Infatuation

by River Savage

  I pocket my phone, kick my stand up and reach for my helmet. Before I can put it on, the cool metal of a gun meets my temple.

  “You better hope you’re brave enough to pull the trigger, motherfucker.” I keep my eyes straight ahead trying to assess my options.

  “Brave bastard, aren’t ya? Don’t think I won’t use it.” The voice isn’t familiar to me, so I rule out Chad and try to go through the list of who I’ve pissed off the last few months. It’s a long list.

  “What the fuck do you want?” I ask, kicking the stand of my bike down. If this asshole hurts my bike, I won’t be responsible for what I do.

  “Where the fuck is she?” He presses the gun harder against my temple.

  “Who?” My back straightens. Maybe this is about Kenzie.

  “Sandra and my kid. I know you fucking took them, with this underground shit gig you have going on with Tiny.”

  Fuck.

  Sandra was the woman I took from one of the Warriors a few months back, her and her baby daughter. I didn’t plan on taking her and she definitely didn’t come to me looking for a way out. I found her crying at the front of the local store one morning. Took one look at her and knew I couldn’t walk away. At the time, I didn’t know she belonged to a Warrior, not that it would have changed anything. I offered her an out and she took it.

  “I don’t know where your information is coming from, asshole. But I don’t know anyone named Sandra. Now either pull the fucking trigger or remove it from my head before I remove your arm from your body for you.” I don’t have a death wish, far from it. But this asshole is desperate to find his family. He’s not going to risk shooting me Unluckily for him though ‘cause I’m gonna make him fucking pay for even trying.

  His laughter rings loud in the parking lot and I take my chance to overpower him. He doesn’t see it coming. My elbow connects to his jaw, knocking him back. Twisting my body, I reach for his gun. He steadies himself and hits back. The butt of his gun hits just above my eye. Warmth pours from my brow and I know he just split it open. Fucker.

  His arm pulls back, ready to bring his fist back down on my face, but I’m faster this time. My fingers twist his wrist back, forcing him to drop the gun. He shouts in pain as I manage to slide off my bike. He comes at me again, his fist rearing back, but before he can connect I force my head forward, connecting with his nose. He falls down fast, blood flowing from his nose. The gun is out of sight, and I don’t worry about it now. I kick at his chest, forcing him back to the asphalt before my boot finds his throat and I push down. Hard.

  “I just want to find my family.” His words are strangled by the pressure of my boot and normally I’d take it easy on a desperate man, doing desperate things, but the fucker just had his gun to my head and split my eyebrow open. I’m not feeling so forgiving today.

  “The family you beat on?” I sneer down at him.

  “So you do know where she is?”

  “I fucking took her away from you, asshole. And I’m not fucking telling you where she is.” I dig a little deeper with my boot. His back arches in pain, but it doesn’t stop me. This piece of shit thought he was a man by putting his hands on his woman. He’s not a man. He’s pathetic.

  “Please.” He gasps, his fingers scratching at my legs.

  I step back, giving him a chance to fill his lungs. He spurts and coughs, rolling to his side.

  “You wanna know where she is?” I ask, eyeing the gun. It’s fallen close to my bike out of view. I pick it up and point it at him.

  “You know I do. You have no fucking clue who you’re messing with. The truce will be done with when my Prez finds out what you did.”

  I laugh. “You think I give a fuck about the truce? I don’t. Means nothing to me, or our club,” I lie, knowing how far we’ve come with the Warriors. Blood has been shed, and the last thing we need is to have them coming into our territory.

  “Tell me where she is and I won’t go to my Prez,” he tries to threaten me.

  “You don’t know who you’re playing with. You think your Prez is gonna start a war for you.” I release the safety on his gun and watch panic flash across his face.

  “Put the gun down, Beau.” I hear movement to my left, but I keep the gun trained on the fucker on the ground.

  “Ain’t gonna put it down.” I don’t bother looking around. I know I have one guy to my left, and another to my right.

  “Just fucking shoot him.” The weasel on the ground shouts to his friends, but no one reacts.

