Read Loving Me, Trusting You for Free Online Page A

than everybody else. In a 'real' MC, you wouldn't be Vice. You wouldn't even be a member. Remember that next time you guys decide to make plans. We should be fighting everything they are and showing people that it goes beyond the bullshit, beyond the jackets and the emblems.” I touch a hand to my chest, and I have no idea where all of this is coming from. Maybe it's just been bottled up inside for so long, I don't know what to do with it anymore? “It's about the wind and the road and the sound of a purring engine. It's about being free and owning yourself, doing what's right for you and nobody else. That's it.”
    And then before anybody can say a thing, before they can see the bit of wetness that's streaming down my face, I turn around and walk away, hips swaying, hair flowing behind me. I feel powerful and weak at the same time, like I'm a perfect conundrum, something to be feared and worshipped both.
    I hit the glass doors of the lobby with both hands and emerge into liquid heat that washes over me like a wave, drenching my body in sweat, plastering my hair to my forehead.
    “Fucking Southern summer shit,” I murmur. I hate the heat. I'll be honest. Growing up in Seville, in Spain, the weather was one of the things that I hated the most. Three hundred days a year it was sunny, bright and hot. At least fifty of those days were akin to living on the sun with soaring temperatures that made the city look like a ghost town. I don't miss it there, and I hate this. I like places that have a definition between the seasons, where you can see fall change to winter, winter to spring, spring to summer. There's a magic to that. Not like this long, oppressive blanket of stifling heat.
    I growl under my breath and dig around in the pockets of my jacket for a smoke, pulling one out and placing it between my lips with trembling hands. The leather comes off next, peeled away from sticky skin and slung over my shoulder as I cross the street without checking either way. This is a one horse town, so to speak, one of those places where everything closes down after five o'clock.
    “Sawyer, wait up.”
    I don't wait. I keep going, ignoring Gaine's voice as I step up on the sidewalk and under the pale blue-white glow of the bar's single sign.
    “Back off, Gaine. I used to think your obsession with me was cute. Now, it's just plain fucking creepy.” I kick open the heavy wooden door with my foot. Probably a little overdramatic, but it feels damn good. Inside, a couple of lazy drunks and a group of young kids stare at me with interest. This place must just worship the antique bike show every year because instead of the hopping joint it was a few weeks back, now it looks like a dive.
    I move over to the bar with Gaine on my heels and toss my coat over a stool before sitting down and ordering yet another beer. I could get to my drunk with something else, but it wouldn't feel right. A good beer buzz is the only thing that sounds good to me right about now.
    I run my fingers over the mangled top of the bar, tracing scratches with my nails and pretending that Gaine didn't slide onto the stool next to mine.
    “You feel any better after that outburst?” he asks, and I glance up at him, lips pursed and eyes narrowed. Here's the thing about Gaine Kelley: no matter how hard I try, how loud I yell, how fierce I get, he never goes away. For years, I've been trying to swat the asshole off like a fly in the hot summer sun and still, he persists. To tell you the truth, I can better understand why Austin doesn't want me than I can understand why Gaine does. I don't know what man would want to take on a woman with the emotional scars I have, to deal with someone who has a temper even she doesn't fully understand. Something is seriously wrong with me, and yet, Gaine acts like I'm a fucking goddess. At first, I thought it was youth and inexperience. Now, I just think he's nuts. Loco hijo de puta.
    “Sure, Gaine. I've had a revelation and am going to become