Fire Inside

by Kristen Ashley

  I let that go.

  “How did it go wrong?” I asked, and he leaned further toward me.

  “You don’t have enough time for me to explain all the ways it went wrong, that’s how wrong it went. Honest to God, spent a lot of time thinkin’ about it and I do not have any fuckin’ clue what I was thinkin’ about, starting shit up with her. She was never sweet. She looked good. She was great in bed. She doesn’t hold a candle to you but, until you, she was the best I had. But told you, I like a challenge and that was Mitzi. Her parents were assholes, both of them, hated their daughter, hated the life I led, made sure we both knew it. Freaked me out because it was like Mitzi fed on that, got off on it. Figured it out too late that one of the reasons she was with me was because she hated them right back, maybe more, and she got a kick out of shoving me right up their asses.”

  That was not good, either, and it did make Mitzi sound like a bitch in a way that leaned toward the c-word.

  I felt my brows rise on my query of, “Seriously?”

  “Serious as shit. She was a rebel in her fuckin’ thirties. Hadn’t found her way. Hadn’t found herself. Still stickin’ it to her parents like she was a teenager throwin’ a shit fit because they didn’t like the posters of the bands she had on her walls and, I’ll repeat, doin’ this in her fuckin’ thirties. Bitches that hang around bikers, babe, you gotta be careful. I wasn’t.”

  “What does that mean?” I asked carefully, seeing as I was sort of a “bitch” who hung around bikers.

  “You got to have sat with Brick after he was fucked over enough times to know,” he answered.

  I had, indeed, sat sipping a beer while Brick did shots after a woman broke his heart, and I did it more than enough times.

  “Well, yes,” I admitted.

  “They take advantage of a tough guy with a soft heart. That’s what he picks. Strung out, needing to be fixed, unfixable; he gets fucked in the end. Then there are the ones who have an idea about bikers and they got problems. They think they’re gonna get worked over, torn down, dominated. They want that shit and I know you’re gonna think that’s all kinds of whacked but it’s also the goddamned truth. Had a woman in my bed, honest to Christ, babe, she asked me to punch her. Punch her. Not spank her, not even smack her, which I wouldn’t do, but fuckin’ hit her. Begged me for it. That shit got her ass kicked out of my bed.”

  “Oh my God,” I breathed, staring at him, unable to take this information in.

  “Not fuckin’ with you,” he told me, going back to his sandwich.

  “I… that’s… that’s crazy,” I told him.

  He took a bite and his eyes came to me as he muttered, “Yep.”

  He finished chewing, swallowed and continued his tales of lunacy.

  “That stuff you said the other night about where old ladies fit in the life of a biker, club then bike and all that shit, women are drawn to that. They don’t think enough of themselves to find a man who thinks the world of them so they look for a man who’ll fit them in kinda close to the top and they’re down with that. They think that’s makin’ out good. Others are so weak all they wanna do is party, get high, get laid, and lay everything on their old man’s shoulders, so they can keep partying, getting high and getting laid. Shit’s whacked. They’re all over. Next hog roast, honey, I’ll point them out. They come back again and again hopin’ one of the brothers is not gonna read them and know what they’re buyin’ if they go there. Fuckin’ crazy.”

  “Was Mitzi like that?” I asked, digging into my chips.

  “No, Mitzi was just a bitch on a mission ’cause her head was messed up and I didn’t spot that either. Didn’t like her folks because they didn’t like me but, outside of being judgmental pains in the ass who hated a daughter who hated them back, they’re decent enough folk who I think genuinely wondered where they went wrong with their girl. And not sayin’ Mitzi pulled the wool over my eyes bein’ sugar sweet. Just didn’t know what was under all that hard but I did know I wanted to find out. What I found was, I’d hit spots of soft that felt good, warm, lasted awhile, and I thought I’d struck true. Then the hard would close around again and I couldn’t breathe. In the end, there weren’t any soft spots left to find.”