  “What the fuck you doing, Baz? Told you to cool off with this Sandra shit,” another voice asks, this time from my right.

  “I don’t want any fucking trouble. Your boy, Baz, here had his gun to my head. Misunderstanding. He has the wrong man.”

  The air is quiet as everyone waits for someone to make the next move.

  “I will find her.” Baz comes to his feet, but doesn’t step closer.

  No fucking chance in hell he’s finding her.

  “I wish you luck, but I don’t know who you’re looking for.” I lower the gun and place it in the waistband of my jeans.

  “That’s my gun, asshole.”

  “And now it’s mine. Next time you put a gun to a man’s head, make sure you pull the trigger.” I mount my ride, confident neither Baz nor the two guys will push the matter. There’s no proof. I made sure of it. And they’d be stupid to push it either way, especially on our turf.

  They all stay back as I put my helmet on. My eye is already swelling and my head is pounding. Baz begins to say something, but I start my bike and let the rumble wash away his voice.

  I’m sure something will come out of tonight. I just fucked up a Warrior and took his gun. But I don’t give a shit. He’s on our territory. He’s lucky I didn’t use his gun on him.

  I give one more look back at Baz and take off. I take the long route home, taking extra back streets to weed out any tail I might have. I don’t think I do, but I won’t take any chances with Mackenzie now living with me.

  After making sure I’m clear, I pull into my driveway and shut down my bike.

  The house is lit up like a Christmas tree, and I shake my head.

  Damn woman, I don’t know why she has to have every light on in the house.

  Before I go in to see her, I walk across the street to the truck Hunter sits in. He lowers the window when I’m close enough.

  “What the fuck happened to you?” He notices my eye right away.

  “You should see the other guy. Everything okay here?” I ignore his question and ask the important shit.

  “Yeah, nothing happening.”

  “Good. You can head out now. I’m in for the rest of the night.” I tap the top of his truck and turn to walk away.

  “Oh, ya might wanna tell your woman, maybe not come out on the porch wearing what she’s wearing tonight.” I turn and watch him put his hands up in surrender, just like Baz did earlier. “Just saying, bro. Had both neighbors out earlier practically eye fucking her.” He starts his truck and peels down the street before I can tell him to fuck off.

  Great. More shit to deal with tonight.

  Thirteen

  Mackenzie

  I hear the rumble of his bike as he pulls into the drive and I race to the sofa, quickly opening my book and finding the page I was on, not wanting to look like I’ve been waiting for him.

  Even if I have been.

  It’s been just over a week since I moved in. A week of living in each other’s space. Of pure hell. Pure sex-god, hot-body, sexy-as-sin, beard-wearing, and fantastic hair hell.

  The man is under my skin and living in close proximity is not helping at all.

  Apparently, I didn’t think this through when I agreed to live here. Yeah, I admit there was something between Beau and I. Something pulling me to him. I don’t deny it. The kiss alone back at the clubhouse proved it, but I didn’t realize how intense those feelings would grow since living in his space.

  After the first day of awkwardness, things ju
st seemed to fit into place, both of us settling back into our relaxed way. We’ve always been able to talk comfortably with each other, even with the slight tension to begin with, and it is no different here than at the clubhouse.

  Until it became complicated with what I’ve been calling the first incident.

  It happened on day four. I had left my body wash on my bed before my morning shower. I didn’t realize until I had stepped under the water. I knew going by the first few mornings Beau didn’t wake until I had finished in the shower, so I decided to risk a mad dash back to my room in a towel. I made it safely, undetected. His door still firmly closed.

  That wasn’t the problem. It was what I heard when I stepped into my room.

  Moaning. A lot of freaking moaning. And my name. Beau moaning my name.

  I nearly came apart right then and there. He was pleasuring himself, and calling out my name. At first I didn’t know how to respond. I knew we both were hiding our real feelings, but I never imagined it would come to this. It was almost like we were both punishing ourselves for no reason at all. Not sure how I felt about it, I grabbed my wash and raced back to the shower as fast as I could. I tried to push the image out of my head. It didn’t help. It’s all I could picture for the next two days.

