Hard Core (Hard As Nails Book 3)

by Hope Conrad

  Boy, do I. Instead of voicing that, however, I force myself to say, “Look, what we had—what we did—last night was great—”

  “It was amazing.”

  “Yes. It was amazing. And if you want more, so do I.” I’m being upfront with him, more upfront than I’m used to being with anyone, but for some reason, it isn’t difficult. “At least, that’s what I would have said before seeing you here today. Now that I know we work together, I’m not so sure.”

  “Well, let me assure you, I most definitely want more of you. As for working together, it’s going to be a bit of a distraction, yes, but we’re just going to have to deal with it. Because I’m here to make sure what happened last night doesn’t happen again.”

  “You’re a new bouncer?” I question and tap my foot against the floor. “That’s great. The others weren’t cutting it.”

  “Yeah, well, don’t worry. I’ve had words with them and Walt. They know what happened last night, and they know neither I nor their boss are happy about it.”

  “You know Harvey Prince?”

  “I’ve worked for him before.”

  “Ah. More security work. You’re good at it.”

  “Yeah? When you have muscles like this,” he points to his bulging bicep beneath his black blazer, reminding me how I’d flexed my own guns at him last night in the car, “bouncing is second nature.”

  My eyes follow the path of his muscles, starting with the slight pulsing of the veins in his neck, and then down to his biceps and to what I know is a hard-as-steel set of abs. Only my gaze doesn’t stop there; it lingers on his crotch.

  He clears his throat. “Um. My eyes are up here, Angel.”

  My eyes dart back to his, my cheeks burning. Damn it!

  “See?” I cry. “This is exactly what I was talking about. You’re going to be nothing but a huge distraction.” I shake my head and try to step backward, but I’m hit with a quick and sharp stabbing pain in my ankle. I hiss but shake it off. “I see you and I want you. I want you to take me, hard and fast. But we can’t.”

  His eyes flare and he steps closer, so that the heat of his breath lands against my neck. It’s hot. Too hot. Too dangerous.

  I put my hand on his chest, impeding his advance if only slightly. I look over my shoulder, to make sure nobody is watching, or even worse, listening.

  He takes a shaky breath. “If you don’t want me to touch you, then you can’t tease me like that. My control is negligible where you’re concerned Alyssa. Now all I can think about is fucking you, hard and fast. Then slow and soft. And every single way in between.”

  I lick my lips, badly wanting to know what he’s talking about. “Why don’t you meet me at the end of the night? Follow me home on your bike.”

  “What if I say no?” He smiles, telling me there’s no chance of him doing that.

  “You’re not going to say no,” I say, and part of me wonders why. He’s larger than life; I’m just trying to survive. But the sexual chemistry between us is burning a hole right through my common sense.

  “I like the confidence. You wear it well.” He leans down and whispers in my ear. “You should wear it more often.”

  “Get to work,” I say, but not before I impulsively turn my head and nip at his earlobe, making him hiss in a breath. I push him away, then head toward the dressing room to make sure Marley isn’t there.

  “I like bossy women.”

  “Yeah, yeah.” I wave my hand and keep walking.

  But there’s a smile on my face and I can’t seem to wipe off even as my mind warns me I’m heading deep into dangerous waters. Already I feel safer just knowing that Axel is here. But feeling that sense of safety comes at a cost, because it requires depending on a man for something, and I don’t have a good track record with men, or much of a record at all, to be frank. In fact, if history is any indication, it will be me who ends up taking care of him. And with each passing day my father is in the hospital, I grow more and more terrified that the care I can give someone isn’t enough. That I’m on the verge of losing someone special to me.

  Last night, Axel blew my mind. He took me on a journey of sexual awakening, and I missed him as soon as I opened my eyes to find him gone. I wanted him, and by his sudden appearance at the club, it’s as if I’d conjured his return.

  It’s a dream come true.

  And eventually, every dream has to end.

  Chapter Nine

  Axel

  I keep my eye on Alyssa at all times throughout the night, but the later it gets, the more bodies that crowd the club. And each extra body is another body I have to keep my eye on. I must remain alert at all times; I’m looking out for all the women who work in the club, but I don’t even try to kid myself. My main concern is protecting her, and it has nothing to do with feeling protective of women in general. I’ve been able to do that in the past without getting personally invested. Without feeling that my very life depended on my ability to keep another person safe. I learned a long time ago the kind of suffering that can occur when I let a woman too close.

  With Alyssa, I think of all I’ve lost. But I also think of all I can regain.

  Once you’ve lost something you can’t get back, you do one of two things. You give up on getting close to people at all or you only stay close to a select few. I’m close with my friends Slate, Davis, Jericho, and Street. Even a couple of guys from the military. I’d fight like hell to make sure I didn’t lose them.

  And I know the same is true for Alyssa.

  I don’t know her very well. Not yet. But I know that I absolutely cannot fucking lose her.

  I straighten from the bar and walk the perimeter of the room, watching her as she carries a tray of drinks to a table in the furthest reaches of the club. Then I see it. A man in a white T-shirt and jeans with work boots—who shouldn’t have been granted entrance to the club according to the dress code—smacks her against her ass.

