“It was just a dream, honey.”
She nodded. “Yeah.”
He grinned, rubbing his jaw. “You got a wicked left hook, though.”
Her eyes got wide. “Did I hit you? Oh, God. I’m sorry.”
He stood up to leave. “Go back to sleep.”
Her hand came up and grabbed his forearm. “Wait. Don’t go. Please.”
He frowned down at her, feeling the soft touch of her hand on his arm.
“Just…sit with me. Please? Just for a little while.”
He stared into her eyes, and then he let his gaze move down over her. She was wearing a pearl-grey satin camisole with lace trim and matching short bottoms. “All right,” the word came out of his mouth involuntarily. “Scoot over.” And even as he moved to lean against the headboard next to her, he wondered why he was putting himself through this torture. Lifting his arm, he wrapped it around her shoulders, tucking her against his bare chest, his hand rubbing up and down her upper arm.
After a moment, she relaxed into him, her head resting on his chest. “I know it’s silly, but I just don’t want to be alone.”
“You’re not. I’m here, Princess.” He found his hand suddenly stroking the silky softness of her hair.
“Talk to me,” she whispered.
“What do you want to talk about?”
“Anything. It doesn’t matter. I just like the sound of your voice.”
“Really?” He frowned, tilting his head down to look at her. Her head lifted off his chest to meet his eyes.
“I know it sounds silly, but your voice calms me.”
“Does it, now?” He grinned down at her. “And here I thought every word out of my mouth pissed you off.”
She smiled and lay her head back down on his chest. “Tell me a story.”
His chest shook with his laughter. “A bedtime story? Aren’t you a little old for that?” She slid her arm around his bare abs, and his hand came up to caress her forearm as it lay on him.
“Please.”
He huffed out a breath, smiling and gave in. “Once upon a time, there was a beautiful princess who drove a silver Mercedes…”
She let out a soft tinkle of laughter.
His fingers trailed up and down her arm, stroking. “She had long blonde hair like that of an angel, big blue gorgeous eyes, great fucking legs that went on forever, tits that could make a man sit up and beg, and an ass just made for-”
“Crash!” She slugged his gut.
“Umph…” his body curled forward with her punch. “Damn, baby. Give a guy some warning next time.” He rubbed his hand over his abs. “Anyway, this beautiful princess was very upset because she didn’t know how to use a coffeemaker or a washing machine.”
“How tragic,” she commented sarcastically.
“Oh, it was.” Shannon pinched his stomach, and he jerked. “Oww, babe!”
“I want a nice story.”
“It is a nice story, if you’d let me tell it.”
She settled back down. “Go on.”
“One day a handsome prince rode in…”
“Handsome, huh?”
“Very handsome. He was renowned far and wide for the huge size of his-” She pinched his nipple this time. “Damn, girl! What the hell?” He rubbed his palm over his chest. “I’ll remember that, Princess.”
“The story?”
“One day the handsome prince rode in on a…”
“White steed?”
“Harley Davidson Dyna Super Glide Custom.”
She giggled. “Really? And is there a seat for the princess on this magnificent machine or does the prince make her ride the fender?”
“Who’s tellin’ this story, me or you?”
“Continue.”
“So the prince rode up on his awesome ride and taught the princess all about coffeemakers, and washing machines, and blowjobs-” This time Crash was quick enough to block her knee before it came up and connected. He laughed. “Okay. Story time’s over.”
“Stay with me, just until I fall asleep. Please.” She lifted up to look at him.
He hesitated, but the fragile look in her eyes pulled at him. Pulling her head gently back down to his chest, he reached over and switched the lamp off. His palm stroked over Shannon’s back. “Go to sleep, Princess. It’s late.” She settled on him, her arm tightening around his gut. Crash continued to stroke her back, until finally she drifted off to sleep.
CHAPTER SEVEN
The next morning Shannon awoke alone in bed. She stretched and then snuggled back into the covers, closing her eyes. They popped back open when she heard a rhythmic grunting sound. Rolling over she peered through the chains. Surely to God Crash wasn’t out there having sex with some biker bimbo, was he? She saw some movement on the far end of the loft, but couldn’t really see.
