Bad Biker Stepbrother

by Michelle Black

  And because of that, I look better than I have ever looked. My stomach is getting flatter and my waist is trim. I turn to the side and admire the soft swell of my c-cup breasts in the sport’s bra. “Not too bad,” I say and turn towards the bathroom.

  Pushing through the door, I scream when I find Damon standing in the middle of the room, his face lathered with shaving cream. He looks towards me and smiles, “Good morning bumblebee,” he says.

  I open my mouth to say something but I just stare at his bare chest. He looks so different from two years ago. He is thicker, more muscle that he used to have. Solid was the best word to describe him and I find my eyes following the path of his muscles down to a six-pack abs and further south to a tempting v where his pants are hanging on his hips.

  He grins at me from the mirror and starts shaving. I am left speechless, not sure whether to close the door, or to continue to watch him. Wait...What did he say? My mind struggles for thoughts as I feel heat flooding through me.

  “Good morning,” my voice sounds like I have swallowed a dozen marbles.

  I go to step back, out of the bathroom when he asks, “How was your run this morning?”

  His voice is normal, not like I have caught him in the bathroom. I focus on his wide shoulders, which flex and move with every swipe of the razor. My gaze runs over the artwork on his body; my imagination captured by the intricate dragons that circle up his back. What I had mistaken for barbed wire was actually the tail of one dragon as it battled and twisted with a second dragon that wrapped around his waist. Between them, each one clutching with one hand is a flaming pearl.

  I shake my head, “It was good. Yours?”

  “Good.” He stops shaving and looks in the mirror at me, forcing me to look at him and not his amazing back with its perfect artwork, “I miss you on the runs.”

  There is no mocking, no hidden tones, nothing but sincerity in his words and I feel my heart flutter at that. We never talk to each other like this, not without all the other baggage there between us.

  Feeling uncomfortable with the way his words were affecting me, I look back at his tattoo.

  “Does your tattoo mean anything?”

  “Which one?” he asks and returns to shaving.

  I lean against the doorframe and cross my arms and my legs. I know I shouldn’t stay but I don’t want to leave just yet. “The dragons.”

  He shrugs his shoulders, “I really liked the artwork so I let the artist use my body as his canvas.”

  It sounds like he is telling the truth but there was something missing.

  Raising an eyebrow at him, I say, “Cool, but what’s the real reason?”

  The smile he gives me warms me right to my toes and I grin back at him. God, he is a really sexy man. “They represent two sides. Good and evil, the age old battle.”

  “And what is the pearl?”

  “What is this, fifty questions?” he teases before sighing. “The pearl represents wisdom, the dragons fight over it and both of them together represents a transformation. In the end, only one dragon will be left in the battle and he will be forever transformed...whether it is for good or for evil remains to be seen.”

  I study him. Does he mean he is the one who will be transformed? If so, what is he transforming into? I watch him for a few minutes as he continues to shave. When he reaches down and splashes water over his face, I gasp at how amazing his ass is in his sweatpants.

  He glances up into the mirror at me and my stomach clenches at the need shooting through me. Ignoring it, I ask, “What about the angel? Does she have any meaning?”

  Looking down at his sleeve, he traces his finger over the delicate angel. “She was for me to remember a girl.”

  “She must have been something for you to put her on your arm.”

  The eyes he turns towards me are haunted as he says, “Yes, she was.”

  I shudder as a rush of new emotions threaten to drown me—despite being such an alpha, there is a touch of vulnerability that makes me want to wrap him up in my arms and hold him tightly.

  “What about you? Is there a man worth remembering?” he asks, breaking into my thoughts.

  Yes! “No,” I say, “I haven’t met any men that have what I’m looking for.”

  “And what is that? Let me guess, someone who is a teacher...sensitive...has money?”

  I laugh. “God no. I want the hero. You know the one. Strong, sexy... real men who aren’t afraid to work and who aren’t afraid of women who can speak her mind and know what she wants.”

