by Laura Kaye
“Alexa,” he growled.
“You sure? Because I don’t want a bite. I want the whole meal.”
The words hit him like a blowtorch licking over his skin. Without thought, he kissed her. Hard and claiming and rough. He absolutely plundered her mouth, his lips sucking, his tongue penetrating. The whimper she unleashed shot to his cock as her fingers twisted in his hair.
In his head, he was pulling down those sexy beat-up jeans and bending her over his bike . . .
Bike.
Maverick’s eyes flashed open . . . and his gaze landed on the handlebars of Tyler’s motorcycle.
He pulled back from the kiss, his fingers going immediately to his lips. “Fuck.”
“What?”
“We’re not doing this,” he said, anger making his words come out sounding harsh. Anger at himself for thinking with his dick, for thinking of himself, for taking advantage of the emotional wreck she’d been just five goddamned minutes ago.
“Why?” she asked, a tinge of hurt in her voice.
He grabbed her hand and pressed it to the painfully hard ridge of his cock. “Not because I don’t want you. Understand?” He nailed her with a stare. He didn’t know all the shit Slater had filled her head with, but he’d never make her doubt his desire for her. Maverick didn’t have the patience, tolerance, or disposition for game-playing. Never had.
Finally, she nodded, but she didn’t remove her hand. “Then why?”
He shuddered out a breath and forced her touch away, but he slid his fingers through hers to try to take the sting out of the gesture. “Because you don’t need anything else that messes with your head right now. Being inside you this morning was the best fucking thing I’ve felt in five years, but it also complicates the shit out of what you’re going through. And me bending you over a bike in my garage isn’t going to help you figure things out.” He stepped away as what he was saying to her sank in to his own brain. Yeah. This was the right thing to do. Keep his damn hands off until she figured her life out. “So, yeah.” He raked at his hair.
“Oh.” She hugged herself, but nodded. “I guess, yeah. Makes sense. Sorry.”
He stepped back into her space and grasped her chin. Forced her to meet his eyes. “Stop apologizing for things that aren’t your fault, Alexa. That’s him talking and I won’t fucking stand for it.” He arched a brow until she agreed.
She did. “Okay. Should we go home, then?”
“Yeah,” he said, his cock still rock hard. Traitorous bastard. “We should.”
“ALEXA,” GRANT SAID, walking into her office the next morning. Without knocking. He closed the door, then turned to her, his face set in a deep scowl. A shiver raced over her skin.
“Grant,” she said, pulling her attention away from checking over the furniture deliveries scheduled to arrive at the model home beginning this afternoon. She forced strength and confidence into her voice, refusing to be cowed by the anger radiating off of him. “Can I help you?”
“Yes. By coming home. Today.” He crossed his arms, his eyes set in a dark glare.
“We’ve already had this conversation,” she said, her heart racing despite herself. He was back in that scary, quiet mode again. “Will there be anything else?”
He stalked toward the desk and braced his hands against it, and then he leaned down close. Too close. “Collect your belongings and come home.”
Was that what this anger was over? He’d noticed she’d removed all her belongings? “I don’t have a home right now,” she said.
“Is that what this is still about? How many times would you like me to apologize?” he asked, no remorse in his tone whatsoever. So be it. Acting like this just confirmed that she’d made the right decision.
In fact, half of her wanted him to keep talking, to break into a full-out tirade, even. Because both of those were likely to further validate her choice to leave him. “One genuine apology would be nice. But there’s a difference between apologies and forgiveness and forgetting or overlooking. I have no intention of doing the latter. So I won’t be coming home. Or getting back together with you. Or marrying you. Which is why I returned your ring and packed my stuff.” She clasped her hands on the desktop to hide how much they were shaking. “Perhaps we should talk about who is calling to cancel what. I could take care of the venue, the photographer, and the band if you’ll cancel the honeymoon reservations, the florist, and the cake maker. And I assume you’d prefer to send out the email notifying the guests.” At least they didn’t have a slew of in-laws coming into town that they had to worry about disappointing. For once, neither of them having much in the way of family was an advantage.
