by Hazel Parker
It had been over a dozen years since I had even kissed someone. I wasn’t kidding when I told Burke that I had shut myself out from the world for fear of getting hurt and became the most stereotypical businesswoman possible—someone so focused on her work that she didn’t have time to find love. I had thought that I was making a name for myself and proving everyone who had doubted me wrong.
And maybe I had. But what good did it get me? If I saw those elementary and middle school bullies who said I was no good, or, if I saw Blake now, what would happen? Sure, for a few minutes, they might be jealous that I had gotten to where I had. But by the next day, they would have moved on with their lives. They would sometimes mention me as “the one they never thought would get as far as she did” but it wouldn’t affect their lives in any way. I wasn’t in competition with anyone for the best life or the best marketing role, at least not with anyone who had tormented me.
It was time to drop that and recognize the truth. Maybe in my twenties, I could have pushed away the desire for love. Maybe even in my early thirties, I could have done that.
Now, though? I couldn’t. And perhaps, then, it was only appropriate that the person who most touched me was someone who had experienced something similar.
What Burke didn’t realize at first was that when he told me these things, it made me understand him more and appreciate him more. He wasn’t gruff and silent because he was an asshole; he was that way because of some serious tragedies. I wondered what he would have been like before Jess had died; was he the cheerful guy he had said he was? Or was that only relative to what he was now: someone largely shut out and distant from the world?
Would I have liked Burke that way? Maybe, but a large part of why I liked Burke was because he understood my pain, my story. If he was still that happy, cheerful guy, could he relate to me? Or would he just be like one of the other hundreds of men who approached with a smile and charm but found they could get no further than a courtesy, “business only” dinner?
It didn’t matter now, because romantic hypotheticals weren’t like business hypotheticals. I couldn’t split test Burke, the stone-cold sergeant-in-arms, and Burke, the jokester. And I wouldn’t have wanted to, anyway.
Some things, especially things in the matter of love, hope, and romance, needed just to be taken as they were. If it didn’t work out, it didn’t work out.
Fortunately, things with Burke were working out very, very well.
When our kiss finally did end, I found myself putting my hands on his cheeks as I stared into this eyes. I pressed my forehead into his, feeling myself intoxicatingly taken by him. I didn’t just like him now—I needed him. I had to have him.
“Burke…” I gasped, his name like a blessing.
I pulled him back in for another kiss, but this one was much more passionate and intense. Over a decade of celibacy was trying to get itself out, trying to end itself with Burke. I was horny, sure, but I was also, frankly, desperate for that connection. I wanted Burke and I go to further than I had with anyone since Blake.
He had unlocked a part of me that was suppressed for far too long. We could argue if I had subconsciously also wanted this when he came and rescued me, but it was all a moot point anyway. I was ready to have him inside of me, to be naked before him, to give of myself everything to him.
I reached down to his shirt and started tugging it up. I could feel his ripped abs, his square pecs, and his rocky shoulders as I worked the shirt up. I never let go of his lips, only pulling back to get his shirt—
“Stop,” he gasped.
I didn’t think I’d heard him right. Stop?
I kept going, pushing back in to kiss him.
But he said it again.
“Megan, please, stop,” he said.
He scooted away from me. I sat there on the couch, stunned. What… what had changed?
“Sorry,” he said. “Not… I’m not ready… not ready for this.”
“For us?” I said, fearful.
Burke slowly shook his head.
“No,” he said. “I want us. But…”
He didn’t say anything. I’d pushed him almost to the limit of his emotional capabilities, and I didn’t want to push him any further. When he gathered some strength, he’d explain himself, but right now…
He’s not ready to be intimate. Maybe it has to do with Jess. Or maybe he just wants to go a little bit slower.
“Megan,” he said, taking a deep breath. “This, right here. The club has it in spades. Anytime I want sex, it’s there. But… don’t want that.”
My eyes went wide as I pushed my skirt down, as much for myself as for his eyes.
“Thing about being in a club like this, any vice you want to indulge, can,” he said. “Sex. Drugs. Alcohol. Gambling. All here. Sex is easy. But… I don’t.”
“You don’t?” I said.
I suddenly had visions of porn stars and strippers in this clubhouse, all putting on a show for various members of the club. I didn’t know exactly what it would look like, but it was enough that I knew many of the women would probably be more attractive than me, probably with bigger breasts and asses than I had.
“Not anymore,” Burke said. “At the start, yes. But I quickly realized it was not for me. Just…”
It doesn’t fill the void for him. It doesn’t make him feel like he did around Jess.
“So…”
“It’s OK, Burke,” I said, and I meant it. I wasn’t saying “it’s OK” as a way to just abruptly push him away or end things. It was OK; the act he had done could not have been better for proving that he wanted a relationship, not just to fuck me.
Admittedly, I wanted to fuck him.
Too harsh? Not for my body that had waited over a decade for this moment. Not for how wet and aroused I was. God, how I fucking wanted him.