  “So you want the romance novel.”

  Laughing, he turns around and leans against the sink. Crossing his arms over his amazing chest, I get the sudden image of me crossing the room and licking my way down the exquisite body. Get a grip Mia, I tell myself. It’s okay to admire his body, but you can’t think any other thoughts.

  His voice goes as serious as his eyes when the laughter fades between us.

  “Maybe you aren’t looking in the right place.”

  I shudder as he takes a step towards me but I don’t run. Instead, I wait for him to take the next step and then the next. The challenge in his eyes telling me to run but I don’t. If I run, I know he will chase me and I am both thrilled by the prospect and terrified by it.

  I put up my hand to keep him from closing the last step between us and my skin burns at the silky touch of his skin. His body is made for sex and I know it offers women ecstasy. All I needed to do was close my eyes and forget for a moment who he is.

  And I do. I close my eyes, my breathing picking up as my fingers trace slowly down his chest to the hard abs I have been admiring for the last twenty minutes. I gasp when he shudders under my touch but I fight the urge to explore further, to dip my hand in his pants like that long ago memory.

  Biting my lip, I war with myself, fighting the urge to touch him more, to give in to this attraction. He clears his throat and my eyes fly open. I see the laughter in his eyes and the cocky smile on his lips and I draw my hand back as though I was touching a snake...and maybe I was.

  “Do you think you could get me some towels? I forgot to grab some when I came in,” he says.

  I nod and with leaden feet, walk out into the hallway to grab some towels from the linen closet. When I return, the towels almost slip from my arms as I see Damon slipping out of his sweatpants. My eyes slip down his back and take in his amazing ass and strong legs. My mouth goes dry and I can’t help but appreciate the virility of this man.

  And then he turns around. His shaft is long and thick and partially erect, as if he is enjoying my perusal.

  “Cat got your tongue bumblebee or are you just appreciating the view,” he says.

  I blanch, “Here are your towels,” I snap, tossing the white linen towards him before I turn tail and race to my room.

  I can hear his laughter through the apartment as I slam the door closed. The entire time, the image of his body plays over and over in my mind as I try to calm myself. I was just admiring his body...it is the physical beauty...it isn’t him.

  “This is completely normal,” I say over and over again but I know it isn’t true even if I don’t want to admit it.

  Chapter Six

  The last two weeks has been unbearable with Damon. He has been here whenever I turn around and his teasing has increased. I think he is being intentionally cruel and I have called him an asshole more times than I can count—of course, I only call him it in my head or when he can’t hear me.

  On my part, I can’t seem to get comfortable and I have become my nickname (bumblebee) again. I buzz around my apartment when he is home and try to stay busy. I avoid the bathroom at all cost when I am not sure if he is in it and I avoid his bedroom. I don’t even pause in front of it anymore.

  When he is trying to be nice, I find myself being nasty to him. My thoughts go back to the night before when he came in at two in the morning. I was up working on an essay when he walked in. While I usually run for my bedroom when I hear him coming in, this tim
e I didn’t.

  Instead, I sit back in my chair and watch him walk in with cold eyes. Anger roars through me, becoming a creature of its own, like the dragons battling on his back.

  “You’re home early,” I sneer.

  He flinches and says, “You didn’t have to wait up.”

  “Well, I wanted to see how my tenant was doing and check on rent. Are you staying another week?” I ask.

  Sitting down in the sofa, he looks at me across the room. He runs his hand through his wavy, black hair and shakes his head.

  “I’m not sure if this is working. I thought I would stay in a hotel for a few more days. It’s about time that I return home.”

  “Home, as in California,” I say, my heart plunging to my feet. Tears prick my eyes at how mixed up I am about this. I should be grateful that he is going to be away from me.

  “Yeah. This was supposed to be only a few weeks, after tomorrow night, things should be back to normal for you.”

  I sneer at him. What does he know about normal? How can I be normal when I feel this attraction to him? No, it isn’t an attraction; I can’t...won’t be attracted to him. It is simply my body appreciating a beautiful, strong, dominant man...nothing more.

