Lips On My Heart

by M J Marino

  Distraction, I need a distraction. “We’ve got some time before the food comes out. Would you like to see the blueprints and virtual tour?”

  Atlas—I mean, Maceo—had requested my services as an architectural engineer after he viewed my portfolio on my website, stating my edgy designs were exactly what he was looking for. He wanted me to build him a giant housing complex he referred to as a ‘clubhouse’ for the Mercy Ravens MC crew.

  “Please, I can’t wait to see what you got,” he says in a husky voice. The sexual innuendo is not lost on me.

  Oh Lord, help me.

  Doing my best to ignore the rush of blood swirling in my lower belly, I open my laptop, plug in my flash drive, and pull up the plans for the MC headquarters. I start with the tour because it’s easier to visualize a design when you’re walking through the program. Maceo leans in, eagerly watching and listening to my detailed layout.

  “I got the impression you wanted more of an apartment atmosphere with a common area, instead of a dormitory. The outside is all clean lines, rock, metal, and cedar. You walk into the grand entrance to a wall of local stone, which directs you around either side to the main living room—or gathering area—which will be filled with several distressed leather couches and light walnut end tables. The stone wall functions as a fireplace on the living room side, and a privacy barrier from the front door looking in.”

  Maceo nods in approval. “Good.”

  “To the left of the gathering area is the kitchen, which will have dark flat panel cabinets, stainless steel appliances, brass finishes, and white quartz countertops. We could do concrete counters in a lighter finish, if you would prefer. Next to the kitchen is the open dining area, with one long banquet table and industrial metal chairs. To the right of the gathering area, is what I call the billiards room; two pool tables, a couple dart boards, a poker table, and a full bar with TVs mounted on the walls. Plenty of high tables and stools for entertaining.”

  Maceo grunts his endorsement, and he sucks off some butter on his thumb from the toast. I flush, my dirty mind recalling when he sucked my juices off his fingers. Witnessing him taste me with desire flooding his eyes was like a shot of pure lust to my core. Remembering this makes me want his pierced tongue on my sex.

  Jesus, I’m throbbing. I cross my legs, trying to combat the ache between my thighs.

  I clear the lump in my throat. “The back of the first floor will be reserved for a large conference room, with a full tech area for your, um, meetings.”

  What possible meetings with state-of-the-art equipment a MC gang might have is beyond me, but Maceo demanded it and I always deliver.

  “The rest of the main level will be dedicated for offices, yours being the largest, as well as two separate bathrooms.

  “The entire first floor will have matted gray walls, plenty of windows for light, but tinted on the outside for extra privacy. Ebony-stained trim and mission-style doors. And the acid-stained concrete floors will hold up all the heavy boots tracking through,” I say as I look around at the huge members of the MC, taking in the women hanging on them. “—or high heels.”

  My hypocritical thought is not lost on me. I have no right to judge these women, especially after what I did this morning. I shake my head in self-disgust.

  Maceo raises an eyebrow and leans on his massive inked forearm, giving me nowhere to look but into his intense eyes. “The only heels I care about are the ones on your dainty feet. I don’t give a fuck about anyone else’s, or who the fuck they’re attached to. You know, you’re really cute when you get all jealous, like a kitten showing her claws.”

  “I’m not jealous,” I say too quickly, but my heart goes pitter-patter at his confession.

  He smirks. “Right. Just like I wasn’t jealous hearing my brothers compliment your fine ass when you waltzed in here. Wearing those skyscraper heels, showing off your killer calves, and pushing your perfect tush into their grab zone. Nah, I wasn’t jealous at all.”

  Holy hell, that’s hot! Blood rushes to my cheeks and I clear my throat.

  “Moving on to the second and third floors. That’s where the individual bedrooms are, twenty in all, with en-suite bathrooms and sitting areas, ten per floor. You said you wanted separate spaces, so I assumed it included everything, seeing as you referred to the clubhouse as a home. You said you’re all one big family, but still need detox space from each other.”