  Until the second incident played out on day six.

  I was watching a movie on the sofa late one afternoon. Beau had been moving around the house for most of the day doing his thing and leaving me alone, until he came and joined me. I was lying on my side, taking up all the space. I moved to sit up and make some room for him, but he beat me to it and lifted my legs, planted his ass at the end then rested my feet in his lap.

  “Stay,” is all he said when I tried to lift my legs. How was I going to argue with him? I couldn’t, so I gave up and forced myself to focus my attention back on the movie while he held my ankle in his hand and used his thumb to circle a soft pattern into my skin. At first I didn’t think anything of it. It felt nice and maybe I just needed nice for once. But then a hot steamy scene came on and the room reached sky-high tension. I felt it. He felt it. My vagina felt it. I’m sure Barry the old man next door I met two days ago felt it. I tried not to react. My eyes stayed firmly planted on the TV and I willed myself not to read into it.

  But I couldn’t help it. It was like my foot didn’t want to listen to my brain and instead of keeping still it started searching. Searching for what, I don’t freaking know. He was getting hard. My foot apparently wanted more.

  His thumb stopped stroking me and we both kind of paused. Then next thing I knew he was out of the chair, and heading to bed before dinner. I didn’t see him again until the next morning for breakfast.

  I don’t know what’s worse. The jerking off or the erection. But both have messed with me.

  Plus on top of those two major mishaps, I have taken to dreaming about him. Every night I find his beard between my legs. His tongue, which I have no idea how talented it really is, brings me to orgasm just as I wake.

  It’s torture.

  Pure torture.

  I don’t know how to stop it or if I want it to.

  “Mackenzie!” Beau’s voice fills the room cutting through my daydreaming.

  “What are you yelling for?” I drop my book and stand when I notice his face. All thoughts of playing it cool fade away and I gasp. “Oh, God what happened to you?” I step forward, needing a better look. Blood has dried from his brow down his face and all through his beard.

  “Nothing. What are you wearing?” He runs his eyes over my nightgown before coming back up to my face.

  “Errr, my nightgown?” His lip curls at my reply and I take a step back.

  Ummm, what the hell?

  “Mackenzie, you can’t be wearing this shit here. Not out on the porch. Half the fucking street probably jerked off to the sight of you tonight.” I ignore the fact he just said men are masturbating over me and zero in on him using my full name.

  “What’s going on, Beau?”

  “You’ve got no fucking clothes on, darlin’.” I look down at the black nightgown I’m wearing. The man’s crazy. It’s not like it’s revealing. The length hits just below my knee. The neckline is a little low, but it’s not like I have a large rack to put on display. In the grand scheme of things, it’s barely risqué.

  “This?” I look back up, waiting for him to tell me he’s joking around.

  “Yes, that. You can’t wear it.” He drops his helmet to the table and stalks into the kitchen. Ignoring his ridiculous comment and pissed-off mood, I follow him into the kitchen.

  “What happened to your face?” I walk to the cabinet where the first-aid kit lives.

  “Had a disagreement,” he answers, searching the fridge for food.

  “I cooked dinner.” I wait for him to turn and face me. “I’ll fix it for you if you let me look at your eye.”

  “What did you cook?”

  Damn, he’s stubborn.

  “Chicken pot pie.” He huffs then moves to the table with a beer in his hand. My pie’s clearly good enough to have him caving. I follow him over and open up the kit.

  “Some disagreement then?” I lean down to have a closer look. He moans almost like he’s in pain and I step back.

  “What? I didn’t even touch you.” He doesn’t say anything; instead, he takes off his cut and pulls his black shirt over his head.

  “Put it on.” He offers it to me.

  “You can’t be serious?” I scoff, caught between the thunderous glare he’s giving me and checking out his naked chest.

  Seriously, this man.