  “That sounds awful, Hop,” I whispered.

  “It wasn’t a fuckuva lot of fun, Lanie.” He did not whisper.

  I licked my lower lip and gave it time before I told him honestly and quietly, “You know, people talk.”

  He held my eyes. “I know.”

  “They don’t talk much,” I shared.

  “I know that, too.”

  “But they said it was ugly.”

  He drew in breath then stated, “Yeah, it was and what this is, over sandwiches in your office, is not even half of it. I’ll tell you because you’re with me, you gotta know. But I’ll say, lady, I’ll tell you when the time is right for you and this is not it. I’m not keepin’ shit from you. But things you gotta know for the now, my kids are good. I’d rather their lives be steadier but I went back to her more than once to give them that and got nothin’ but a rough ride when I did. They didn’t need to see their dad go through that. But in the end, she fucked me, babe. It was not pretty and you do not fuck me. You can be a bitch. You can bust my balls. I’m not gonna lie down for it, but there’s a lot a man will do for his children. But never, ever fuck me. She fucked me. We cope by limiting our time in each other’s space to near to nothing. It works. For you, that’s the end for now.”

  When he stopped speaking, I held his eyes.

  Then, hesitantly, I asked, “Are you… looking for soft spots with me?”

  It was then he held my eyes for one beat… two… three.

  Then he threw his head back and roared with laughter.

  I felt my eyes narrow.

  “Hop,” I called.

  He kept laughing, his head now bowed, hand up, waving at me to give him a moment.

  Yes. Apparently what I’d asked was that funny.

  “Hop!” I snapped. His head came up and his eyes caught mine. “I was actually being serious,” I informed him.

  “I know,” he choked out.

  “Stop laughing!” I clipped, short and angry, and he abruptly stopped.

  Just as abruptly, he pushed out of his chair and rounded my desk, and before I knew what he was doing he was bent into me, hands on either side of my head, his face all I could see.

  “You put yourself in front of bullets for your fiancé,” he whispered and my breath stopped. “Baby, you don’t have any hard spots.”

  “I—”

  His hands on my head pressed in gently just as his forehead came to rest on mine.

  “You don’t, and just so you know, that is not why I’m with you or why I want you, the fact that you’re the kind of woman who did that for him. What you did was beautiful, the ultimate, but it’s who you are that interests me.”

  He had to stop.

  “Hop, you need to take your hands off me and step back.”

  “Worried what your staff will think?”

  “I don’t care what they think,” I retorted. “But you’re being sweet again, saying nice things again and getting to me, and I need a break and I want to finish my sandwich.”

  “I’m getting to you?”

  “Step back.”

  His eyes held mine a moment before he muttered, “I’m getting to you.”

  I rolled my eyes.

  “Babe,” he called.

  I rolled my eyes back.

  “Wanna know part of who you are that interests me?”

  “Are you going to say something nice?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then no.”

  I watched his eyes smile.

  Then he started to speak and, per usual, he did it against my wishes.

  “Part of who you are that interests me is that you don’t care what they think. I walk into your cush offices, you say ‘hey, honey’ and don’t even fuckin’ blink. Wearin’ motorcycle boots or a suit, it’s all the sa
me to you. And a woman like you, so knockout gorgeous, most movie stars would give their left nut just for you to walk up a red carpet on their arm, a banker’s daughter who sleeps in unbelievably soft sheets and drives a sweet ride ninety-nine percent of the population can’t afford acts like that. Now that interests me.”

  Okay, I was back to him getting to me.

  “I’ve decided to be un-biker-friendly,” I announced, and watched his eyes smile again.

  “Too late.”

  “Figures,” I mumbled.

  “Right. I’m here, kiss me, we’ll finish our sandwiches and then I’ll let you get back to work.”

  “Hop, I’ve got pastrami breath.”

  “So?”

  “It might be gross.”

  Another smile. “It won’t be gross.”

  “It’ll be gross.”

  “Kiss me.”

