Fuck. I pull off my clothes and throw them in the basket the maid keeps in the corner, and I step under the hot running water. I'm hard as a damn rock, and when I grab the soap and lather up my body, it's hard not to hold myself and take care of my needs. I can't lay next to Bree with my dick poking her in the back. But, as soon as a glide soap over my length, I know it won't be long before I am just as hard again with her in my room.
I'd be better off sleeping with a rabid tiger than Bree.
I take my time standing under the deluge, hoping to find some comfort. I don't find any. The only way I'm going to get rid of the annoying burning is by allowing Bree to take care of it.
When I step out of the shower, I towel off my hair, slide on a pair of boxers, and brace myself to open the door. Will Bree be awake? Staring? Turned away from me with her eyes squeezed shut, hoping I'll leave?
I have no idea which until I turn the knob and find Bree sitting on the edge of the bed, facing me.
"You need the bathroom?" I ask, realizing I didn't offer it to her before I barged in. It's the whole guest thing. I don't have many. Hell, I don't have any. But now I have Bree, and I have to think about her needs before I take care of mine.
There is steam spilling out around me, and I didn't dry off except for my hair, so I'm dripping on the floor.
Bree's eyes go wide, and a rush of pink runs into her cheeks and down her neck. She opens her mouth as if to say something, then clamps it shut so loudly I hear her teeth hit.
I'm turned on by this Bree. The one who doesn't talk too much and exudes lust for me. I'm not a pig, I remind myself. She's the one who crawled uninvited into my bed. I have every right to appreciate the view.
"I'm good," she says before shyly turning away from me.
My room is the largest in the club, but even with the extra square footage, there isn't much space. A dresser with a TV I never watch. A side table with a book I've meant to read. A closet half full of the clothes I keep at the club.
And the queen bed.
The bed Bree is swimming in at the moment. Her legs are covered, but the tank top I'm guessing she borrowed from one of the girls barely covers her tits. She's got curves most of the sweet butts would undergo hack job plastic surgery to get, and they fill out the stretched fabric to the brink.
I smile at the thought of her breasts busting free, and her nipples spilling from the fabric. She's got great ones, even if I've only seen the tops of them.
"So," she says over her shoulder, staring at me, bringing my attention back up to her face. "How is this going to work? You sleep on the floor, and I'll give you the covers?"
I laugh. I can feel droplets of water run down my torso from the tightening of my abs. I can also tell, Bree notices too. She's all but licking her bottom lip, and her gaze is glued to me.
I'm used to women looking, and I'm used to their appreciative stares, but I'm not used to being turned on by it. I'm still hard as a fucking rock, and it only takes a quick glance down to see I'm not hiding anything.
I don't even fucking care. I want Bree. In my bed, on my cock, maybe even in my life.
I stop smiling, not sure where that last thought came from. I have the shop and the club and my brothers. Bree will love me for the night, but when she sees the real me, what six years overseas has done to my brain, she'll run like hell.
That's why letting Bree in isn't as dangerous as I first thought. I step up to the bed and lift the covers behind her and slide in. I press my full length into her back, and I drape one arm around her, pulling her into me rock solid.
"This is how it's going to work. I did my time sleeping on floors, and if you're not comfortable in my bed, I'm sure Doc would make some room in his."
Her ass flexes, and she scoots away from me as she tries to pull free. I'm not holding her as tightly as I could, but it's enough to keep her locked into my chest. "Doc hates me, and I'd rather not sleep with either of you."
"That's a lie." I breathe into her hair. She smells of jasmine. My body instantly reacts as hot blood pours into my veins. I know what she means, she doesn't want to sleep with either of us, but I can't resist taking a jab at her. "Doc likes you. He likes you a lot."
Bree finally gives up and settles herself, allowing me to pull her in until I'm seated in the crack of her ass. Damn, she's hot. And wet. Even from the backside, her damp heat penetrates her jean shorts and soaks into my boxers.
"If he likes me so much, then why does he act like I'm not welcome here?"
I smile into her hair. Bree is a smart woman. There is no denying that fact, but she knows nothing about what her body does to men. I'm not giving in to that hard-headed level of sassy that makes a man want to bend her until she almost breaks. "He knows that if anyone in this clubhouse is to claim you, it would be me. That's not something we take lightly here. Men have been killed for less."
Bree's body tightens again, but she's not pulling away this time. "No one here is going to claim me." Her tone is so flat, I'm sure she's forcing herself to sound brave. It doesn't work well on me.
I've been all around the world and known women who would bite my balls off with their bare teeth if I stepped out of line. She's no match for them. But, it's that hidden vulnerability that draws me in closer. It makes me want to peel back the layers and find out why she's here. Why she came looking for me last night.
I run a hand over her auburn hair and trail my fingers down her neck and shoulder until I'm inches from her breast. "Bree," I whisper into her ear. "Why are you still here?"
She wiggles a little in my arms, but not enough to be an honest try at freeing herself. "Because you have my car and won't let me leave."