  Then why do I feel heartbroken that he is going to leave?

  “Look, Mia,” he says, “I don’t know why we are fighting but we seem to like getting each other going. I can’t help that and I really want to end things on a positive note before I leave. I don’t want it to be another two years before we see each other again.”

  I feel myself softening—I don’t want to fight with him but then it hits me. He is leaving and I won’t see him again until he needs a place to lay low.

  “Really, you don’t want to fight? You come into my life, basically barge into my world, and now you are leaving without so much as a thank you. Instead, I get a, I don’t know why we fight. Do you know why we fight? Because you, sir, are an asshole.”

  The room goes deadly quiet and his eyes are filled with the cold anger I remember all those years ago. Fear creeps through me, devouring my anger as he glares at me. But I try to push it away. I want to be angry with him, when I’m angry; I don’t feel attracted to his body. When I focus on who he is, I can use that anger to remember that his dad and my mom are married.

  “I am going to let that go,” he says slowly and there is a cold venom in his voice that raises the hair on the back of my neck.

  “I have done some pretty awful things for worse but since you are family,” he bites the word like it is an insult, “I will forget you said it.”

  And like that, the fury that I thought was escaping comes roaring back to life and I stand up, ready to throw myself at him and beat him to a bloody pulp in my living room.

  “Forget I said that! I don’t want you to forget I said that. It’s how I feel about you and, you know what, it is how everyone in the family feels about you. You just took off like some asshole and forgot about all of us. And now you are going to do it again!”

  His jaw tightens and I see that tick under his eye when he is really upset but I can’t stop the anger that is seething in my words. I want him to hurt like I am hurting because I shouldn’t feel this way about him.

  “You’re wrapping things up tomorrow? Fine, the morning after that, I want you out of my house. And the next time you need to lie low, find that angel chick that you don’t want to forget because my door is closed to you from now on out.”

  I spit the last sentence out at him and I see him wince as I do. I smile at the victory. For once, Damon is the one being buffeted around, not me. He stands up and I take a step back automatically. It is complete instinct for me to do it, he looks furious.

  His eyes turn to a winter blue with his anger but his voice is calm, “That’s fine. I will be gone in two days and then you never have to worry your pretty blonde head about me again, bumblebee.”

  And with that, he stormed out of the room as I picked up my water bottle and threw it towards the hallway he had disappeared from.

  ****

  I admit, I had wanted to fight with him but I had done it for the wrong reasons. It wasn’t his fault that I felt something whenever I was with him. It wasn’t mine either, if I am honest. It is just physical magnetism and eventually, it will go away.

  But what won’t go away is the fact that I do care about him. He is family, or really, the closest that I have to a brother. Maybe he was an adult when I came into his life, but I was still a teen. It wasn’t his fault that I gave in to my crush and now I was messed up about it.

  The apology wasn’t going to happen any time soon. I had been in my room when I heard him leave. Before I even knew what I was doing, I was out the door and sliding into my own coupe to follow him.

  I’m surprised he hasn’t noticed me. In the city, it was different. There were dozens of cars that I could easily blend in as I followed his bike through the streets but once we left the city behind, I had to fall back even farther. A few times, I even thought I lost him but I would always catch sight of him after every curve in the road.

  I pull over to the side of the road as I watch him turn down a back road. Why the hell is he out here? I glance at the street and notice the dead end sign that is positioned under the street name. Under that is a sign stating that a dock is at the end of the road.

  Hesitating, I slump down as I watch a black SUV turn down the road that Damon just turned down. Is he in trouble? Is he meeting someone he shouldn’t be meeting? Worry chews at me and I finally shift the car into drive, turning the headlights off as I slowly follow the road down until it reaches a large parking lot.