Sliding from the bed, she slipped the matching short silk, kimono-style robe on that she’d purchased at the mall and moved out into the main area.
Dear Lord.
Her heart almost stopped. There on the chin-up bar in the far corner opposite the pool table, was Crash, doing pull-ups. And he’d been at it a while, judging from the sheen of sweat that covered his bare chest. His muscles flexed and bulged as he pulled himself up, and then lowered himself slowly down. She moved closer. His back was to her, so he hadn’t realized she was there, watching. A few minutes later he dropped to the ground, and his back still toward her, he moved off to the punching bag. She watched as he quickly wrapped tape around his hands. Then he began beating the bag mercilessly.
As minutes passed, all she could do was stand there, mesmerized by the way his beautiful body moved. His perfectly sculpted muscles flexing with the power and force of every punch he pounded into the bag. The sheer brawn and strength as every blow landed. The energy and drive behind every strike. Finally he stopped, grabbing the bag with his wrapped hands to stop its swaying motion. He paused there, his head bent to the bag, his breathing sawing in and out. After a moment, he reached out to grab a towel and turning, began wiping the sweat off his chest, when his eyes lifted, and he stopped short seeing her standing there by the island.
She watched as his eyes swept over her. Crossing her arms in front of her, she broke the silence. “Good morning.”
“Morning.” He continued on to the refrigerator and grabbed out a bottle of water. Closing the door, and turning back to her, he nodded toward the coffee pot. “There’s fresh coffee.”
Thankful for the distraction from the awkwardness of being caught watching him, her eyes moved to the coffeemaker. “Oh, God. Caffeine. Thank you.” She quickly moved toward it and began pouring herself a cup.
A grin pulled on his mouth as he raised the water bottle to his lips and murmured, “Girl after my own heart.”
Holding the cup with two hands, and bringing it to her lips, she looked at him over the rim. When she pulled the cup down, he was still watching her. “Um. It’s good.”
“Yeah, well, I figured if I wanted a decent cup of coffee, I’d have to make it myself,” he teased. Setting down the water, he began unwrapping his hands.
Shannon frowned, nodding toward his hands. “I thought your hand was injured. Last night it looked swollen.”
He finished unwrapping it, and then held it up, flexing it. “It’s better today.”
Her eyes drifted from his large hand to his muscular forearm and up to his bulging biceps. “I see.” She realized he’d dropped his hand and was now staring at her with a half grin. It was obvious, he’d caught her eyes roving over him. He picked up the edge of the towel he’d tossed over one shoulder and wiped his face with a corner of it.
“You hungry?”
Her eyes couldn’t help but trail down his abs to below his belly button where the line of hair disappeared into his low-slung sweatpants. Swallowing, she looked away. “A little.”
He grinned. “Talkin’ about breakfast, sweet thing, but if you’re hungry for something else…”
“No, breakfast would be good,
” she quickly replied.
“Right. We’ll go get something. Let me take a shower first.” He headed toward the bathroom. Her eyes followed him, admiring the back view. Shaking herself, she hurried toward the bedroom to get herself ready.
Rummaging through her things, she pulled out a folded pair of black, low-waist trousers with a slim leg and paired it with a white button-down shirt with French cuffs in a slinky knit fabric. She’d purchased it, knowing it would pack well with minimum wrinkles. She added a chunky silver necklace and cuff bracelet that she’d seen on the mannequin with the outfit. She’d actually walked around the store with the sales clerk, pointing at outfits on mannequins that she’d liked, saying, I’ll take that and that and that. It was good being a valued, regular customer. She’d even gotten the sales woman to pack them in the rollaway bag she’d purchased.
Shannon slipped on her only other pair of shoes, a high-heeled black pump. As she ran a brush through her hair, she heard the shower turn off. Most of her things were in the bathroom with Crash, so she just had to wait until he got out to put on her makeup and finish getting ready.
