“Two inches?”
I almost burst out laughing. She was in for a big fucking surprise. And then my addled brain realized that she was asking me how much hair I wanted her to hack off and not the size of my dick. “Yeah, that sounds about right.”
It didn’t take her long. I watched silently as she cut off about two inches, maybe a little bit more. My dirty-blonde hair appeared darker because it was wet. Slick strands fell all around me. Occasionally, she ran her fingers through it like a comb, and fluffed it as if to see how it fell against my head. I’d had plenty of haircuts in my lifetime, but none of them had felt this good or turned me the fuck on. My head was within an inch of being cushioned against her soft tits, and I took advantage of it by leaning further back into her.
She sucked in her breath, but kept cutting. Finally, she asked, “How does this look?”
I didn’t draw my gaze away from hers. “Fucking perfect.” I was talking about the image of my head against her tits and her hands in my hair, her sweet face peering over my shoulder at our image because she was too short to see over my head. I wanted to reach back, pull her around, and set her luscious ass down on my lap. My dick needed some attention. “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll stop looking at me like that,” I growled low, just about at the end of my limit. “Unless you want me to do something about it.”
Her eyes rounded innocently. “I-I don’t know what you mean. How am I looking at you?” She stepped away from me.
I stared at her long and hard, trying to determine if her innocent act was real, or if she was playing me. Some women who wanted to experience a long-haired, leather clad outlaw from Phantom Riders liked to send off signals that they were scared and innocent, when deep down they were worse than our club whores. Needier and dirtier. What they were looking for was to be taken and dominated by a bad boy. Something about Daisy told me that she didn’t play games. The guarded look in her slightly frightened eyes, the fight or flight aura that surrounded her, told my gut that she was undecided and maybe a little confused about what was happening.
“Like you need something from me.”
She shook her head. “No, we must have our signals crossed, because I don’t need anything from you, or any man.” Her tone was slightly defensive, as if she were trying to convince herself as much as she was me.
Her declaration said a lot. My earlier guess that she’d been hurt had been right, and apparently, it had been at the hands of a man. Anger rose inside me. Was she living with the bastard now? Letting him abuse her like so many women did?
“I don’t think so, baby.” I wasn’t about to let her ruin what was happening between us by bringing a whole new element into the equation. “You’ve been giving off vibes since the first time our eyes locked a few days ago.”
A frown appeared between her pretty eyes. “What kind of vibes?”
A slow as molasses grin spread across my face, and I purposely let my gaze drop leisurely down her body and back up again. Her hardened nipples were pointing right at me, just begging me to put my mouth on them. The front of my pants was bowed with my massive hard-on, the movement drawing her gaze to it, and then her pretty little mouth opened into a silent O. Fucking hell, all I could think about was that silent O sinking down onto my dick until her lips came to rest against my ball sac.
That is, if she could take all of me.
Her cheeks reddened and her eyes flew up to meet the arousal that I knew was evident in mine. I wasn’t about to try and hide what she was doing to me, to my body. I wanted her to see what was going to claim her, to know that sooner or later she was going to be mine, in every way. If that frightened her, that was just too fucking bad.
If she still lived with the abusive fucker, he was a dead man.
“We’re done,” she surprised me by saying.
That only made me smile wider, and when she put her scissors and comb down and made a move to turn away I reached out and grasped her around the wrist. Her skin was smooth and warm, and her pulse jumped erratically beneath my thumb. “Oh, no we’re not, not by a long shot, baby.” The bastard in me pulled her closer and the soft gasp she let out turned me the fuck on. “I want a shave, too.”
Chapter 5
Daisy
Oh, God, what was happening to me? I was blushing like a virgin with this man, like a blithering, frightened woman who could barely get out two coherent words. Well, I was frightened, but only because of the intense physical attraction I felt for him. I’d been so close to locking him out after I’d noticed him just sitting there on his bike, but I’d hesitated too long. Then I’d struggled with turning away a paying customer.