  “We do need separation. I’m thirty fucking years old, and I want my own space with something larger than a twin bed to stretch out on. All of us are crammed into a rented three-bedroom ranch we’ve been using as a club headquarters for the past year. You’re looking at sixteen people living under fifteen-hundred square feet.

  “We’re sick of renting, tired of moving from town to town, and living in motels. I decided to stay put ‘till I found us our permanent home, but there are no houses large enough to accommodate our numbers. That’s why I purchased the hundred acres to build our MC clubhouse.

  “We’re a family. Some of us, this is the only family we’ve ever known. But as much as I love my crew—my brothers—I fucking need my space. I like this layout a lot,” he admits.

  My heart hurts a little when he confesses how the MC is the only family many of them have. It’s incredibly tragic and it makes me curious about Maceo’s family life, if he has one outside of this club.

  I clear the emotion from my throat. “The bathrooms will have black penny tiles on the floor and large gray subway tiles in the showers. Same cabinets as the kitchen, with similar counters and finishes. Each bedroom will be able to hold a king-size bed, dresser, and two floating nightstands. Recessed lights will be in all the corners, the exception being the bedrooms, which will have an additional ceiling fan light. As far as flooring, I would like to stick to softer surfaces like carpet, but a nice hardwood in a birch or maple finish would be easier to clean, which might be ideal.”

  “Nice,” he compliments. “Definitely hardwoods on the upper floors. I’m all for easier cleaning.”

  “Noted,” I say, adding it to the plans before returning to the tour.

  “Now, as a bonus, I’ve added a lower level with individual storage lockers for each member, and an industrial-size laundry room with multiple washers, dryers, stationary tubs, and folding tables. The pièce de résistance is a full gym with weights, benches, treadmills, punching bags, and a boxing ring. I know you didn’t request it, but you mentioned every member was ex-military. I gambled on you all still training and being in top condition.”

  Maceo slaps his hand on the table, making me practically jump into his arms. “Fuck yeah, that’s awesome!”

  “Okay, good,” I say, a little surprised by his excited reaction. “I added a large outdoor patio with a grill station and pavilion. I wasn’t sure if you wanted an open pit for bonfires, or if you wanted an outdoor fireplace. I’ve made two options for you to view and pick from.”

  “Outdoor fire pit, hands down, but larger,” he says confidently.

  I quickly make the changes he requested and have him review the results. “Perfect,” he says.

  “Well, this pretty much wraps up the house. Is there anything I’ve forgotten, or is there more you would like to add?” I ask.

  He nods. “A shop.”

  I pull up a new tab and start messing around with the program. “By shop you mean a place to work with tools, like maybe a pole shed?”

  “Yeah. We need a place to work on the bikes, trucks, and SUVs.”

  “A mechanics garage?”

  He smiles broadly, happy I’m catching on to his requests. “Exactly.”

  “With all the bells and whistles?”

  “Quote me and I’ll decide from there.”

  “Give me a moment.” I focus on the program and add in a workshop. Luckily, I already designed one of these six months ago, helping me breeze through the process. Bonnie comes through and drops off more food before disappearing again. I work while eating my breakfast.

  Before long,
I have something which is sure to meet his expectations. “This is a fairly large shop, but considering the number of vehicles you own, I believe this will more than meet your needs.”

  Maceo leans over to view my proposal and smirks. “Damn. You added a hydraulic lift, too.”

  “If we go with this plan, I’d like to keep it to the left of the property. It’s built into the cliff and obscured from view of the road. I’d like to maintain the aesthetic, making the house the center of attention. We can make a circular drive, having you round the front of the house before heading to the shop, which will still leave plenty of green space in front. I also want the garage black with either a red metal roof or the reverse, seeing as the MC colors on your cuts are black and red.”

  “I’m good with that. Whichever you decide will look best since you’re the designer.”

  I nod and implement my changes into the program. “Not like I want you to go for broke, but what about adding a couple garages along here to keep your vehicles out of the elements in the same color palette?”