  She freezes in place.

  I’m headed toward her when she catches my eye and shakes her head. She mouths the word “no,” and I hesitate. I know she’s proud. I know she’s strong. I know she has to handle crap like that every day on her own.

  She turns to Work Boots, and I pray she grabs him by the shirt and teaches him a lesson or two. Instead, she simply smiles and says something I can’t hear—she’s too far away and the music is too loud. The guy is staring at her lips as she talks, and even I can’t blame him, because when she smiles, it’s pure perfection, a painting from God himself.

  I’ve seen many smiles in my life, but hers takes the cake and the icing too. It makes me hard, of course, but I don’t just want her body. I don’t just want to simply touch her in every place there is to touch. I don’t just want to fuck her until she’s unable to stand. I want all that, but I want all that and more. And then I want something else, too.

  God, I’m turning into such a fucking pussy. Alyssa makes me feel greedy. Needy.

  She makes me yearn, when I thought I’d gotten that out of my system long ago.

  Done with Work Boots, Alyssa turns to carry on with her business. I briefly think about confronting the asshole, but decide against it.

  She handled it. Fine.

  I won’t seek him out.

  But if I should happen to run into him later, I can’t say for sure what I’ll do.

  I sweep the room, making sure nothing worrisome is going on, then I tag Alyssa as she walks back from the bar and back into the fray. She hands off each drink to a group of men outfitted in suits, and at one point, she drops something and bends over to pick it up.

  Her ass beckons me, it’s so taut and so perfect.

  And I can’t wait to get her alone and in my bed.

  I’m normally not into kink. I like to fuck long and hard, but I don’t need whips or ball gags or someone calling me “Sir” to get off. Even so, I find myself fantasizing about tying Alyssa up so she’s on her belly, hips in the air. I picture myself slapping her ass until her cheeks are rosy.

 
I’m going to do it someday. Someday soon.

  And I want to fucking beat my chest and roar in victory because I know not only will she let me do it, she’ll be begging me for it by the time I’m through.

  * * *

  Alyssa and I have an hour left on the clock before we can go. I continue watching her, leaning back against the bar, with my elbows on the countertop. She makes her way through the dense crowd, teasing us all with the way her ass shines in tight shorts. Each and every man on that floor is dying to grab a piece of her, even if it’s only for a fleeting, never-to-be-repeated solitary night.

  And somehow she has no fucking clue.

  She’s not the kind of girl who knows she has this kind of power over men. Not the type of girl to take advantage of it even if she did know. She’s putting on a song and dance as she twists through the crowd, but in her mind, she’s only doing a job.

  She weaves between a set of two tight tables, where Work Boots slaps her ass again. She smiles at him, as if what he’s done isn’t a problem.

  It is a problem though. A big fucking problem.

  I tap my fingers on the bar and clench my teeth even as I calculate the quickest way to get to her if necessary. In one scenario, I hustle over to the table and demand he keep his hands to himself. In another scenario, I let my fists do the talking. This is a strip club not a fucking free for all, for Christ’s sake!

  Another man, seated at the table opposite the repeat offender, calls to her and Alyssa nods. She finishes what she’s doing, and then she heads over to the waiting customer, only for Work Boots to slap her on the ass yet again.

  That’s the straw that breaks the camel’s back.

  I rush through the crowd, my body sometimes fitting through narrow spaces and other times my hands pushing away those who stand in my way.

  My heart races. Blood pumps through my veins. And with each step I take toward that damned table, the narrower my eyes focus in on the man. He doesn’t even see me coming, doesn’t even know what’s about to hit him before I kick the leg of his chair.

  He falls backward as the chair flips against the hard floor. He winces in pain.

  “Axel!” Alyssa shouts.

  I zone her out, rip the piece of shit off the ground by his shirt, and stare him down.

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” I seethe through gritted teeth. “You don’t put your hands on the women here. You don’t put your hands on any woman unless she tells you plain and clear she wants them there.”

  “But—but—”

  “No buts.” I throw him back, releasing him from my grip as his body lands against the table. His feet slide out from under him, and it’s as inevitable as the Titanic sinking to the bottom of the ocean—he rolls to the ground and the table crashes down with him.

  The other men that were sitting around the table all throw themselves to their feet. They’re not looking for a fight, or at least they shouldn’t be. Not if they know what’s good for them.

  “What the hell is your problem?” she snaps even as she walks past me and toward the bar.

  I’m about to go after her, but stop when I notice a shadow inching over my shoulder. I crane my head and stare down the wannabe ninja standing within arm’s reach.

  “Do you want to join your friend on the floor?”

  He swallows a nervous lump in his throat before shaking his head and backing away.

  “Good choice,” I say.

  I turn back around to follow Alyssa through the crowd, but once again my instincts tingle, and I sense movement behind me. Without looking back, I hunch over while throwing my arm behind me, hook my arm around the other man’s neck by feel alone and then roll him over the top of my head.

  He lands against the floor in front of me with a loud thud but I don’t even glance his way before taking off after Alyssa.