Yeah, that was why I let him in. If I were honest, I would have admitted that it had nothing to do with him being a customer. God, I didn’t even know the man’s name! And what little I did know about him, judging by his leather, tattoos, and the huge bike outside, told me that I was crazy for getting involved with him. Yet…he got to me. His warm brown eyes, which were usually narrowed and intense on me in a way that made me wet between the legs, seemed to reach out to me on a level that promised me something I hadn’t had with a man ever.
The sexual current between us was sizzling, and had been building at a rate too fast for me to keep up with. I knew that he felt it, too. I knew what arousal looked like on a man’s face. What it looked like in his eyes. The raw, primal need stamped on his rugged face made my pussy tingle. What surprised me was that it was directed at me. I hadn’t loaded on makeup or dressed to impress or catch the interest of any man. That was what Jasmine was for. She was blatantly aggressive in what she wanted sexually, and was particularly interested in the local biker club. Having her around had made me feel safe from any unwanted advances.
Except, this man was different.
Stupid, I know. But most of the men who walked through my door took one look at Jasmine and saw no one else. Why was it different for this man? He wasn’t my type at all. He was too overwhelmingly male with his huge body, bushy beard, and long hair. And when he’d tucked my cross in between my breasts I’d nearly swallowed my tongue. The heat his one finger had generated in me had been enough to start a fire deep inside my core, one that threatened to consume me.
He had beautiful, thick hair, and I’d chopped off three inches so that it fell just below his ears now. Still enough to pull back the way he’d worn it the day I’d met him. It was drying naturally, I suspected that he wasn’t the kind of guy to sit under a blow dryer. The image almost made me smile. I could still feel the heat of his head against my breasts. The material of my tank was damp, and I resisted the urge to glance down to see if my nipples could be seen through it. He, however, hadn’t, and once his eyes narrowed on the front of my shirt, I felt my nipples tingle as they hardened.
It occurred to me suddenly that I was just standing there like a dummy, staring at his grin and noticing how freaking handsome he was. I swallowed and tried to pull myself together. My body may have been quivering all over with awareness, but he didn’t need to know that. Besides, it was crazy to want a stranger like that.
“Ah, you want a shave? You want it all off?”
He seemed to think about it for a minute. “I’ll leave it up to you. Take off as much as you want.”
His response surprised me, but I wasn’t going to argue with him. Suddenly I wanted to see what he looked like without all the facial hair. But I wouldn’t take it all off. No, I’d always liked a jaw covered with a little scruff. It was sexy. I smiled and went to work. The problem was that I needed to get even closer to him. Close enough to feel the warmth of his breath against my cheek, close enough to inhale the scent of man, smoke, and motor oil. It was a masculine smell that tantalized my senses.
I just barely cut off a moan.
I carefully cut his beard, removing the thick bushy part of it with scissors until I was close to the skin. Then I grabbed a bottle of sandalwood pre-shave oil. Research had led me to purchase a bottle of Taylor of Old Bond Street, which had a s
cent that the few male customers I had raved over. I poured some oil in one palm and rubbed my hands together before putting them against his cheeks. The intimate gesture caused me to still for a moment, and I mistakenly made eye contact with him.
I smiled in the face of his fierce frown, thinking that maybe he was having second thoughts about giving me full rein to cut off as much as I wanted. There was no telling how long he’d had the beard. I forced myself to move, massaging his face thoroughly and slowly to make sure I conditioned the remaining hair and the skin beneath it. It was clear from his tanned skin and the little crow’s feet at the corners of his eyes that he’d spent a lot of time outdoors.
I was relieved when he closed his eyes. It gave me the chance to examine the contours of his strong jaw, his firm lips, and the shape of his chin and cheekbones. The face I’d exposed was ruggedly handsome. Not in a classic, perfect way, but in a rough, strong way that revealed that he lived life hard.
His sudden growl caused me to still. “Does that hurt?” Maybe I was being too rough and he wasn’t as tough as I’d thought he was.