But I knew that if I fucked him, it would be really fucking good for the night… but if that was all there was to it, I’d be going to work for the next month wondering why I acted so rashly and so stupidly. Wasted my decade-long virginity on a biker?
Burke was much more than a biker. But if all I did was fuck him, then that was all that I saw him as.
“Look, we all need time to process things,” I said. “I appreciate you sharing what you did with me. I know that must have been very hard.”
“Yes,” he said. “I like you, Megan. Feelings are romantic.”
I smiled and practically purred on the couch.
“We’ll try this again at a later date,” I said. “There’ll be plenty of time. I promise to help you through things if you promise to help me.”
I held out my hand. It was like a handshake, but I turned my hand so that he could interlace my fingers. He took my hand, gave a gentle squeeze, and threaded his fingers between mine. It was such a sweet move, I got chills down my spine.
“I will help you,” he said.
And then he smiled the first full smile I had ever seen.
“Thank you, Burke.”
Such a smile wasn’t just an expression of how he felt in the morning, though it was certainly that. It was him letting his emotions out in full—it was him being vulnerable with me. The last time he’d smiled at someone like that, the woman had died. It must have taken an enormous amount of courage on his part to smile at me the way he did, and I knew I wasn’t going to forget that he had done that anytime soon.
Soon enough. Soon enough, we can figure this out and we can help each other move forward.
For now, though, we have to help in a different way.
“Shall we get back to why we came here?” I said, raising an eyebrow.
Burke snorted and turned his hand, as if saying “by all means.” He was never going to be the overly talkative type, but he’d talked plenty tonight.
We went through the list of names, but Burke didn’t seem to recognize any of them. I pulled up photos on Google of everyone that I worked with, but that also didn’t seem to be doing any good. Burke and I were left frustrated.
“No,” he said. “Mercs are annoying, but not random. Whatever they did, they had a reason for it.”
“So you think whoever did this knew it would be a bad look for you because of your connection? Our connection?”
Burke nodded silently.
“Well, the only one we haven’t touched is Jose Gonzalez of Sea Sailor Whiskey, but he’s a pretty straight-laced guy. Kind of charming, but I don’t think he’s much of anything. Here, let me look with you.”
I pulled up his bio on Google through Sea Sailor Whiskey’s website and gave it to Burke.
Immediately, his face went from neutral to a bit concerned.
“What? You know him?” I said, nervousness tingling through my body.
“No… no,” he said. “But, he looks like Diablo.”
“Diablo?”
“President of the DMs up to a couple of months ago,” Burke said. “Trace killed him. But now Mercs are getting revenge by coming at us everywhere.”
I didn’t want to be the one to say it… but, honestly, Jose had a very typical Hispanic look and I almost wondered if Burke was just imagining things. I had no idea what this Diablo character looked like, so it was entirely possible that Burke’s worst fears were more than justified, but it just seemed like the kind of thing where Burke was trying to put a square peg in a round hole.
“I will do more research on him,” Burke said. “Likely the one I suspect the most.”
“OK,” I said, concerned about the idea of the Saints crashing a meeting while Sea Sailor Whiskey and I were still a partnership. “Just make me a promise.”
Burke nodded.
“Jose and I are still in active partnership,” I said. “Until you know beyond a reasonable doubt that he’s connected to the Mercs, please don’t do anything. I’ll keep an eye out myself and be more suspicious of him, but if we accuse him of something and we’re wrong, it’s going to be the worst kind of move for me. My reputation will be in tatters, and my firm will never get a client again. OK?”
I could tell that Burke wasn’t a fan of my request. He came from the world of act first, ask questions later, if ever. In his world, if someone wronged the Saints, there wasn’t a judge, jury, and executioner—there was just the biker, and he rarely did any deliberation when he acted.
But I also knew that, after tonight, after the connection we’d made, Burke wasn’t going to deny my request. He wasn’t going to like it very much, but he was going to keep it in mind.
“OK,” he said. “But I’m not going to wait if we prove it.”
“Understood,” I said.
So that was it, then. My current client, the charming Jose Gonzalez, might just be the one who had sent the Mercs to my office to blast the store. I bit my lip, wondering if I could have picked up any signs.
If Jose was the one doing this…
“Can you give me a ride back to the office?” I said. “And then make sure I don’t get followed down the highway?”
I wanted to ask him to follow me back to my house, but if he had refused me in the comfort of his own clubhouse, he was going to refuse me in my home. I found it amusing to have the roles reversed, to be the one who was now trying to get sex while he was the one preaching patience. Amusing enough that I’m going to fantasize about you all night while I touch myself.
“Yes,” he said.
He rose, extended his hand, and led me to his bike.
I don’t know what it was about this particular bike ride, but I had never felt safer in my life than when I was clinging to Burke. That first ride had almost scared me to death on the way, and it was only in the second half that I felt free—and even that was more of a feeling of settling in than anything else.
Now? I truly trusted Burke. His word was gold to me. He promised to protect me, and so all of the fears I had had on the first ride, all of the butterflies, all of the adrenaline rush… it faded. I just felt an odd sort of contentment and peace with my arms wrapped around him.
