by Brook Wilder
“Ow. Fuck!” Honey exclaimed as pain shot through his hand. He’d been trying to eavesdrop and had stopped paying attention for one moment. He’d tripped on the rubber mat behind the bar and the glass, already old and cracked, had shattered with the jarring motion and sliced through the palm of his right hand.
He glanced up but both men were staring at him now, the shorter one in confusion and the other one, Buck, in suspicion. Honey plastered on a forced smile.
“Better go get this cleaned up,” he said hastily as he made his way to the back room. The whole way there he cursed himself for acting like a fool. He needed to learn with that asshole Viper was up to and he wasn’t going to do it by drawing the suspicion of all the new bikers he recruited.
Honey was still chastising himself, quickly wrapping a small towel around his hand just to stem the dripping flow of blood when all the hairs on the back of his neck stood up on end. That feeling, the feeling that he knew so well, the one that told him that something bad was about to happen, flooded through his gut. A second later he heard it.
“…and just what, precisely, do you think to presume that you are doing, sir?!” It was a feminine voice. A familiar, feminine voice and with just the towel wrapped around his wound he rushed back out into the main room of the bar.
The impact of seeing Elle cut through him as it always did but it didn’t slow his feet. If anything, it only made him move faster as he watched her, somehow, glare down her pert little nose at the big, burly biker named Buck.
“…How dare you!” she gasped, turning away from him in affronted disgust but then Buck made the biggest mistake of his life. He reached out and grabbed at Elle, stopping her motion and jerking her back around to face him.
“No one talks to Buck that way, especially no woman!” the crude biker snarled.
“Of course not! No woman would talk, in any way, to a man who refers to himself in the third person!” Elle snarled right back, pulling at the arm the big man still held in his grip, “Now, let me go. This instant.”
Any other time, Honey would have cheered for Elle, for the spirit and fire burning in her warm cinnamon gaze but just then, all he could really see was the blood red haze obscuring his vision. It narrowed even further when Buck tried to pull her towards him once more. And then, he lost it.
Something inside him snapped at seeing Elle treated that way. He couldn’t stomach any woman being abused, but this wasn’t just any woman. This was Elle. His Elle. With a roar like an enraged beast, Honey charged towards them.
A moment later, impact hit. He felt it ricochet through his whole body as he shoved at Buck, taking the other man by surprise. Enough to make him drop Elle’s wrist and back up a few steps.
“Hey, man. What the fuck? We’re just having a little fun,” the short one said, his voice holding an edge of whine to it that had Honey swinging out his fist again.
“Go have your fun somewhere else. She’s mine,” he growled the words, rage consuming him, making him braver, or stupider, than he normally was as he stalked towards them.
“Viper will hear about this!” Buck tossed out angrily and Honey just smirked.
“Oh, I’m sure he will. I’ll tell him my goddamned self. Now, get out of here.” Honey took one more step forward and they must have seen the seriousness in his dark gaze because in the next instant, they were both gone.
Anger and panic still churned through his system as he slowly turned around to face Elle. He knew he was glaring at her. He didn’t care. He was pissed.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he bit off through gritted teeth, “No, wait. I don’t want to hear it. Come with me.” He reached forward, taking her hand in his and turned towards the storeroom at the back. He needed to calm down. He didn’t know what he might say with his temper still flaring inside him but Elle always seemed to know just what buttons to push. So instead of speaking, he dragged them both to the back room and shut the door behind him.
Chapter 6
As soon as they were inside the cramped broom closet, Elle jerked her hand away, breathless with anger now more than the fear that had flooded through her veins when that…that Neanderthal had grabbed her.
“What the heck do you think you’re doing, Honey! You can’t just drag me around. I’m not your…your toy!”
“Oh, well, you would rather be that asshole’s plaything?” he shouted back, dragging a hand through his already tousled hair. A new surge of anger filled her at his callous words.
“No! No, that’s not…you have no right! You can’t just bully me into doing what you want!”
“I’m not bullying you, you beautiful idiot! I was saving you, in case you didn’t notice!”
“I don’t need you to save me, Honey!”
“Oh really? Cause it looked like you were knee deep in a pile of shit that you couldn’t get yourself out of this time,” Honey yelled, his voice as tense as his expression in the dim light of the storage closet. Elle was thankful for the darkness as her fair skin flamed with a blush at his reminder of the…incident…at the farm the first day she had worked there. Leave it to him to pull out the low blows. Well, she certainly wouldn’t stoop to his level. She opened her mouth to tell him so, in no uncertain terms, but he spoke before she could.
“What the hell are you even doing here, Elle?” Honey’s voice was a little quieter now, some of his own anger leeched out to be replaced by something else, something more fearful. Elle stared at him for a long moment, considering to just ignore his question, and the mission she was given, and turn around and leave. But instead she sighed and pulled the envelope from the pocket of her dress.