  I see the SUV on the far side as well as Damon’s bike. Turning around and parking down the road where I won’t be seen, I get out of the car and slowly walk towards the parked vehicles. Eyes darting everywhere, I don’t call out for Damon. I don’t know why he is out here but it can’t be anything legal if he is meeting in a dark marina.

  I can hear the sound of voices in the marina and I creep towards the sound, careful not to be seen. As I glance around the side of a boathouse, I see Damon standing beside a middle-aged man, his baldhead shining in the moonlight.

  “You should have known Jake,” Damon was saying, “You know that I would come here looking for the money. You shouldn’t have stolen it in the first place.”

  My breath catches and I duck behind the building, terrified that they would see me. This is obviously not something that Damon would want me to hear...I am sure of it.

  “Look Damon, I swear I didn’t take the money. Steven did. He just set me up.”

  Damon turned and I can see from the light of an overhead lamp that he had the same cold fury I had seen with Derek. A shiver runs up my spine as I wonder if I should go out and save the man from Damon. He is sure to beat him into a pulp if he isn’t stopped and I really don’t want Damon to get into trouble.

  “Do you take me for a fool Jake?” Damon says and his voice, like a cold wind, carries to me despite being deadly quiet.

  “No, I don’t. I know what you’re capable of Damon. That’s why I wouldn’t rip you off.”

  Damon takes a step away from the man and turns towards the lake. I can’t see his face as he stares out over the water but I can see Jake’s face perfectly as he looks back towards me...towards escape.

  I duck back behind the wall and pray that he didn’t see me but I feel drenched in icy water. Sweat clings to me as fear speeds up my heart. The look on Jake’s face is terrifying and he looks like a man who is expecting death—like all hope is lost.

  Taking a calming breath, I glance around the corner of the building and sigh with relief when I see Jake staring at Damon’s back. He didn’t notice me!

  “Look, Damon. I am sure we can work something out. I can help you find Steven and he will tell you the truth. I will make sure of it,” Jake says, his voice pleading.

  “Will you? And what will happen if Steven says that you’re lying?”

  “Then I will persu
ade him to tell the truth because I am not lying man. I wouldn’t mess with you or anyone from the gang. I was just a numbers guy running the numbers for you...nothing else. I don’t have the balls to steal from you.”

  Jake’s voice has lost the pleading and it sounds like he is feeling more confident in his story.

  Regardless, it leaves me with so many questions. Who is this Steven? Why did they steal money? What type of life was Damon living in California? Should I get him out of my house sooner than tomorrow?

  “Maybe,” Damon says, his back still facing the water, “I want to believe you Jake. I am just so tired of this and I don’t think I have it in me to do what I need to do with you. But if I don’t, people will think I’m weak.”

  Jake takes a step towards him, “You aren’t weak, man. You are the strongest badass I know and this isn’t weakness. Seeing the truth when you hear it is the sign of a strong man. Knowing the truth will make you great.”

  Damon glances back at him and his jaw is still tight. I can’t see his eyes but I am positive they are cold with that strange tick he gets when he is angry. Run, Jake...I want to scream. Run and stop talking you idiot.

  “See, that’s the problem Jake.” Damon says, his voice as cold as murder, “I know the truth. I have already spoken with Steven. Actually, we had quite the conversation before he died and he admitted to his part in the theft. He also admitted to having help. See, Steven was a dumbass. He couldn’t figure out a way to take the money so he needed someone else, a numbers guy, if you will. He named his numbers guy and that is why we are here tonight. I’m sure you know whose name he said seconds before he died.”

  Jake stumbles and it looks like he is going to faint before he reaches against his stomach and withdraws a long, black pistol from his waistband. I scream before clamping my hand over my mouth as Jake turns the gun towards Damon.

  And like a snake, Damon swiftly grasps Jake’s outstretched hand at the same moment he steps into him. I hear Jake’s wrist snap, the sound echoing across the lake before he even has a chance to pull the trigger. The gun flies through the air and is lost to the darkness as Damon’s fist makes contact with Jake, not once but five times before the man collapses to the ground.