The only downside to this was that the ride was over almost in the snap of a finger, and when I pointed out my car for Burke to drop me off, it felt over way too soon. But there will be another day soon enough. Maybe even tomorrow, depending on how things go.
I hopped off the bike, turned, and put my hands on his broad shoulders. Even with him on the bike and me standing, he was still taller than me. It was kind of ridiculous, but all I could do was laugh about it.
“I will see you soon,” I said. “And I will keep my promise.”
Burke, again, sweetly smiled.
“And me too.”
With that, I gave him one last extended kiss, one last prolonged smooch, before I pulled away with an enormous grin and headed for my car. I drove out of the parking lot, Burke on my tail, until we went separate directions on the highway.
* * *
So… that actually happened.
And I wasn’t even that drunk!
When I woke up in my home the next morning, I was thankful to have avoided a hangover of any kind. But that didn’t mean I wasn’t still a little surprised at how everything had gone last night.
In the span of a little over a month, Burke had gone from an adversary in my marketing efforts to a man that I deeply, soulfully trusted. He had gone from the stereotype of a biker to a real man whom I had an immense attraction to.
And I had gone from someone who had continued to play up the bit as the devoted businesswoman who had no time for love to someone who was beginning to realize that a healthy balance could be struck. I was never going to give up my business for Burke—God no, I had worked far too hard and sacrificed far too much to just swing myself into the wind like a lovesick teenager and let Burke catch me.
But maybe I could have both. Obviously, I couldn’t work as hard as I had used to. But maybe by filling this part of my soul that had previously not been touched, I would be more focused and more productive at work.
Maybe.
I started my day by sending a company-wide email alerting them that our building had been attacked and we would have security officers on standby at the front entrance at all times. I explained that I would have sent the email last night, but obligations with the authorities required me to hold off on sending anything until I had finished with them. I suppose that it was probably true in one sense, but it was definitely walking a tightrope of some kind.
I then headed over to the office, trying not to keep checking my phone to see if Burke had sent a text. He had sent one when he got back to the clubhouse, thanking me for a lovely evening, but that was it.
It was very keeping in his character, so I knew I should have accepted it and focused on my workday. But you put some type of spell on me, Burke.
When I parked and came up, I spent more time than usual on the first floor, trying to make sure everyone was able to work and not too disturbed by what had happened. Thankfully, though some employees were nervous, they felt they had strength in numbers, and the presence of the security ensured they wouldn’t ever feel too unsafe. I thanked all of them for coming in before I headed up to my office.
Inside, I checked my schedule. I was surprised to realize that I had forgotten that Jose had a ten o’clock meeting with me. Thankfully, I had plenty of time to prepare and go over the results so far, and so for the next two hours, I did just that, making sure that I could give him an effective presentation about the data to date.
About two minutes before, my secretary alerted me that Jose had arrived. I had her send him up, and I waited outside my office to greet him.
I did my best to clear my mind of what Burke had suggested the night before about him. I didn’t know that he was connected to the Mercs, and even then, that assumption had been based largely on the idea that he just looked like the former leader of the Mercs. That was ridiculous.
Except… hadn’t Jose said some things before about the Saints causing him trouble? Wasn’t there something in there
about how the Saints had caused his family grief?
Maybe I was making things up, but I could have sworn that at one point he had made a complaint about him.
Jose stepped out of the elevator and held his hands wide as he walked forward.
“My dearest Megan,” he said.
I put my hand out to shake his, but instead, he hugged me and kissed me on both cheeks. I tried to gently push back, not to make my rejection so overt, but I was a little perturbed.
“Are you OK?” he said. “I heard what happened last night. I’m so sorry; I just wanted to make sure you are OK.”
“I’m… fine,” I said, still a little stunned at just how aggressive he had been in kissing me. “It’s a tough day, but we’ll get through. Come on in.”
“Yes, of course.”
Now I was feeling nervous around Jose, and it had absolutely nothing to do with if he was associated with the Mercs or not. I’d always felt he leaned a bit much toward flirtatious in our encounters, but I could have always said I might have misinterpreted it. There was no misinterpreting a kiss, though.
I made sure that he planted himself in that chair across from my desk and that I, too, sat on the other side of the desk, my ass practically glued to the seat, before I began.
“So you still want your store in North Hollywood, right?”
“Yes,” he said. “And I’m coming to also think that I would like something in Green Hills.”
Oh, motherfucker. Burke was right.
That’s a gut reaction, but this is just starting to pile up. If he is this guy’s brother…
“Are you sure?” I said. “With all due respect, Jose, one store is plenty. You can make it like a destination, and—”
“Sweetie,” he said. My eyes went wide, not even trying to hide the shock I had at Jose just brashly flirting with me like so. “I appreciate the concern. I sincerely do. I apologize for my reaction last time when you gave me business advice. But this is something I have thought through and discussed with my investors, and I feel quite confident that this is something to help me realize my goals.”
