SCORE: Hell’s Seven MC Biker Romance

by Jolie Day

  “Whoa!” he said, putting up his hands. “Don’t!” He couldn’t stand screaming. “It’s just me, okay? It’s Marc. Do you remember who I am?”

  Lauren’s mouth closed, her lips pressed in a thin line as she took a moment to think. Finally, she nodded, her shoulders relaxing with her realization.

  “Good,” Marc said, sighing. “That’s good. Are you okay?” She nodded again. “Okay, that’s good, too. Um, do you wanna maybe turn that off?” He pointed to the alarm clock, which continued to beep away, giving him a headache. Lauren reached for it, hitting the ‘off’ button.

  They were shrouded in silence and he breathed a sigh of relief.

  “Thanks,” he said. He didn’t know what else to say. He wanted to ask her what was wrong, but he knew she would not answer his question. He’d rather just offer to help her forget, at least for now. He could think of several ways to do that.

  But then, he saw the tears in her eyes and realized that wasn’t going to happen. Not now, anyway.

  “Um,” he said, looking over his shoulder, into the main room, “I made coffee. It’s on the counter.” Then he turned and walked out, forcing his limp to a minimum. He hesitated for a second, but closed the door behind him, giving her a little space to compose herself.

  Marc located a loaf of sliced bread easily enough, in the fridge, and popped a couple of pieces into the toaster, leaning against the counter as he sipped his coffee, black.

  Lauren emerged from the bedroom in a pair of scrubs, her hair up in a ponytail and her face devoid of makeup, yet somehow still as desirable as she’d been the day before.

  “Good morning,” she murmured as she grabbed her own cup from the counter and reached into the fridge for the cream. Marc’s eyes were drawn to her ass, which was somehow perfectly outlined by the scrub bottoms. He let out a playful whistle and Lauren jumped slightly. “What?” she asked, without removing her head from the fridge.

  “Nothing,” he murmured in response. “Just enjoying the view.”

  When she straightened up, she gave him a look, her eyebrow raised. He gave her a charming smile in return and watched as her cheeks reddened, even as she rolled her eyes.

  “Why are you still naked?” she teased. “Shouldn’t your clothes be dry by now?”

  “I prefer to spend my mornings in the buff,” Marc retorted. “You got a problem with that, Doc? Kinda prudish, if you ask me.”

  “I think you know that I’m not a prude, Mr. Kelly.” There was fire in her eyes and Marc found himself placing his mug down on the counter, stepping toward her with a reflected heat in his own.

  “Do I?” he asked, reaching out to grasp her hips. “Maybe I need a refresher, huh?”

  “I don’t have time for that,” Lauren said, dancing away from him. “I have to open the clinic this morning.”

  “Let somebody else do it,” he growled, finally hooking his arms around her waist, pulling her up against his body, so that she could feel his hardness against her. He knew that it would be more enticing than just seeing it.

  “I wish I could,” Lauren murmured, pressing her lips to his scruff—he gave himself a mental pat on the back for not shaving. “But, sadly, I am an adult.” She pulled out of his embrace, more easily than she should have been able to. “And I have a job to do and patients to see.”

  She glanced down and he felt himself get harder. She looked as if she could be persuaded to change her mind. He took a step toward her, but she placed her hand against his chest, stopping him with a look on her face.

  “Your knee looks better,” she said. “So do your ribs. You probably don’t have to come in for an X-ray if that’s the case, but you should still stay off your feet.” She turned and made her way back into her bedroom. He heard her rummaging, before she appeared again with a leash and her purse. “I’ll take Emma with me so you don’t have to worry about giving her an afternoon walk. You shouldn’t use stairs today.”

  “I’m fine.” His voice was gruff, insistent.

  Lauren smiled, knowingly. “Okay,” she said, but it was sarcastic. “Still, you should stay off your feet. I’ve got a comfortable couch, cable, and books. There are some takeout menus in that drawer and all you have to do is put on pants because they usually send a kid for deliveries and I’d rather not explain why a naked man was answering my door at twelve in the afternoon.”