She takes a deep breath when my fingers skirt over the tops of her breasts, but she doesn't pull away. If anything, she's pressing herself harder into me. My blood is on fire, and I'm breathing hard enough to make my chest burn. Fuck, this woman is about to undo me. "You knew my name. My real name." I graze her ear with my lower lip. "Tell me how?"
She nuzzles into the pillow, but I'm not going to let her have a second of freedom until I get an answer.
"No one has called me Jordan in years. Where did you hear it?"
A gasp of air leaves her mouth like a moan stuck deep in her throat, and she retreats from the pillow and arches her neck into my lips.
She's trying to distract me, but she's taking the wrong approach. I'm sure she's gotten her way before by playing the sweet little virgin in another man's bed, but the way she teases and taunts, Bree knows every single inch of how deeply she's trying to deceive me.
Any other night, I'd give in to it. Ignorant bliss is, in fact, my favorite state of mind these days. I need to know Bree forwards and backward, and any other way she will allow.
"Bree," I whisper into her neck. "I need to know who you are if I'm to keep you safe."
Bree turns her head, and her body follows until she's flat on her back underneath me. "Safe? From what?"
She honestly has no idea by the way her gaze is darting around my face, trying to make sense of my expression.
"When you stepped in last night, you became part of the decades-old land feud with the Northern Devils."
Her eyes go wide. Her chest rises up and presses into mine with a shocked breath. "How? I could have been anyone stopping off at a bar for a drink. You just happened to land on my car."
I smile. It's a tactic to calm Bree even if I do it more from instinct than care for her well being. "You called out my name."
She searches my eyes, and confusion washes over her face. Maybe not telling her and having her worry all night will teach her a lesson, but finding out how she knows me has been burning at the back of my mind all day.
I need to know as much as she doesn't want to tell me.
I push off her and roll to my side, staring into her piercing green eyes. "They would have believed you were just some chick passing through town who ended up in the wrong place at the wrong time, but you called me by name and put me in your car
. That makes you an enemy to anyone who is an enemy to us."
"Fuck," she breathes out, each letter is its own syllable. "What do we do?"
"Keep you hidden here until your car is ready, and you're back on the road. Away from the neighborhood, you'll be forgotten soon enough and no longer a target."
"What if I had planned to stay?"
She's really going to argue with me? I could drop a bomb on her. I could be the scary guy who makes her see reason, that her life is worthless to the devils, and it would take nothing for them to rape her, or worse to get back at me. I could scare her right out of my bed. But, I have a feeling Bree isn't the run and hide kind.
Telling her the truth could backfire and put my brothers and me in danger when she reacts.
No. The less Bree knows, the better. Doc and the guys are in church now, discussing a show of force to send a clear message, Bree isn't to be messed with if it comes to that. I've opted out, knowing she will be long gone from here before anything can happen. I'll make sure of it.
"Bear." Bree's voice pulls me out of the thought. "What if I stay?"
"Why would you want to?"
I drop the back of my hand to her face. It's not my normal move, but the way her cheeks look like they are about to break out in flames soon, I can't help but want to feel their heat.
Her eyes sparkle and I'm not sure if it's the light coming from the cracks in the door frame, or if those are tears. "I came here for a reason."
Dreads pools in my stomach when she looks away from me. I flatten my palm to her skin and turn her back slowly to face me. "What reason is that?"
It is a tear. I know the second it spills down the back of my hand. Damn, I don't do crying women. I can't take seeing Bree in pain. A vice grips my heart, and I'll do anything...absolutely anything to make it stop.
"Bree," I whisper. "You're safe with me. There is nothing here that is going to hurt you as long as I am around."
"I know that," she says. Her voice is crisp and sure. She's known me all of a day, and yet I can sense she already trusts me from her response. That alone has my guts churning, knowing I'm now responsible for this angel beside me.
I roll back on top of her and stare into her eyes. Something is pulling me into her. Something familiar and strong and it's driving me nuts not knowing what the hell it is. "I've been honest with you. Now be honest with me. Have we met before?"
She isn't even surprised by the question. She takes both of my cheeks in her palms and holds my face directly over hers. Her skin is so soft; it's like silk over my stubble. I fight the need to close my eyes and enjoy it. "No. We haven't."
"Fair enough. But my name? I haven't used it in years."
One hand runs down my stubble until the silky smoothness of her palm disappears. "I know your name the same way I know I'm safe with you. You won't let anything happen to me the same way you didn't let anything happen to my brother."
"Your brother?"
It hits me the second I ask the question. I know those eyes because I've seen them before. Or at least a pair so similar it's eerie. Long ago, in another country. "David Turner. He's your brother?"
"Yes," she whimpers. "David spent hours telling me about how you guarded his unit. How you cared for the civilians as much as you provided for your own men, and when shots rang out into the air, you were the last to run for cover."
The scar along my hip aches and the flashes of gunfire and smoke take me over until I feel Bree underneath me, and I'm grounded in the bed, in the clubhouse, in the states.
I was always the last because, unlike the boys under me, I knew dying in the middle east would be easier than returning home. Seeing what we saw, knowing the truths everyone could easily dismiss as false, I wanted to make sure I never had to bring that home with me.
"He said you were shot once. That's what brought you home."