“I was asked to drive over here and deliver this. No one else at the farm was available, so I was the lucky one. Whoopee!” she held it out with one hand and Honey hesitantly took it.
“It’s from Carla?”
Elle nodded, “I suppose. Hot Wheels said Carla needed it delivered, so…here I am.”
“Look, next time–” Honey paused, looking at her through the thick darkness in the small room, “things are getting dangerous here–”
“I noticed,” Elle snorted, but Honey just continued.
“I mean it, Elle. Be careful when you’re here, okay? Don’t come alone again,” his voice was serious, earnest almost, and for a second Elle wished that she could see his eyes. He was so good at masking his true emotions, his real thoughts, but she could always read them in his dark, melting gaze.
Sudden nerves hit her, hard. Those damned butterflies were back in full force and she had to swallow hard against the feeling as she took a hasty step backwards. And ran smack into a bucket full of brooms and mops. With shaking hands she tried to right them but it was impossible in the cramped space.
And then it hit her. This was it. This was the room. The same one that they had been in before. The same one where Honey had made her cry his name, had made her beg for him. Had made her lose control. She could feel it happening again. That same sweet, liquid pull. The desire like a physical ache crashing over her body like a tidal wave, threating to sweep her away. No, not again. She couldn’t let it happen again.
She could see the realization dawn hot and instant in Honey’s eyes, even through the dim light, burning her. She could hear it in his quick, drawn in breath and the way his body tensed, every muscle tightening at the memory.
Desperate, Elle cast about for something, anything, to distract her and her gaze fell on the towel wrapped haphazardly around his right hand.
“What–” she had to stop, swallowing hard to get moisture back into her suddenly dry mouth, “What happened?”
“Hmm?” Honey whispered, taking a sliding step forward that had her pulse doing all kinds of acrobatics.
“Y–your hand. What happened to your hand?”
“Oh, this. It’s just a cut. I wasn’t careful and broke one of those old glasses while I was cleaning.”
“What?” Elle asked, her concern switching from her own turbulent desires to his injury
, “Let me see,” she ordered, and with an expression that said his thoughts were far away from his cut, he held it up for her.
“Darn, it’s too dark in here,” Elle muttered as she tried to see it. It was deep, and dark with blood, but she couldn’t see just how bad it was, “Come on.”
Gently, she held his wrist in one hand, trying to ignore the singing heat that followed after the contact as she dragged him out of the small closet and down the hallway that led to the bathroom.
Luckily, Honey followed with little more than a disappointed sigh for which she was grateful. She didn’t know just how strong her resistance was at the moment. Far too weak against him, she was afraid.
She pointed to a stool propped up in one corner.
“Sit down. Over there. And don’t move,” Elle said, ignoring the sardonic way one corner of his mouth quirked up.
“As you command.”
***
Honey watched in amusement as Elle stomped to the sink, rummaging underneath for anything that resembled a first aid kit. He wished her good luck but didn’t think she’d find anything more than old dishrags and some mold growing under there.
He shouldn’t have been surprised, though when a moment later she was stomping back, her arms full of disinfectant cream, clean towels and bandages. It was Elle Watson after all. A woman more full of surprises than anyone else he’d ever met.
One corner of his mouth started to tilt up in a grin but it faded as Elle reached out and grabbed his injured hand none too gently.
“Ouch!”
“Oh, stop being such a baby,” Elle muttered, not even looking up as she unwound the blood stained towel, holding his hand this way and then that, examining it like a surgeon. This time, nothing could stop the small, lopsided grin that curved up his lips as he looked down at the top of her head.
Her blond hair looked like silk gleaming under the fluorescent lights and he breathed deep as she leaned closer, too absorbed in her work cleaning his cut that she didn’t even notice that she was just bare inches away from him. But he did. Oh hell, did he notice. And so did the rest of his body as every part of him tightened in painful agony.
Her scent invaded his senses, drawing deep into his lungs as he inhaled and he could almost taste the sweet spiciness of her. He wanted more. It was addictive, the way she smelled. The way his body felt like a million tiny lightning bolts were firing across his skin whenever she was near. The way the whole world got just a little brighter, a little cleaner. And it was all because of her. Because of Elle.
Honey forced himself to stay still as she worked and it was pure torture. He could think of a hell of a lot more things he’d rather be doing with her just about then, but for the moment there was something so sweet in her actions, so earnest.
He couldn’t remember the last time someone had taken care of him. Years probably, decades.
“You must not have known a lot of very good people, then,” Elle said softly and Honey realized with a start that he must have spoken out loud.
“Yeah, well, good people are few and far between in my world,”he said with a rough laugh, rubbing his neck with his free hand.