  “You’re no fun,” Marc teased.

  “Hmm, then I suppose you wouldn’t want my boring ass to be anywhere near you when my shift ends at two, huh?”

  “Don’t play with me, Doc,” Marc growled, reaching for her. “Afternoon sex is almost as good as morning sex.”

  “You’ll have to prove it,” Lauren husked, nipping at his bottom lip.

  Marc growled, tightening his hold on her. “Oh, I will,” he said, before joining his lips with hers in a fiery kiss. When he let her go, she looked dazed, her lips swollen and pink and delicious. Breathlessly, she pushed a flyaway strand of hair behind her ear and cleared her throat.

  “I’ll see you later,” she said, obviously trying her best to sound normal. “Put on pants.”

  Then she was gone, leaving Marc gazing after her swinging hips and planning what he would do to her when she returned.

  *****

  He spent the morning in bed, catching up on some well-needed rest, surrounded by her scent. When he woke up, the sun was leaking through the blinds, setting warming strips across his body. He sat up and stretched, testing out his knee. He’d iced it a little bit more while he ate breakfast, and the swelling had stayed down. It was slightly easier to bend now, but not much easier to walk on.

  He limped across the apartment, settling down on the couch to flip through the channels. There was nothing good on TV so he decided to explore the contents on Lauren’s bookshelves. Her taste in literature was varied: from romance to comedy to horror. There were medical textbooks next to psychology books and history books, language dictionaries, and seemingly random titles that were completely out of place, despite the variation of her interests.

  He picked up one small novel with a spine so tattered and ripped that he couldn’t figure out what the silver letters spelled out. When he saw what was on the cover, however, a wide smile came over his face and he tucked the book under his arm, intent on bringing up the subject matter to Lauren later on, when she returned home.

  Oh, this was going to be fun.

  ***

  When Lauren returned to the house, she was practically dead on her feet. Usually, during the day, she was able to sit every couple of minutes, between seeing patients and doling out prescriptions. But today, the clinic had been so packed that all three of the doctors on call had been scrambling to get through them as quickly as possible. She was suddenly very happy that Marc hadn’t accompanied her to the clinic after all, because that would have only added to the headache she now had throbbing in her temples.

  The door was unlocked when she turned the knob and she was thankful for that, allowing Emma to precede her inside as Lauren practically dragged herself after the pet. Her stomach growled like a lion, reminding her that she’d skipped her lunch break in favor of doing a sonogram for a worried first-time mother, convinced that her unborn child was terribly ill and possibly dead inside of her. It had taken all three of the doctors, and several nurses, to convince her that her two-month old fetus was perfectly healthy and just the right size.

  “Marc!” she called. “I’m back!”

  Her eyes scanned over the apartment. There were takeout containers piled on the dining room table and, upon closer inspection, she found them all half-filled. She would have to thank Marc later for this, as she grabbed a fork and dug straight into the boneless spare ribs, fried rice, and dumplings that he’d left behind. She shoved as much into her mouth as she could, still scanning the common space for him.

  “Marc?” she called. She hoped he wasn’t stuck down on the beach, though she wouldn’t have been surprised if he didn’t listen to her warning about stairs. She di
dn’t know how she would help him back up in to the house. She wasn’t exactly strong enough to lift him.

  Lauren had started toward the deck, still holding the container of boneless spare ribs in her hands, picking at them with her thumb and forefinger, when she heard a whistle and turned to look into her bedroom. Marc was there, as naked as he’d been that morning, with only a pillow to cover him as he sat on the edge of the bed.

  There was a book on the bed next to him and Lauren let out a gasp as she recognized exactly what it was, even without being able to see the title. The boneless spare ribs fell from her hands and Emma ran straight over to clean up her master’s mess. Lauren barely registered the tickle of the retriever’s nose as she made her way into the bedroom, her steps slightly staggered, her face flushed and her body aflame as she joined Marc on the bed. She removed the pillow and straddled his bare hips.

