limped into the kitchen and leaned in to offer Bobby a kiss.
“I’ve got no worries about you looking beautiful.” He cupped her head in his hands and gazed at her a moment as if trying to decide whether or not to believe that she was really okay. “I’d like you in one piece, though,” he murmured, brushing his lips softly over hers.
“I’m fine, really. I have no idea what spooked Tip or how I even fell. It’s just a pull—I’ll go soak it and I’ll be good to go this evening.”
“Thank God it’s not serious.” His deep sigh was one she’d heard before, and she didn’t want to have that argument again, not this morning. He pulled back and gave a slightly imperceptible shake of his head. “I just can’t stand the thought of anything happening to you.” His thumb trailed tenderly over her lower lip.
“I know.” And she did know. But if there's one more argument about her continuing as a riding instructor after the wedding, she had half a mind to call the whole damn thing off—no matter how many people were invited to the Dawson estate.
Just the thought of the sheer scope of their wedding caused her more pain than the pulled muscle. Just let me make it through the next seventy-six days, God, that’s all I ask. The once-intimate guest list, which she’d handed to the mothers with demands to only add a few people, had swelled to well over four hundred. Her dreams of a quiet ranch wedding had been hijacked by her mother. With the help of Bobby’s mother, it had turned into a social event of epic proportions.
But no reason to punish him for the mess their mothers had made of their special day. She bit back her displeasure and kissed him again, long and deep.
“If you didn’t smell like a horse, I’d take you right here on this countertop,” he murmured against her mouth.
She swatted him away. “Yeah, right. You’ve only got ten minutes to spare and you’ve never been late a day in your life. Go on,” she scolded, “before I forget myself and get that gorgeous suit of yours dirty.”
He sighed and stole another quick kiss. “To be continued,” he vowed before grabbing his car keys from the counter. “Love you,” he called over his shoulder. “I’ll pick you up at seven.”
“All right,” she returned. “Now get before you make your poor daddy nervous.”
***
Finally, the house to myself. Ali loved Monday mornings. No students, no Bobby, nothing but peace and quiet and her own thoughts. She stripped off her filthy clothes and tossed them in the washing machine before padding to the bathroom, her muscles practically screaming in anticipation of a long soak. Maybe I should cut back on paying students, find someone else to take on the volunteer instruction. I’ll help Karen get the program up and running and that will be it. Six months, tops.
But the thought of stopping instruction with any of her students—paying or not—just didn’t sit right with her. Besides, the volunteering was the best part of her job. Most of the kids had really rough lives and the bond they shared with the animals was restorative. For some, their hour or so with the horses was their only opportunity to be kids. How could she take that away from them? The notion of giving it up—not to mention abandoning the new program, which was her brainchild—was unbearable.
The water spluttered wildly when she turned it on, and she reminded herself to get someone to come and fix it for her. When she’d mentioned calling a plumber, Bobby reminded her that she’d only be in that house a little while longer. The new house was almost completed, and in two months—give or take, you never knew with contractors—she’d be leaving the old farmhouse behind. No sense wasting time or money on a quirky little faucet, he had reasoned, especially not in the guest bath. But it was still her house for now, and she wanted the damned faucet fixed.
Ali groaned as she lowered herself into the hot water, trying to imagine stretching out in the giant tub at the new house with their spectacular mountain view from the master bathroom. As luxurious as it was bound to be, it wouldn’t be the same as soaking in this one. All those nights when her parents had been busy with some charity gala or social function to attend, she’d spent the night here in this old house with Gran. She’d been bathed in this very tub, dried with fluffy towels, and tucked into the little bedroom just next door. The house was more than an inheritance from her grandmother. It was the scene of all the happiest moments of her childhood.
Secretly she hoped construction on the new house would hit some snag and she’d be here until October. Fall was the loveliest season on the ranch, when the light looked so beautiful in the barn. September mornings when she took Tiparillo out on the trail there were times she never wanted to come back home. Ali loved it when there was nobody but the two of them in the filtered light of dawn, Tip’s gentle chuffing the only sound except for the birds.
But Bobby was nothing if not goal-oriented, so she knew it was no us
e daydreaming. Construction would be finished well before the deadline, come hell or high water, and they’d move in. And just a few weeks later— seventy-six days, to be exact—Ali would become Mrs. Robert Dawson, wife of the future governor of Texas.
CHAPTER THREE
Alejandro had been in town less than twenty-four hours. He’d arrived with some of his brothers from the club, the speed limit signs urging them slower and slower until they were practically crawling when they rumbled past the faded sign welcoming them to Arroyo Flats. The flags declaring it an All-America City were new, as Alejandro imagined a lot was since he’d been here last. Ten years was a long time in a small town but not long enough when you’d sworn never to return. Yet here he was, back in the place he vowed would never hold him like it had held every generation of Rojas’ for as long as anyone could imagine.
Now, standing in line at the Valero with a case of beer in his arms, he decided the scenery could hold him a few more minutes, or at least as long as the blonde headed for the front door was in his sights. He gazed appreciatively at the young woman as she walked through the front door, all tanned long legs and attitude. Experience told him she was the type of girl who would turn up her nose at the attention of an outlaw biker unless she was in the mood for slumming, but it didn’t stop him from enjoying her particular brand of well-bred southern beauty. His groin tightened pleasantly as he appraised her. He imagined stripping away the clothing that barely concealed her feminine curves, parting those taut thighs…