“Your world?” Elle said, a question in her voice but then she looked up at him, shaking her head, the look in her dark eyes drawing him in, trapping him as firmly as any cage, “No, Honey. There’s just one world, and we’re all in it together. There is always dark, but there’s always light too.”
“Light,” Honey snorted softly, her words making his chest tighten painfully with an emotion he couldn’t put a name too. Longing, maybe? “I haven’t seen a whole lot of that in my life.” It was more than he’d meant to say, more than he’d meant to reveal but it was too late to take the words back.
In the silence that followed, a thick tension rose like smoke to wrap around them, encompassing them, drawing him closer and closer to her and then it was too much. He had to have a taste of her sweetness, a taste of that light she was talking about. He needed her.
His lips landed on hers in a feather light kiss made them both gasp. He was shaking with the strain to keep things gentle, to take it slow, but, like always, one taste of her and every instinct inside him went wild.
Everything inside him howled for her, howled for him to finally make her his own but he fought it, his hands clenched white-knuckled on the stool to keep from wrapping around her and pulling her close. As close as he could. As close as two people could be.
For one brief, delicious moment he could feel Elle melt against him, her soft curves pressing against his own hard muscles and it was absolute heaven. But then, again, she was pulling away, shaking her head as she reached her fingertips up to trace her lips, where his own had just been.
The flushed look she gave him almost sent him to his knees, the desire burning in her gaze raw and almost as wild as his. But beneath that was panic and doubt and fear and so many other emotions that he couldn’t untangle them. And so he sat there, painfully aware of her, fighting against his own needs, as she spoke.
“Why do you always do that?”
“Do what?” he asked roughly, still trying to get his body back under control. It looked like it would be more cold showers for him.
“Kiss me when you don’t want to talk about something. Try to distract me.”
“Does it work?” Honey asked, looking up at her from under his brows, trying to gauge her. The tone was so serious, like she was really trying to figure something out, to figure him out.
Good luck with that, he sneered silently. More women than he could count had tried. And failed. In the end, he was never enough. The thought made something uncomfortable shift inside him and he forced a sardonic smile to his still tingling lips.
“I’d rather kiss you than talk, so sue me.”
“You are a caveman,” Elle huffed, whatever spell that had risen up between them popping like a bubble as she turned away, shoving the rest of the unused bandages under the sink and slamming the cupboard door shut.
“Where are you going?” Honey asked as she started to head for the exit.
“I have to get back to the farm,” Elle said, casting him one indecipherable look over her should, “Carla needs me back there.”
“Just…just take care of yourself, okay?” They weren’t the words he really wanted to say, not even close, but then she was nodding and walking through the doorway to disappear from his view. She left him all alone with his injured hand, his thoughts, and a damned painful erection that he had a feeling wasn’t going away any time soon.
With a sigh, he turned to leave himself, heading towards his own rooms in the small coach house behind the club. He prayed a cold shower would help. It had to. He was running out of options.
Chapter 7
Her hands were still shaking. She hated that her hands were still shaking. As she parked the car in the farm’s parking lot and forced herself to get out a terrible sense of déjà vu swept over her. It was the same as earlier that very morning. The same feeling of anxiety, but for a different reason now.
She’d been so afraid that Honey would be there, that she would accidentally run into him. Well, she’d done a whole lot more than that. And what’s more. She’d been happy to see him. Wait, no. Happy is too strong of a word. Not disappointed, maybe? And that thought only made her nerves fire all over again. Because when she was around Honey, when he looked at her with those dark, burning mysterious eyes of his, she could feel it happening. She could feel herself losing control. And she hated it.
Not again. She wouldn’t let it happen again. She just…well, she would just have to work harder at avoiding him. Elle nodded firmly to herself, trying to strengthen her resolve. Yep, she would just…not see him anymore. If that’s what it took, then that’s what she would do.
With that thought held firmly in her mind she threw her shoulders back and strode into the office. And immediately froze.
“…I understand, Wheels–”
“With all do respect, sugar, I don’t really think y
ou do,” Hot Wheels interrupted Carla mid-sentence and it was obvious to Elle that she had just walked head on into a heated argument between the two. Although it seemed that neither of the other women were aware that she was there.
“What do you want me to do, Hot Wheels? I told you! I want this place to be legit. It has to be legit. I’m not about to let some gang of low life bikers–”
“Low life bikers! Is that how you see him?”
“Him?”
“Them. I mean them. Don’t change the subject, Carla. Is it? Is that what you think of us?”
“No, of course not!” Carla shot back just as heatedly. Elle opened her mouth to say something, to announce her presence, anything, but her friend kept right on talking, “That’s not what I meant, Hot Wheels. I didn’t mean you.”