  “What’s that?” she murmured, stroking his stubbled jaw.

  “A little something I found on your bookshelf, Dr. Stanton. Turns out you’re not such a prude, after all.”

  “Didn’t I tell you?” Lauren giggled, stroking his shoulders and pressing nipping kisses up and down his neck and chest. “You should really learn to trust me a little more, don’t you think?”

  “Hmm,” Marc murmured, his hands slipping beneath her scrub top. This one had butterflies on it. “Maybe so.” Lauren pressed sucking kisses up his neck, until their lips were joined in yet another fiery kiss. His hands traveled up and down her back, squeezing the curves of her ass and breasts, pulling her close to his body. “Mm,” he growled. “You taste so good, but I bet you’d taste a lot better if you took off your pants.”

  “Sound logic,” Lauren snorted, pushing off of his lap. She was naked in seconds, but instead of climbing right back atop him, she reached for the book and perched herself on the bed next to him, opening it up to the first page. “So,” she said, “which position were you thinking of?”

  Marc leaned in, pressing his lips right up against her ear. “All of them,” he husked, his hot breath washing over her neck and making Lauren shiver. “Or as many as you think you can handle. A lot of them look like they take a little bit of skill. And flexibility. Frankly, Doc, I’m not sure you have what it takes.”

  Lauren turned to him with pure fire in her eyes. “Is that a challenge, Mr. Kelly?”

  “Depends,” Marc replied. “Are you up for it?”

  A slow, sexy grin spread over Lauren’s lips as she placed the book behind her on the bed, hooking one leg around his. “Oh, hell yes,” she said, before attacking his mouth with hers, pushing him firmly back on the bed, her hips gyrating against his as they started with position one:

  Missionary.

  They broke around Position 12, which had a name neither of them could say with a straight face, but put pressure in certain spots on her body that Lauren knew she would be feeling later.

  The sun was already beginning to set as they stepped out into the main room. Emma was laying by her empty food bowl. Lauren quickly filled it and patted the dog’s head, before grabbing the leftover rice and dumplings, dumping them all onto one plate and setting it in the microwave. As the food warmed up, she stared at the growing pile of paperwork on the counter, still beneath her medical journals.

  “You’re gonna get me fired,” she said to Marc as he stepped out of the laundry room in a pair of clean boxers and a dark t-shirt that made his muscles look bigger, somehow. She didn’t even think that was possible.

  “Oh?” he asked, boxing her in against the counter. “How do you figure that, Doc?”

  “I haven’t done any paperwork in two days,” Lauren said. “All because of you.”

  “How important is paperwork really, though?” Marc laughed, pressing his lips against her collarbone. “Is it more important than multiple orgasms?”

  Lauren made a mewling sound instead of answering the question.

  “Is it more important than my fingers?” Marc slipped his fingers beneath the hem of the shirt she was wearing. His shirt.

  Lauren moaned, rocking her hips against his hand.

  “More important than my mouth?” he husked, trailing kisses down her body, pushing her thighs apart and placing his head between them. The shirt was pushed up to bunch underneath Lauren’s breasts.

  She gasped when she felt the kisses on her inner thighs, right where she could feel her pulse thumping in her veins.

  “More important than my teeth?” Marc nipped at her inner thighs, his hands still kneading her thighs. He ignored the pain in his knee, intent on giving her pleasure.

  Lauren whimpered, her hands clutching the edge of the counter. Her legs hooked over his shoulders as she pressed herself more insistently against him.

  “More important than my tongue?” Marc growled, plunging it deep inside of her.

  “Ah!” Lauren cried out, her fingers sinking into his hair and tugging in her ecstasy.

  When he pulled away, Marc’s mouth was wet with her juices and Lauren was laying back on the counter, her chest heaving.

  “So?” he asked. “Is paperwork more important than this?”

  Unable to speak, Lauren shook her head. Her hands were still in his hair, tugging him forward until their lips met and she could taste herself in his mouth. She moaned, her legs wrapping around his waist and pulling him against her body.