  Chapter Ten

  Alyssa

  I throw the back door open and step out into the cool night air. I throw my arms around my chest, trying to comfort myself so I’ll stop shaking.

  Embarrassment. Annoyance. Even anger. They are raging through me. Axel just made one hell of a scene in my place of employment. More than that, his little display in there will leave anyone who witnessed it with the impression I’m a poor helpless girl who needs to be saved by a knight in shining armor.

  Maybe I am a poor helpless girl, but that’s my business. Nobody else’s.

  My phone buzzes with an incoming text and I check the screen. My stomach clenches when I see the message. It’s from Mr. Prince, telling me he’s setting up a pole dancing lesson for me tomorrow and will get back to me on the time and place.

  I’d been expecting it. So why do I suddenly feel so trapped?

  So defeated?

  The door is thrown open behind me, and I don’t even need to turn around to know who it is. Quickly, I shove my phone back into my apron pocket.

  “Go away, Axel.”

  The door clicks behind me, but I’m not fooled. I don’t know much about him, but I know he’s not good at following orders. Mine least of all.

  “I’m sorry,” he begins and I turn to face him. I don’t see a hint of guilt on his face. “I’m sorry that you’re upset, but I’m not sorry for what I did.”

  “If that isn’t the most cliché bullshit of an apology I’ve ever heard—”

  “It’s not bullshit,” he cuts me off and takes a step toward me, but I take two steps back. “I really am sorry for upsetting you.”

  “He didn’t deserve that.”

  He raises a confused eyebrow. “He slapped your ass multiple times.” He shakes his head angrily, his disdain glowing under the neon light hanging from above. “And there’s nothing wrong with that?”

  “It’s my job,” I yell. “I don’t get to walk around with a sign saying, Please do not touch this girl.”

  “It’s not your job. You’re a server. Even if you were a stripper, the customers are supposed to keep their hands to themselves.”

  “But they don’t. Someone always gets handsy. That’s just the way it is.”

  “And yet you continue working here. Knowing that’s going to happen.”

  I suck in a breath and place my hands on my hips. “You think I like this? Do you think I like anything about it?”

  “How am I supposed to know?” He shrugs “But you make excuses for them. You just said he didn’t do anything wrong.”

  “There are certain expectations when you walk into a club like this. In the real world, you can’t do shit like that. In here? You shouldn’t, but people do. That’s just the name of the game.”

  “And the other side of that coin is me doing what I did. It’s not okay for men to touch something that isn’t theirs.”

  “Women don’t belong to men ever,” I say, and he just looks at me, and I get his message. Sometimes a woman can belong to a man in the best way possible, just like a man can belong to a woman. I’m suddenly struck by the overwhelming desire to make Axel mine, but I push that ridiculous thought away. We just met. Yes, we’d had sex, but that’s all we’d had. We weren’t baring our souls to one another and falling in love.

  “Why are you acting like this?” I shake my head, but I’m confused by my own behavior as much as his.

  “Acting like what?”

  “The jealousy is written all over your face.”

  He steps back until he’s leaning against the side of the building, then crosses his arms over his wide chest. “And that’s a surprise to you? It shouldn’t be. I don’t like that those men are in there touching you, and I really don’t like that you’re okay with it.”

  I walk up to him until we’re toe to toe. “I don’t like it. But if I get pissed at every asshole who acts like an asshole in there, I won’t have a job. I told you when we first met. I am not some helpless girl. When a guy smacks me on the ass or says something really foul, and I let it slide with a smile because choosing to let it go is another dollar in my pocket, that’s my choice. If it turned into more, it
would be my choice to stop it. And I would, Axel. You have to trust that.”

  He stares at me, jaw clenching, before his shoulders relax. “You’re sexy when you’re mad,” he says with a mischievous smile capable of melting my panties right off my body.

  I shake my head. “Don’t try and change the conversation.”

  “The point is—” he begins, but I cut him off with a wave of my hand in front of his face.

  “The point is that this is my life, and it’s my job. I have to be friendly to get good tips, and besides, you don’t own me.”

  That seems to hit him like a speeding truck. He cocks his head as if he’s trying to process my words. It shouldn’t be difficult. It should be simple. It should be really damn simple.

  “Fair warning,” he says. “That’s where we’re headed.”

  Did he really just say that? “What does that mean?”

  “It means, I want to own you,” he growls. Before I have time to process his words, he reaches for my arms and spins me around. My back lands against the brick exterior, and he leans over me. He gets close, so close our lips almost touch, and I desperately hold back my urge to close that frustrating distance.

  “You can feel it, can’t you?” he questions. “You want me to own you the way I dream of owning you. We’re on the same page, Angel. You’re just not willing to admit it yet.”

  I dig my fingers into the back of his hair and pull him closer until I can whisper in his ear. “All I know is you’re a good fuck.” Then I plant my hands on his chest and push as hard as I can. Of course, he doesn’t move an inch.

  “No, wait. You’re not just a good fuck,” I say. “You’re the best I’ve ever had—“

  “That’s one thing you don’t have to tell me, gorgeous. And you’re not so bad yourself.”