  “Protecting the bikes and other vehicles will definitely be a plus.”

  I add those in while we both eat, and I work.

  “What’s the damage, Pixie?”

  I blow out a breath. This is always the hardest part of working with an individual because of the sticker shock. More often than not, I’m forced back to the drawing board, slicing and dicing my original plans to fit the needs of my client while still keeping their wallets happy.

  I turn my computer to show him the expense report with the full total at the very bottom. Maceo reads through it and takes a bite of his omelet before nodding. “Looks good to me. When do we start?”

  I blink. There’s no way I heard him correctly. I quoted him for damn near five million dollars and he didn’t bat an eye. In a designer’s world, this is a dream come true. “Maceo, you did see the total, correct?”

  He lowers his dark eyes to mine. “Yes, and after all the shit I made you add, it’s still under the number I had in the back of my head. Where do I sign?”

  Holy fuck. I did it. I landed my first multimillion-dollar project, and I didn’t need to fight with my client to design it the way I wanted. I pull up the electronic contract, and he signs away his life on the dotted line.

  He winks at me. “Looks like you’re stuck with me for the next few months.”

  I’m giddy to the point I could kiss him. As if my body agrees with my subconscious, I catch myself leaning in. Maceo’s coal eyes go wide, and he wraps his arm around me, pulling me flush against him and meeting me halfway to seal the deal with his lips.

  God, his kiss is like water in a desert, and I can’t stop drinking him in. His tongue skims across mine, and my libido jumps to new heights when his firm calloused hands are painfully perfect on my soft body. The musky scent of sex on his skin doesn’t cover up the woodsy scent underneath, and it all acts like kindling to the fire burning low inside of me.

  How is it possible I’ve missed his soft lips against mine when they were on me an hour ago? Once again, he has me moaning, and he’s taking full advantage of my open mouth by dancing his tongue with mine.

  I’m too caught up in the moment. It’s not until the diner erupts in claps and whistles from the other MC members that I recognize my mistake, and I violently pull away from him, pushing myself up and out of the circular booth.

  Flustered, I grab my purse and laptop, before I remember I’m a damn professional. “I’ll email you the final details and your copy of the contract later today. If my contractor can get on board and have our crew lined up, we will be breaking ground next week. Start to finish should take four months, weather permitting.”

  I spin on my heels and haul ass out the door. I’ve got my car door open and I’m throwing my shit into the passenger side when I’m spun around by my waist. Maceo slams my car door, pinning me up against it.

  “Nu-uh, Pixie. You can’t run away this time,” Maceo says, pushing his chest against my small breasts, caging me in.

  “I’m sorry. It was a mistake to kiss you back there,” I say, breathless.

  Maceo runs his nose along the side of my neck, making my nipples go rock-hard and poke through my shirt. “A mistake,” he echoes. “We need to make more mistakes if they turn out like this morning.”

  I gulp. “I don’t get involved with clients. I never have and never will. This morning at the preserve, I didn’t know who you were. But I agree the kiss in the diner was entirely my fault, and I take full responsibility. I apologize if I misled you, but I will not jeopardize this business deal. Therefore, I cannot be involved with you. Plus, I’m not interested.”

  Maceo’s dark chuckle against my ear is his only response, and he pulls his face back to look in my eyes. My mind goes blank and I lean in. He covers the distance in a nanosecond and presses his lips against mine. More than anything, I want to continue this kiss, but this is wrong. I turn my head as I’m about to give in to him.

  “Stop fighting this, Josephine,” he growls with a smoldering glare. “And don’t give me the ‘no client dating’ bullshit when you’re the one initiating everything with me.”

  I balk. “I have not!”

  “You made the first move on the trail, you kicked it off again when you leaned into me in the diner, and you just did it again here by your car. For someone who says she’s not interested, your actions say otherwise,” he counters, smug, ripping a hole through my delusion instantly.

  Shit. He’s right. I am the one who started all of this.