His expression transformed, like he was confused and angry in equal measure. “Cancel the wedding? We’ll do no such thing.”
She blinked, because she’d been very clear on this already, yet he was acting almost surprised to hear it. “Grant, you’re not listening to me. We’re over.”
The rolling changes to his expression were almost comical. She couldn’t decide if he was trying to figure out how to play this or was actually this . . . emotionally out of control. It was so unlike him that all she could do was stare and wait for his reaction. Like watching to see which number the ball landed on in roulette.
“We are adults, Alexa. We will talk this out like adults,” he finally said.
“There’s nothing to talk about,” she said, trying very hard to keep her frustration in check. But talking to him right now was a lot like talking to a brick wall.
“There’s everything to talk about. There’s forever to talk about.”
“Grant—”
“What do you think is going to happen here, Alexa? That I’m just going to let you go? That I’m going to allow you to walk away from the life we’ve started building, the one that we’ve invited three hundred people to come celebrate and witness the start of in ten days? That you’re going to shack up with a criminal biker gang and I’m just going to stand for it?” His volume escalated on those last few words, his anger finally coming through, and he leaned over the desk, invading her space until it was hard to breathe.
Needing distance, she pushed back in her chair, her scalp prickling and her hair standing up on end. She wasn’t sure she’d ever heard rage in his voice as scary or as lethal as what he’d just spoken. Whatever sass had been on the tip of her tongue melted away. Where had these mood swings come from? Or had she just never noticed because she’d always gone along to keep the peace?
“Surely, you realized that I would find out where you were.”
She had. Of course she had. It had only been a matter of time, and Frederick wasn’t that big—especially for Grant Slater. “If I was trying to hide where I was staying, I wouldn’t have Maverick giving me rides to and from work,” she said, hating the quivering in her voice. Maverick, who she’d had sex with. Maverick, who she wanted to have sex with again. Though she thought better than to share any of that with Grant. He probably wouldn’t want her back if he knew, which could be good. Except she feared his reaction would be a whole lot worse—and more damaging—than that. And, anyway, she hadn’t been with Maverick to get back at Grant, so she wasn’t sharing that with him for anything.
He made a sound full of disgust. “You’ve made your point with this little stunt. I only have so much patience. And I’m not letting you go without a fight,” he said, his tone seemingly calm but, to her, obviously razor sharp and ice cold.
“There’s nothing left to fight about, Grant,” she said, exasperated. How the heck was she going to get this through his head? “You said you wanted me to do this job for the model home, so would you please leave so I can do it? This conversation isn’t getting us anywhere.”
He jabbed his finger into the desk. “Agree to see me after work.”
“No.”
“Agree—”
“Grant, no.”
“Agree, Alexa.” His stare was like sitting under the lights in an interrogation room. Hot and uncomfortable.
/> “I can’t see you tonight. My mother has an appointment,” she lied, terribly, but she was desperate.
“Fine. Tomorrow night.” He arched a brow.
“Grant—”
“I’m hardly being unreasonable. You owe me an hour of your time.”
“No, I don’t—”
“I swear to God.” Anger washed off of him and over her. Despite the air-conditioning in the office, a trickle of sweat ran down the center of her back. He leaned closer and it seemed like his body vibrated with tension, like he might come right up over the desk at her. “Al—”
“Fine,” she said, regretting it immediately. Especially when a smug smile spread over his face. “Just know that I will not be changing my mind. And there’s nothing you can say to get me to. But out of respect for you and the time we shared, I will talk to you about our relationship. One last time. But please, stop doing this to me at work.” The words rushed out as her heart hammered inside her chest.