The door opened a moment later, and Crash walked out amid a billow of steam. Again, he was just in the towel wrapped around his hips. Stepping into the bedroom, his eyes lifted, and then dropped as they roved her body, taking in her outfit. “Babe, don’t you have any jeans?”
“No, why? What’s wrong with this?” He shook his head and moved past her to the dresser. He pulled out a pair of jeans and a tee. She quickly averted her head as the towel dropped to the floor. Well, at least it hadn’t hit her in the face this time.
“Are those the only shoes you got?”
She glanced over her shoulder just as he was sliding his 501s up over his beautiful ass. She quickly averted her eyes and replied over her shoulder, “My beige heels, but they don’t go. Can I look now?”
“Yeah.”
She spun around and was confronted with a bare chested Crash who was fastening up his pants. He had a shit-eating grin on his face. “Darlin’, you coulda looked before. I ain’t shy.”
“Apparently not.”
His eyebrows rose as he gestured again to her outfit. “You do know you’re on the back of my bike, right?”
She lifted her arms out to her side and then let them drop. “Well this will have to do, because I don’t have anything else. I thought I was staying in a motel or with Cole and Angel. I didn’t know I’d be staying in the Batcave with you, so I guess I didn’t pack correctly. Besides, I was in a dress the other day, and you didn’t seem to care.”
He pulled a shirt over his head. “Whatever. Let’s go.”
“I’m not ready yet,” she practically whined, staring at him like he was crazy.
“What do you mean you’re not ready? You look ready to me.” He glanced over at her as he began shoving his money clip, keys and cell phone from the top of the dresser into his pockets.
“I haven’t done my hair or my makeup.”
“You look fine.”
“Crash, if you think for one minute that I’m going out looking like this-”
“Jesus H. Christ,” he growled, cutting her off. “Be quick about it or I’m leaving your ass here.”
She mimicked him in a sing-song voice, “I’m leaving your ass here. You are so effing bossy.”
His brow shot up, and he took a step toward her. “And you are so effing lucky that f-bomb didn’t just come out of your mouth.” He took another step toward her.
She took off running to the bathroom, slamming the door.
“Yeah, you better run,” he grumbled through the door as he headed to the kitchen.
“I heard that,” she yelled from behind the door.
“Women!” he muttered.
Two hours later, yes, two hours, Crash sat in a booth at a restaurant staring at Shannon. Having missed breakfast, they were ordering lunch. At least, Crash had ordered, he wasn’t sure what the hell Shannon was doing.
“I’d like the Caesar Salad please, but instead of romaine lettuce, I’d like fresh spinach. And I don’t want any egg on it. I’d like the dressing on the side and extra parmesan cheese. It is freshly grated, right?”
The waitress stood there with her pen poised over the pad, a confused look on her face. “Huh?”
Crash snatched the menu out of Shannon’s hand, passed it to the waitress and said, “Just bring her the Caesar Salad.”
Relieved, the waitress grabbed the menu and hurried away.
“Crash! Why did you do that? Now I’m not going to get what I want.”
“God forbid that’d ever happen.”
“What is wrong with you?”
“Christ, woman, nothing with you is easy, is it?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means I’d hate to be behind you in the drive-thru line. It means, Princess; does everything have to be difficult with you?”
“I’m not being difficult.”
“Clue in, Shannon. Special orders do upset us. I’ve got no patience for this crap.”
“They’re here to serve me, the customer. I should get what I want.”
“She’s gonna bring you the salad. The way they make it. And you’re gonna eat it. Like it is.”
“What? Why?” she asked confused and a little pissed off. “What’s wrong with asking for it the way I want it?”
A grin pulled at his mouth. “Princess, the only place that might work with me, is in the bedroom.”
She sat back, stunned by his comment and looking a little uncomfortable. Crash’s grin widened. Keeping her off-balance seemed to be a good strategy with her. He watched her fold her arms and huff out a breath, staring out the window. His eyes followed hers as he picked up his coffee and took a sip.