  I’m desperate now. I know my will is disintegrating the longer I’m connected to him, and I simply can’t allow it. My one and only relationship was a shitshow and my career is at risk. I cannot gamble on a high-risk relationship with a former Navy SEAL biker club president.

  “I have another appointment,” I lie. He’s the only client I have right now.

  Maceo’s eyes narrow at me suspiciously. He has no way of knowing if I’m lying or not, but the way his eyes are scrutinizing me, I’m not entirely sure he can’t tell.

  I try a new approach. “Hades has a date with the groomers.” Not an appointment with a client, but one for my dog, which is totally true. He’s well overdue for a bath and nail trimming.

  Maceo gives me a pointed look, like he’s calling me out on my bullshit, but he takes a step back from our embrace and opens the car door for me. I slide into the seat, jumping when he leans across me to buckle me in. The gesture is totally sweet, but completely inappropriate for the ‘no client relationship’ rule.

  Before I can object, he breathes me in and presses his lips to my temple—fuck me if it doesn’t make me want to pull him into the car and have my way with him.

  Stop giving him openings, Josephine!

  He steps out and gives me his panty-dropping smile, making my heart do back flips again. “I’m picking you up tonight and we’re going out.”

  “I told you, I don’t—” I start.

  “Fuck your rules. Fuck my rules. The rules are null and void now, don’t you think? We’re going out, we’re going to have a great time, and we’re going to see where the night leads us.”

  “Is it your norm to turn into a commanding asshole?” I snap.

  Maceo barks a laugh. “Stop shooting me down, and maybe I won’t turn into such an asshole. Come hell or high water, we’re going out tonight.”

  Irritated, I turn away from him. “Why do you even want to bother with me?”

  Maceo looks at me, curious, like he’s trying to figure out this exact question himself before smiling. “You mean aside from the awesome sex?”

  Typical guy. “Maceo—” I try again.

  But he puts a thick finger to my lips to hush me. “Give me your business card.”

  Confused, my brows pinch together, but I reach into my purse anyway and hand him one.

  He takes it from my fingers, looks down at it, and meets my gaze with a sinful smile. “See you at six.” He closes my door and swaggers back into the
diner, my eyes glued on his fine ass.

  He doesn’t have a clue where I live.

  Quickly, I start my car and hope he doesn’t turn around before I get out of here.

  Chapter Three

  Maceo

  Strutting like a cock, I know she’s watching me walk all the way back toward the restaurant, because I can see her in the reflection of the diner windows. It makes my heart race knowing my little pixie is checking me out.

  Back inside, I’m greeted with back slaps and more whistles from my crew. I walk up to the counter to pay Bonnie for our breakfast. As I wait for my change, my mind drifts back to the little pixie.

  I knew I would find her and have her back by my side when she drove off this morning, but fuck, I had no clue it would be in the following hour. Imagine my surprise when she twirled around and locked eyes with me. Shock was written all over her face, followed by the wanton desire she desperately tried to conceal. Her eyes traveled all over me before narrowing. She took in my leather cut, homing in on my club name.

  Well, tie me up and spank me happy.

  My little pixie, Josephine, was Jo Holland. How fucking ironic is it fate was already working to bring us together for the past three weeks?

  We’d only been able to speak via email the past few weeks while I worked a job in Colombia, I had no idea the ‘Jo’ in my head was actually a woman—a smoking-hot woman who fucked me better than my wildest dreams could have imagined.

  Punk’s voice carrying across the diner brings me back to the present. “Damn, Atlas. Who was the sweet thing?”

  Smiling like a damn fool, I decide to fuck with them. “That there—” I point at her white Subaru speeding out of the lot. “—is my future wife, gentlemen. Mind your fucking tongues when you’re talking about your first lady.”

  The diner erupts in thunderous laugher and more whoops and whistles. They know I’m joking since I’ve never been serious about a woman before, but I have to admit, keeping Josephine permanently feels right. It scares the fuck out of me.

  Gauge is at my side, leaning in, letting me hear him over the ruckus. “When the hell did you find time to fuck our architect? You only met her this morning,” he says with envy.