His massive chest rumbled with his snort. “You couldn’t hurt me if you tried,” he joked. “Your hands feel damned good.”
That had been a sound of pleasure?
Oh, my!
I felt myself blush, and went back to massaging. When I felt I’d done enough, I wiped my hands and reached for the hair trimmer. I set it on four and changed the settings as needed. Minutes later, where there had been a bushy beard covering the lower half of his face and neckline, was now covered in an even layer of scruff, a three-day-beard. It made him sexier.
“Almost done,” I said, going to the sink and wetting a clean washcloth.
“No hurry.”
When I returned, his eyes were open. I avoided them at first, gently wiping down his face and neck to remove any loose hairs. God, he looked like a totally different man. Cleaned up, he took my breath away. I had the sudden, unexpected urge to climb up on his lap and straddle him. The thought made my cheeks burn, but didn’t stop me from raising my curious gaze to his. He was watching me closely, and I noticed the look of hunger in his expression. I couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like if he were to let his control slip.
Without warning, he raised his hand. I held my breath, totally mesmerized as his fingers began to gently trace over my cheek, down to the corner of my mouth, and then over my lips. “I’m not going to hurt you, Daisy Mae Flowers.”
I sucked in a breath, unsure of how to respond at first. I pushed Paul to the back of my mind. Not all men were like him. Big and scary didn’t always lead to pain. “Good to know. . .”
“Big John,” he said, guessing at the cause of my hesitation. He seemed fascinated with my mouth, because his gaze remained there. “Say it,” he ordered firmly.
I wet my lips to comply. “Big John.” I knew that was probably his road name, and why wasn’t I pulling away from him? Why was I allowing him to touch me so intimately?
“Yeah, baby,” he said in a low, snarl-like tone. “I like my name on your lips.” He looked deep into my eyes, as if searching for something. “Are you afraid of me, or what’s happening here?”
So, he did feel it too! I was almost relieved, because I’d thought I was losing my freaking mind. I opened my mouth before realizing that I couldn’t acknowledge it, though. I didn’t want to encourage him into thinking that anything was going to happen between us, that we would be acting on the intense, outrageous attraction we felt.
“Nothing is happening,” I said, unable to bring myself to say, ‘between us’. The lie would undoubtedly stick in my throat. I’d been about to back it up by stepping out of his reach, but when I made a move, his hand was suddenly cupping the back of my neck and pulling me toward him. I automatically brought my hands up against his chest and leaned back against his strong hand. “No−” My heart jumped out of rhythm. I was suddenly terrified.
“I have to, baby.” His tone was a low rumble through his chest that sent a shiver of desire down my back. “Just one little kiss, Daisy Mae Flowers.”
Nooooo! But then I was saying yesssss when the smooth taste of his mouth covered mine and I was lost. It immediately turned rough and needy. Big John ground his mouth over mine until I parted my lips and let him inside. Then we were both sounding out our pleasure as our mouths went on the attack in a clash of teeth, tongue, and lips. The taste of him, the passion behind his kiss, overwhelmed my senses, yet I still wanted more.
Pushing against his chest was like trying to move a brick wall. I could feel his defined muscles flex beneath my palms, could feel the vibration of the animal-like sound that was climbing up his torso. I curled my nails into him, the impulsive action seeming to set him off. The next thing I knew, Big John was twisting a hand into my hair and pulling me onto his lap. The chair wasn’t conducive for what he obviously had in mind, and his frustration made itself known.
“Fuck,” he groaned, breathing heavily against my panting mouth. “I forgot where we were.” The hand in my hair loosened slightly, massaging now instead of yanking. His other hand had moved to my ass, squeezing and rubbing one cheek.
It was then that I realized that I was humping against him as if trying to get off, and I knew that I was wet, I could feel it. I ceased moving, praying he hadn’t noticed what I’d been doing, and if he had, that he wouldn’t say anything about it. His expression, though, the sexy half-grin that curved the corner of his mouth up, and the glitter of humor in his eyes, revealed that I hadn’t gotten away with anything. He hadn’t missed a thing.