  “No.”

  “Kiss me.”

  “No!”

  Hop slanted his head and kissed me.

  I kissed him back.

  He let me go, we finished our sandwiches and he kissed me again before he let me get back to work.

  I got looks all afternoon and I didn’t care because I wouldn’t normally care, but also because all I could think about was Hop getting to me.

  And that I sort of wanted him to bring me lunch the next day.

  And that I not so sort of wished he’d be in my bed that night.

  Alas, Thursday, I got nothing but a phone call. I was busy with work. Hop was busy with Chaos business and his kids.

  But Friday morning, about two and a half seconds after I got the call, I turned to my cell, snatched it up, and called Hop.

  “Lady,” he answered.

  “We got the account!” I shrieked.

  I could actually tell the smile in his voice was huge when he replied, “Good news, baby.”

  “Great news. Fabulous news. Christmas bonuses for the staff news,” I corrected.

  Hop was silent.

  When this silence spread, I called, “Hop? Did I lose you?”

  “You absolutely did not lose me.”

  No smile in his voice but the rough tone of it that communicated colossal things made my body go completely still.

  “You work your tail off for that account, your first thought is Christmas bonuses for your staff,” he stated.

  I said nothing, just concentrated on breathing and ignoring the warmth shrouding my heart.

  “No hard, Lanie. All soft,” he whispered like that meant everything to him.

  Everything.

  I again said nothing.

  “And fuck, but I like it,” he finished.

  It meant everything.

  “Hop,” I whispered.

  “Wish we could celebrate. We’ll do it next week. Yeah?”

  I closed my eyes.

  Then I opened them and said, “Yeah.”

  I did this because I wanted to celebrate, I wanted to know how Hop celebrated, and because he was getting to me.

  “Lettin’ you go,” he replied.

  I didn’t want him to let me go. I wanted his voice in my ear. I wanted that warmth he gave me to stay close around my heart.

  I didn’t say this.

  I said, “Okay, Hop.”

  “Later, lady.”

  “Bye, honey.”

  We disconnected and, without a big new client to concentrate on, I was unable to keep him off my mind.

  Also unwilling.

  And my thoughts didn’t go to planning how to end things.

  They went to how Hopper Kincaid would celebrate his old lady getting a big new client.

  Now, I standing in my bedroom, staring at my bag and facing a weekend with my parents and trying to train my thoughts on Vail, God’s country, which was gorgeous.

  Suddenly I sensed movement that shouldn’t be there since I was alone in my house and I jumped, whipping my head around to see Hop walking into my room.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked as he moved to me.

  He made it to me, his hand lifting, fingers curling around the side of my neck, thumb extended which he used at my jaw to push my head back as his dipped down and his lips and ’tache brushed my lips.

  When he lifted his head, he answered, “Wanted to see you, check you’re okay, and someone has to haul your suitcase down the stairs.”

  That warmth hit my heart again.

  He wanted to see me, check I was okay and, he didn’t live in Siberia and take a flight to do the deed, but he did go out of his way just to carry my suitcase down the stairs.

  “I can carry a suitcase, Hop,” I told him.

  “Babe, you were at Hotel Monaco for two nights and your bag weighed half a ton.”

  I felt my lips quirk as I said, “It didn’t weigh half a ton.”

  He grinned at me. “Close.”

  I grinned back.

  His hand at my neck gave me a squeeze as his eyes got serious. “You good?”

  “God’s country,” I replied and his grin came back.

  “Yeah,” he muttered, looked at the bed then at me. “This good?”

  I nodded.

  He pulled me slightly to him and then pushed me gently back, swaying me with his hand at my neck before he let me go and bent to the bed. Flipping the case closed, he zipped it and hauled it off the bed.

  I took one last look around, checking for lights left on or anything that I might have forgotten, and followed him downstairs.

  He dropped the bag by my front door and turned to me. “Half a ton.”

  I smiled up at him. “Hardly.”