“So be it. I won’t bother you here again with personal conversation. But remember how persuasive I can be. I will change your mind.” The smugness overtook his whole expression in an attitude that was supposed to come off as sexy but now just struck her as smarmy and purposely obtuse. Who was this man?
She took her seat and laced her hands together on the desk again. “Tomorrow night. Until then, good-bye.”
His eyes flashed. If there was one thing Grant wasn’t used to, it was being dismissed. But she was so angry at herself for agreeing to see him, and she’d had enough. “Tomorrow night,” he said before finally turning on his heel and leaving.
On a heaving breath, Alexa bent over and rested her forehead on her hands. Why had she let him badger her into meeting? She didn’t want to see him or spend time with him. She certainly didn’t want to be alone with him. And it wasn’t like talking was going to change anything anyway.
Damnit. Way to cave, Al.
And if all that wasn’t bad enough, Maverick was going to freaking kill her.
The thought made her remember that Grant knew she was staying with the Ravens. Maverick at least needed to know that much now.
Grant knows I’m staying with you. She shot off the text.
Good, came Maverick’s reply.
What if he takes it out on you? She hit Send, for the first time wondering about what the consequences could possibly be to the Ravens for offering her shelter.
I can handle Slater.
Her belly flipped at all the things that might possibly entail. I don’t want you to have to handle him. Maverick didn’t need Grant’s kind of trouble, and after everything that Bunny and the club had been through recently, it was clear that none of them did.
Her cell rang. Maverick.
“Hey,” she said. Her heart gave a little pang that he’d stopped what he was doing to call her.
“Hey. You okay?” he asked. And another pang over his concern. “What happened?”
“Yes, I’m okay, but it’s a long story. Do you mind if I recount it all tonight?” she asked, not wanting to possibly start a second argument in five minutes. Plus, she really needed to get some paperwork finished so she could meet the general contractor over at the model home to go over room-by-room furniture layout.
“Fine,” he said. “That’s a plan. But listen to me, Al, and listen to me good. You’re under my protection. You’re under the protection of all of my brothers. Period. Something comes at you, it comes at all of us. We try not to go on the offensive if we can help it, but we sure as fuck defend our own. This is what we do. And that includes you.”
His protectiveness chased away some of the anxiety that had settled into her muscles from the confrontation with Grant. “Okay,” she said.
“Okay. You need me, you reach out. You hear?” he said, the fierce urgency of his voice sending comfort and strength down the line to her.
“I hear,” she said. “Thanks, Maverick. It was . . . it was good to hear your voice.”
“Any time.” He paused like maybe he wanted to say something more, but then he just said good-bye.
Alexa couldn’t help but compare how she felt after talking to Grant and Maverick. Grant left her stressed out, anxious, angry at him and herself, and just drained, while Maverick built her up, made her feel secure and less alone, and eased some of her concerns. Hammering home how much she’d misjudged the two men five years before.
Enough.
Enough personal bullshit for one day. It was only nine-thirty in the morning, for crap’s sake. And here she thought her day couldn’t get any more awkward after running into Maverick in the hall this morning wearing only a towel, water droplets running down his bare chest and back from the ends of his freshly washed hair. She’d wanted to drop to her knees and reacquaint her hands and mouth with what was under that towel, but she’d been too worried that he wouldn’t want her to. Not after he’d put the brakes on the night before out in his garage.
God, she really was a mess right now, wasn’t she? Her whole life. Which probably made Maverick right in wanting to put on those brakes.
She just needed to do her job, take care of her mom, and figure out how to put her life back on track. So that’s what she’d stay focused on doing.
CHAPTER 18
You did what?” Maverick asked, standing in the doorway to her bedroom that night. “Because I know I didn’t just hear what I think I heard.”
Alexa had been sitting on the edge of the bed trying to work up the nerve to tell him that she’d agreed to meet Grant when he’d popped in and asked what was wrong. “I told Grant I’d meet with him. Tomorrow after work.” She forced herself to look Maverick in the eye.