My hip aches at the mention of the wound. I shift my weight to one arm and use the other to lift my shirt, showing Bree the starburst of white, hardened flesh just able my right hip bone. Then I try to read her expression. It's guarded as she reaches out and trails two fingers along my scar.
The sensation of her softness makes me hiss in a breath, and her gaze darts back to mine. "I'm sorry. Does it hurt you to touch it?"
"Not anymore," I answer, though there are pains in this world that rival the physical, and she's just awoken one within me.
She's watching me, but her fingers are still on my skin. She's only touching the thick patches of tissue that no longer have any sensation, but I feel her warmth down to my bones and deeper.
Having Bree in my bed isn't the great idea I thought it was. She's not safe here. If I could rip away my own humanity, I'd have her right now. Tear the sorry excuse for a shirt and shorts off her body and plunge into her like an animal. My blood pumps hard, and my cock pulsates at the thought.
Fuck, this isn't going to be the peaceful night of sleep I counted on.
"Jordan," she says, her voice breaking when I shift my weight, and the length of my swollen cock pushes into her thigh. "Or is Bear what I should call you?"
"I like Jordan. But only when you say it. And only alone. We keep our anonymity that way."
"Okay, Jordan. I have a confession." Her fingers trail up to my shirt collar, and she stretches them out along my neck. She enjoys toying with me, and when she shifts her hips, my dick is seated right above her mound, my mouth goes dry.
"What could you have ever done that needs a confession."
She laughs lightly. "Plenty. But this one is special. I came here looking for you because I need your help."
I'm not sure if I should smile that she's here just for me, or worry that something is wrong and she needs protection. I settle on a flat expression and a simple question of my own. "What could you possibly need from me?"
A pang of sadness washes over her eyes. I'm captivated by it, and I can't look away until she gives me an answer, no matter how long it takes her to form the words. She's under my protection, no matter what secret she spills next. That, I'm sure of. I'd do anything to keep this woman safe.
She cups my cheek again, but only for a second before she pulls her hand away and covers her chest with it. "I need something I know will be hard for you to do, but It's imperative to me. I'm not asking lightly. I know it's a lot."
Bree pauses, and I swear my heart stops, determined to only beat again at the sound of her voice.
"Jordan. I need to understand what happened to my brother during his deployment. I need you to tell me everything. Even the hard stuff. I have to understand what made him come back a different man."
A surge of white-hot heat burns through my entire body like a fire poker branding delicate flesh.
"Can you help me?"
Her voice is a whisper, but it rings in my ears the same as if she'd screamed it.
I'd do just about anything for Bree. Now that I know she's David's little sister, the one he talked about daily during our deployment as if she were the only thing that mattered in his life, I'd give my life to keep her safe.
But the one thing I can't do, I think looking into her eyes now pooling with unshed tears, is the thing she's asking for. I can't unlock the metal locker I keep those days suppressed in. I can't do that for anyone.
Not even the woman I might be falling hard for.
Not even for David's little sister.
* * *
Bree
I can't sleep. Bear is on his side, turned away from me, and he's out by the deep sound of his breathing. He has been for hours. While I can only stare at the ceiling and scold myself for playing my cards too soon.
I hadn't planned to keep David a secret, but maybe I should have. The second I mentioned his name, Bear stiffened. He shut down our conversation and told me to get some sleep.
Easier said than done in a queen size bed with a brooding bear at your side. Throw in a beast of a man who was getting really worked up and ready to fuck me before he shut everything down, and I can't help
but feel dejected.
I can't lay beside him any longer without touching him. I feel like I need to apologize. Maybe even ask to stay in another room until morning. At least I can give him his bed back.
The covers are tight around my legs, and it takes some work, but I free myself and am standing without waking him up. I grab my bag and my dead phone and resign myself to never having an honest answer about David. The doorknob squeaks, but I turn it slow and muffle the sound into my hand enough that Bear doesn't move.
I'm home free until I step into the hall and two men, both the size of mountains, stand on either side of the door with their arms over their chests and scows so deep I'm pretty sure I can see all the way to their dejected childhoods.
"Where are you going?" One asks, and I'm sure his voice is the product of a three-pack a day habit and enough straight whiskey to permanently burn his vocal cords.
I glance up and find his eyes hidden between a bushy beard, graying hair, and eyebrows that look like wooly worms stuck to his face. "To the bathroom?" I lie. I know he knows it, but it's the best I can come up with.
"There's a john in Bear's room," he says. His voice is so deep and rich, I feel it vibrate through me. It's not the same kind of humming vibration I feel when Bear lowers his voice and stares at me as if he could devour me whole. This vibration makes my hair stand and icy fingers run up my back.
I lean in a little and cup my hand over my mouth like I'm telling him a big secret. "I don't exactly want him to hear me if you know what I mean."
Come on, ya big lug! Has he never in his life wanted to impress a woman? Then I remember where I am and notice all the patches he has on his leather vest. He's a vet like most of the guys, and the Tempest Elite patch over his chest says Road Leader. I have no idea what it means, but I'm sure it's enough to have any of the women I saw sitting around the bar tables taking care of his business.
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