  His hand snaked out, grabbed me around the neck and pulled me to him. My head tipped back. His came down. My arms wrapped around his shoulders. His free arm wrapped tight around my waist. His lips hit mine. Mine opened.

  And we kissed, wet and deep, for a long time.

  Hop broke it, moving away an inch. “Leavin’ now, gettin’ the kids, headin’ up. Text you in the morning where we’re gonna be for breakfast so you can get your folks there.”

  I nodded. “Drive safe.”

  “Got kids, always do.”

  I smiled again and his eyes dropped to my mouth before coming back to mine.

  “Still gettin’ to you?” His question was whisper soft.

  No.

  The honest answer to that was, he’d already gotten to me.

  I dipped my chin and pressed my face to his throat.

  His hand at the back of my neck slid up into my hair as I felt his lips against the top of my head.

  “Like that answer, lady.”

  My arms around his shoulders got tight.

  “God’s country, Lanie,” he said against my hair.

  I nodded against his throat. “God’s country.”

  I felt his lips leave my hair as his hand at my head gave me a squeeze. I got the message, pulled back and looked up at him.

  Hop touched his mouth to mine then lifted up and touched his lips to my forehead. He moved back, his eyes caught mine, he gave me a sexy smile that engaged the lines at the sides of his eyes then he let me go, turned to the door and disappeared behind it.

  I went to the plantation shutters, slid them slightly open and looked out, watching him saunter to his bike, throw a leg over, and roar away.

  He’d come all the way to my house to carry one suitcase down one flight of stairs.

  And to check on me.

  I slapped the shutters closed, leaned my forehead against them and smiled.

  Chapter Seven

  One Way or Another

  My cell on the nightstand clattered, waking me.

  Sleepily, I reached out, looked at the display, touched it with my thumb and put it to my ear, a smile curving my lips.

  “Hey,” I greeted quietly.

  “How’d it go last night?” Hop asked.

  He’d been worried about me.

  God, God… I liked that.

  “It went,” I answered.

  “My mouth is between your
legs.”

  I blinked at the pillows. “What?”

  “Fuck, you taste like honey,” he growled.

  My legs shifted under the sheets.

  I knew what this was. It was an excellent way to take my mind off things and I wanted it.

  “Hop—”

  “Touch yourself, lady,” he whispered.

  Without delay, I slid my hand in my panties.

  I must have made some noise because Hop was growling again in my ear. “My tongue’s right there.”

  Oh God, this was good.

  “No,” he stated. “I’m sucking.”

  Oh God, this was good.

  “Baby,” I breathed.

  “Quiet, lady, and listen to me.”

  I did as he said and miraculously, because usually when I did this my fingers didn’t work, I needed a toy, Hop achieved spectacular results with taking my mind off things.

  After I came down, I heard silence.

  “Do you want me to keep going? Give the same to you?” I offered, my voice sated, husky.

  “Don’t come on my gut, babe.”

  He had noted this before but, in these circumstances, I found this was interesting and surprising.

  “You don’t, uh…?” I trailed off.

  “I do but not with a woman.”

  “Um, just pointing out, honey, I’m not with you.”

  “You on the phone?”

  I smiled and answered, “Yeah.”

  “Then you’re with me,” he stated.

  Even on the phone, I was with him.

  Nice.

  “I gave you that, you make it up to me Monday night,” he finished.

  “I can do that,” I replied.

  “I know you can,” he told me. I could hear the grin in his voice as he went on to say where he’d be with the kids for breakfast and when. “You think you can get your folks there?”

  We were going to “bump into each other”, friends coincidentally on the same mountain at the same time, all so Hop could have my back without my parents knowing he was.

  “I’ll do my best.”

  “Do that, babe. See you in a few.”

  “Okay, and… Hop?”

  “Right here.”

  “Uh, thanks for the orgasm.”

  He didn’t hide the laughter in his voice when he replied, “Anything you need, lady, I’m there for you one way or another.”