  “Wanna go for 13?” he asked, grinning down at her, his icy blue eyes glinting in the waning sunlight.

  “You are insatiable,” Lauren murmured, but didn’t dare to protest as he picked her up, ignoring the ache in his knee as he turned and carried her back into the bedroom. The door slammed before the beeper on the microwave had time to even signal that their food was ready.

  Not that either of them was paying much attention to that, anyway.

  Chapter Five

  The next few days passed in a blur of passion.

  Lauren spent her nights wrapped around Marc’s body, moaning his name as he took her on nearly every surface in the tiny house. No matter where their embrace began, no matter where she was bent over or pushed to her knees to worship at his body the way he worshipped hers, they always ended up back in her bed. Sometimes she rode him hard, her hands holding his to keep herself upright as she panted and moaned and groaned and, finally, screamed at the top of her lungs. Sometimes she rode him soft, pressing the soft curves of her body to the hard lines of his, her hands stroking his hair as she draped herself over him, feeling him take her slowly to that edge, the fire in her belly growing into an inferno that consumed them.

  Every time they made—had sex, Marc wrapped his arms around her from behind, spooning her silently. Every time, Lauren felt inexplicably safe in his warm, strong embrace. Every time, she woke alone in bed to find Marc in her kitchen, wearing boxers—or less—and reading the newspaper with two plates of whatever he’d managed to find in her perpetually bare cupboards. He always greeted her with a gruff “good morning” as she sat down next to him and ate quickly before leaving for work. Rarely did they say more than that, but Lauren found herself oddly content with that.

  Work was a lot easier to get through, despite how tired she was now that sleep was often put off for an hour (or four) every night. She would get her paperwork done during her lunch break, quickly dissipating the pile that sat atop her desk, and return home to the man warming her bed.

  Marc had taken to walking Emma up and down the street while Lauren was at work and, while the retriever hadn’t been too crazy about men before, she seemed to genuinely enjoy his company. Especially since he could play fetch on the beach with her for hours without rest. By the time Lauren returned home, Emma was conked out by her food bowl, having already been fed.

  Before she could so much as greet Marc each night, he had taken control of her lips with his, swallowing her moans as he picked her up and planted her on either the kitchen counter, the table, or the sink, or pushed her against the nearest wall. Sometimes, they even stumbled out onto the deck, where he bent her
over the railing and took her from behind, looking out at the private stretch of beach.

  After several hours of moans and groans and one orgasm after another, Lauren wouldn’t be able to take anymore, pushing Marc away from her for a breather—and something to eat. Often, they would order in—since Lauren barely had time to go grocery shopping, between work and sex—but sometimes, he surprised her with a steak or some kind of meat hidden somewhere in the fridge. When she asked where he got it, he would shrug and just say he and Emma dropped by the market on one of their walks down the block. He never made a big fuss or show out of the fact that he bought food just to cook for her, and neither did Lauren.

  It meant nothing. It was just food. They needed food to keep up their energy for sex. That’s all it was. She spent hours, late into the night, convincing herself of this after Marc fell asleep. After all, she’d promised him that there would be no feelings. He’d be gone soon anyway and she’d be alone again.

  That’s how her life was just meant to be.

  They got into such a steady routine that Lauren had almost forgotten about the reason Marc was in her life in the first place.

  Then Joe called and it was like dumping a bucket of ice-cold water over her entire body.

  She was at lunch when Sondra, her receptionist, informed her of the call from the auto shop. Lauren was confused for half a second as she picked up the phone, but Joe’s voice brought it all back.

  “It’s gonna take a few more days, Doc,” he said, without any kind of formal greeting whatsoever. “Some of the parts on that damn bike were beyond repair. What the hell was he doing on this thing? It’s a complete deathtrap.” She could practically see him shaking his head in disgust. “I’m afraid you’re gonna be stuck with the limping biker for at least another week.”

  “That’s okay,” Lauren laughed. “He’s really not so bad once you get to know him, actually.”