They were in a chain restaurant attached to a mall. There was a large parking garage outside with two levels. He’d noticed she’s been nervous as a cat when he’d pulled the bike into the lower level. He knew some people freaked out about parking garages, something about it falling on them or some shit. He’d never have taken Shannon for one of them.
Their food was delivered. Crash watched as Shannon pushed all the egg to the side and grudgingly ate it. He hid his smile and ate his burger.
When they were finished, he paid the check and walked her out to the bike. As they approached it, a white panel van pulled into the spot next to where he’d parked. Suddenly Shannon was backing up, staring at it. Crash turned to her, a puzzled look on his face. “Babe?”
The look on her face shocked him. She looked terrified. Thoughts of her stalker-ex ran through his mind as his gaze returned to the van. The driver’s side door opened on the opposite side of the vehicle. Crash clamped a hand on Shannon’s upper arm and yanked her to his side. She was trembling all over. What the fuck?
He was ready to shove her behind him and pull his gun, when an elderly oriental man rounded the back and headed toward the mall, his gate stooped and shuffling.
Crash looked down at Shannon. She was still shaking. “Darlin’, you okay?”
She grabbed onto his arm, and her breath sawed in and out of her.
Crash took her upper arms in both of his and bent his head to her, looking into her face. “Shannon, what is it?”
She stood there, shaking. His eyes dropped to her throat, where he could see her pulse beating wildly. She was having a full-blown panic attack. Pulling her into his arms, he held her tight, his hand running up and down her back. “Calm down, sweetheart. I’m here. No one is going to hurt you.”
They stood there for several long minutes. She was burrowed up against him like she couldn’t get close enough. He just continued to hold her, whispering comfortingly to her. “Baby, you’re okay. Slow your breathing.”
His voice seemed to penetrate, and she drew in a deep shuddering breath. A moment later, she stepped away practically shoving his arms from her. “I’m fine now.”
There was a bite to her voice. Crash looked at her, frowning. “You’re sur
e?”
She nodded and snapped, “Yes, damn it. Let’s just go.”
He studied her, wanting to question her about what just happened, but he could see her need to get out of there. “Okay, Princess. Come on.” He pulled her to the bike. Handing her helmet to her, he strapped his own on. Throwing his leg over, he lifted the bike off its kickstand and fired it up. She climbed on, clutching him tightly. He backed the bike out and got them the hell out of there.
When they got back to his place, Crash rolled the bike into the lower level, and she immediately scrambled off the back. He cut the engine and got off, studying her as he ripped his helmet off and hung it on the handlebar. She pulled hers off, and he took it from her. “You want to tell me what that was about back there?”
“Nothing, Crash. Just drop it, please.” She spun and headed toward the elevator.
He followed her on, slamming the gate and hitting the lever. They ascended toward the second floor. He studied her as they rode up. Then suddenly he threw the lever, stopping them between floors. They were going to have this conversation, and she wasn’t going to run away from it. Trapped in the freight elevator, she had nowhere to run.
Her wide eyes flew to him. “What are you doing?”
“What the hell was that back there, Shannon? You had a full-blown panic attack, and don’t tell me, nothing.”
Her arms came up, her hands rubbing her upper arms. “I’m fine.”
“What happened?”
“Nothing,” she snapped.
“Did you think that was him?” he pressed.
She frowned. “What? No. Crash, just drop it!”
Oh, he had no intention of dropping it. “Then what freaked you, babe? You were shaking like a leaf.”
“I just don’t like parking garages, I guess. I don’t really know what made me react like that. Now, can you just drop it, goddamn it?”
He stared at her. It was more than the parking garage. Yes, he’d picked up that she didn’t like parking garages, but she was dealing with it when they’d walked out. She was ok—until she’d seen that van. He was also picking up that every time she was afraid or cornered, the bitch in her came out. It was her defense mechanism, the wall she threw up to protect herself. Those walls had to go. He was going to have to work on tearing them down. “Shannon--”
CRASH: An Evil Dead MC Story (The Outlaw Series) Page 9