“Are you with anyone?” he surprised me by asking.
I frowned. Was he asking me if I was involved with someone? “No.”
My answer seemed to please him. “But you were.”
I hesitated, unsure if I wanted to open myself up to him. Only Jasmine knew about my rocky marriage with Paul and how it had ended. I accepted that Big John and I were attracted to each other, but the attraction was sexual in nature, and didn’t warrant us getting personal. Besides, nothing was going to happen between us. What we were doing now was a mistake. Fear of letting another man in caused me to pull away from him and slip off his lap.
Surprisingly, he let me go.
“I think you should probably leave.”
He stood, towering over me like a mountain. “I don’t know what the fuck this is. I’m not even sure I like it. I don’t get involved with women like you.” Women like me? “But something is happening, and until I figure out what the fuck it is, I’m not going anywhere.” My eyes rounded at his proclamation. “Go with me to the club Christmas party tomorrow night.”
That was the last thing I had expected him to say. “Thanks, but I don’t think−”
“I’m not asking,” he growled, crossing his arms over his chest.
The action made him look menacing as hell, and I felt my temper rise at the fact that he thought he could tell me what to do. “No.” I crossed my arms over my breasts and tilted my chin. The quirk of his lips revealed that he was amused at my attempt to intimidate him. Still, I backed up, because the results of my stubbornness with Paul had been physical and painful, and had usually started with an evil smile.
Big John scowled, his eyes seeing more than I liked. “Don’t know what happened in your past, but you don’t ever have to be afraid of speaking your mind with me, baby. I’ve never laid a hand on a woman who didn’t want it.”
I’m sure he thought that would solve the issue, but all I could think about was his hands on someone other than me. Jealousy raised its ugly head, and that was just plain crazy. Lord, I had to get him out of there fast. I watched him pull his wallet from his pocket. He opened it and pulled out a hundred-dollar bill.
“This should cover your services. Keep the rest as your tip.”
I shook my head. “I’m still not going with you tomorrow night,” I said firmly, taking the offered money.
He totally ignored me. “I’ll swing by around seven to pick y
ou up. Wear pants, because we’ll be on my bike.”
“Didn’t you hear me?” I asked, following him to the door.
He stopped and turned so abruptly that I crashed into him. The next thing I knew, he wrapped one of his big paws around my neck and pulled me in for a quick, but satisfying, hard kiss. “Seven.”
I couldn’t think fast enough to say anything in response. With my mouth open, I watched Big John mount his bike and take off. Finally, when I could no longer see him going down the road, I turned the lock and headed to my apartment.
I wasn’t going with him.
And he couldn’t make me!
Chapter 6
Daisy
I stared at myself in the floor length mirror. Damn that Jasmine! After I’d told her about my encounter with Big John she’d talked me into going with him to the party. She was going too, and said that she’d keep her eye on me to make sure I didn’t get into any trouble. What kind of trouble could I get into? It was a Christmas party, and I wasn’t typically a heavy drinker. I had gone into town though, and picked up a bottle of wine because, honestly, weren’t you supposed to show up at the door with a hostess gift?
I had no idea what to expect at a biker club party.
I sucked in a deep breath and released it like a groan. Jasmine had helped pick out my clothes and I wasn’t very impressed with her choices. When I’d told her that Big John said to wear pants because we’d be on his bike, she’d pulled out a pair of skinny jeans, which, on my curves, fit like freaking tights. Well, maybe I was exaggerating a bit. But I did feel a bit exposed. Normally I would have covered up my ass with a long men’s-type shirt, but she’d paired my pants with a red beaded crop top that hung sexily off my shoulders. Because it was cold outside, a waist-length leather jacket finished off my supposedly killer look--Jasmine’s words, not mine.
What He Wants (Book 3 after Phantom Riders MC-Hawk and No Mercy) Page 4