  “Darlin’, I’m fucking wired right now. Your tits are in my face. And this fucking sexy getup leaves nothing to the imagination. I’m not sure I’ll be able to hold it together.”

  “Beau?” I take another step back at his tone. I’m not sure if I’m turned on or scared. He’s never been this intense before and I take a minute to calm my breathing.

  He won’t hurt me. I know this.

  “Don’t even go there right now, Mackenzie. You have nothing to be scared of.” He notices my reaction and drops some of his tension. “Just put the shirt on, darlin’.” I know he’s right. I have nothing to be scared of with Beau, and I feel a little foolish for reacting. With quick fingers, I manage to pull it over my head.

  “Fuck, it’s almost worse,” he mumbles, and if I weren’t freaking out, I would laugh at his displeasure.

  “Should I leave?”

  “Fuck no. Just let me stew for a while.” He draws a deep breath in and then slowly lets it out.

  “Feeling better?” I ask when a few minutes of awkward silence pass.

  “Getting there.”

  I roll my eyes. “Are you going to let me clean you up?” I fold my arms in front of me. He follows my movements and shakes his head before lifting his mouth in a sexy smirk.

  “Have at it.” He rests further back in his chair and allows me to proceed.

  I step forward, open an antiseptic swab and begin removing all the dried blood first. I don’t know what the hell happened to stir this kind of reaction in him tonight. Beau’s never spoken like this to me before. Yeah, he has his moments of shortness and bossy ways, but this, this was something else. And I’m not sure if it really has anything to do with the nightgown.

  “This part might sting.” I grab a clean swab and lean back over him. His eyes stay closed as I make short work of cleaning up the cut.

  “It’s not too deep. I’ll just put a bandage on it to keep it closed.” I reach back to the first-aid box and search for some sterile strips. “So what happened tonight?” I ask when I find them.

  “Nothing you need to worry about.” His eyes are still closed, his jaw tense. Being this close with free run to stare at him is dangerous.

  What would he do if I pressed my lips to his?

  “Well, I will if it means you’re gonna come home and be an ass, I might worry.” His right eye opens at my sass and I shrug.

  What does he expect? He pull
s it out of me.

  “Club business, darlin’. Not gonna talk about it with you.” He shuts down my questions.

  Club business. Don’t ask.

  “Fair enough.” I let it go, and place the first strip over the cut. He doesn’t flinch or show any sign of hurting. I use a second strip to make sure it’s secure, this time pushing a little harder. Again he doesn’t react and it doesn’t surprise me. The man is a pro at keeping his emotions in check.

  “Done,” I announce then step back and start clearing the wrappers from the strips and swabs.

  “Thanks, darlin’.” He opens his eyes, the fire slowly fading behind them.

  God, he’s handsome. The dark eyes, tanned skin. Beard. Ugh, the beard.

  “No problem.” I clear my throat and step over to the trash can. He doesn’t say anything else and I wonder if I should push this. “Now that you’re cleaned up, let’s discuss the nightgown.” I take a seat next to him. My mind and body are at war with each other. Some messed-up part of me wants to please him and not wear it just to make him happy. But at the same time, he doesn’t get to tell me what to do.

  “You can’t wear shit like this if you want to live here.”

  “You're serious? What’s wrong with it?”

  “Everything.” He keeps his eyes on his beer and I don't know if I want to slap him or kiss his face. Even just sitting there, in his pissy mood, he affects me. I regard him for a minute, willing his eyes up, but he doesn’t react.

  “Okay, I’ll start looking for a new place tomorrow.” I stand and begin to walk away. I have no idea where this is all coming from. Yeah, sometimes it can be tense between us but this is a whole new level for us. One I’m not okay with.

  “Why? Because I don’t want you to wear the stupid dress around me?” he calls out. I turn back to face him.

  “No, because clearly this living arrangement isn’t working for us. And because you don’t get to control me, Beau.”

  “I’m not trying to control you, Kenz.”

  “No? ‘You can’t wear your nightgown if you wanna live here, darlin’.” I deepen my voice and quote his words back to him. “Is that not controlling?”