He raked his hands through his dark blond hair, the movement raising his shirt and exposing a sliver of lean muscle and inked skin above his jeans. “Why? Why would you do that?”
“I didn’t want to—”
“Did he threaten you?” Maverick asked, coming to stand in front of where she sat. Agitation rolled off of him, but it didn’t scare Alexa. It made her worry that he’d be disappointed in her, but didn’t scare her.
She thought back over the interaction with Grant. There hadn’t been an overt threat, but she certainly hadn’t felt entirely safe, either. He had scared her, even though she hated it, so agreeing had seemed like the path of least resistance. “No, not really.”
Mav held out his hands, still stained with grease around the tips of his fingers. “What does that mean, Al? Please, start from the beginning and tell me what happened.”
She did, recounting everything she could remember. “So, no, he didn’t threaten me. But he was really angry and I . . . I . . . just gave in. Okay? I hated it the minute I agreed, but now I’m stuck.”
“Cancel. Tell him you’re not meeting with him. It’s bad enough you have to work with him. I don’t trust him alone with you at all.” Maverick paced in front of her.
“He won’t let me cancel. I’m going to have to do this sometime. For closure. And stop pacing. You’re making me even more nervous.”
Oh a huff, Maverick crouched down in front of her, his hands on her knees. “Damnit, I don’t mean to make you nervous. But my gut says this is bad news. Fucking Slater.”
“Yeah.” She shrugged and hugged herself. “But what’s the worst he could do? It’s not like he can lock me up in the basement.”
Maverick’s blue eyes flashed. “Don’t even joke about that, Alexa. You’d be surprised what a control-freak with his reputation on the line might be willing to do to get what he wants. And I don’t want to see that happen to you.”
She let out a shaky breath. “So what do I do then?”
“Not you. We. You do this, we’re going with you.” He pulled out his cell phone and dialed.
Alexa’s stomach flipped before the meaning of his words fully sank in, and by then, he already had Phoenix on the line.
“MAVERICK, I DON’T think this is a good idea,” Alexa said when he picked her up after work at the model home she’d be
en designing. She was meeting with Slater in an hour, and Mav was kinda going out of his fucking mind about that.
Straddling his Harley parked in a driveway surrounded by newly laid sod, he handed her his helmet. “It’s the only idea.” It was the first day he’d picked her up on the Night Rod instead of in his truck, but for what was happening tonight, he wanted the NRS. No, he needed it. Needed Grant to see them two up on the back of the bike, Alexa with her arms and her thighs wrapped around Maverick.
Maybe it made him an asshole, but Maverick was worried about her being alone with Slater, and that had his protective instincts roaring to life. Being worried made Mav pissed off, too, and being pissed off made him feel all kinds of possessive and territorial. All of which meant he’d been a bear to be around the past twenty-four hours, something he’d apologize to Alexa for later. When all this was behind them and he knew she was safe. And this would be behind them, one way or the other. Because by the time this night was over, Slater was going to know Alexa Harmon wasn’t his. Once and for fucking all.
“Take the damn helmet, Alexa,” he said, nailing her with a stare. Somehow it didn’t help his mood that she looked stunning in a pair of slim black pants, strappy black heels, a silky tank top and a little black jacket with leather accents all over it. She had her hair up in a high ponytail that made Maverick want to suck on her neck. Hard enough to mark it.
She sighed and took it. “I don’t need you to be bossy.”
“Why can you stand up to me but not him? Ever think of that?” he asked.
She froze with the helmet halfway to her head. “Because . . .”
“Finish that sentence,” he bit out, his boot scuffing the pavement.
She licked her lips, and her eyes appeared golden in the late-afternoon sunlight. “Because I know you won’t hurt me.”
He grasped her by the front of her jacket and hauled her into his side. Their bodies collided, and she threw her arms around him to steady herself. Maverick grasped her tightly, probably too damn tightly, but he had to touch her. Had to feel her. Had to—
