by Morgan Fox
“I’d give anything to see you without makeup on,” he confessed.
She choked out a harsh laugh. “Yeah, well, that’s never gonna happen.”
“Why not?” he asked, furrowing his brow. Why did women have such an issue with being natural?
“Because I don’t plan on being in a situation where you see me that way.” She rose to her elbows, her expression serious again.
He probed. He figured it would be like poking a lion, but he couldn’t help it. “What, no sleepovers?”
She shook her head, twisting her body to lay on her stomach.
He rolled to his side and trailed his finger over the curve of her buttocks and up her back. “What if I want to make you breakfast in bed?”
“Not my style. I don’t date. Don’t do sleepovers. And I’m not interested in breakfast,” she explained, slipping from his bed.
He sat up, watching her scurry around the bed and into the living room. “Wait. Where are you going?”
Shooting out of the bed, he pulled on a pair of shorts as she said, “It’s late. I need to get home.”
That wasn’t what he wanted to hear. He folded his arms over his chest and leaned against the door frame leading to the living room. “You really do have an issue with sleepovers.”
She shrugged. “I told you. It’s not my thing.”
“What about meeting me tomorrow for lunch?”
“Can’t. I work tonight. I’ll be sleeping.”
He closed the distance between them as she found her dress. Clasping her wrist, he spun her to face him. “What about dinner?”
She pursed her lips. “I told you this was just sex. I like sex with you. I don’t need anything more than that. I thought you understood.”
He released her and eased back, his hands raised as if to deflect her panic attack. “I get it. Shit, I appreciate it. I get to spend nights with you and woman, you’re …” He groaned. “Amazing. But I’d still like to know the woman I’m fucking a little better and people have to eat, right? Why can’t we eat together?”
She huffed out a breath, showing her annoyance with his persistence. “It could lead to a misunderstanding. I can’t risk that.”
She couldn’t risk liking him too much?
Was she afraid that down the road it might lead to him falling for her, or the other way around? He didn’t get it. He wasn’t looking for a long-term commitment. He was looking to have a bed partner he could eat with as well as fuck. “It’s just food, Brynn. What are you scared of?”
Her eyes rounded at the word scared and he realized he’d hit the nail on the head. There was so much more beneath the surface when it came to her and watching her face grow red and her tone heighten, he couldn’t resist the challenge.
“One dinner at Iron Horse before you start work. If you don’t like me and you think I’m pushing things in a direction you don’t like, I’ll leave. But if dinner goes well …” He swept her up in his arms. “I’ll meet you every night at closing time and make you come so hard you’ll black out from how good I make you feel.”
She tried hard not to smile, but she couldn’t. “You have way too much confidence, Quinnnn …” She stretched out his name as if in search of his full name.
With a lopsided grin, he told her, “Williams. Quinn Williams.” He cupped her face. “And your full name?”
She closed her eyes briefly as if using the time to decide if she should tell him. It wasn’t like he couldn’t find out. He could. With one phone call. But he preferred to hear it from her.
“Brynn Sloan.”
“Damn, your name’s as hot as you are. I’m so screaming that the next time we’re together. “Oh, God, Brynn Sloan. Don’t stop. Right there, Brynn Sloan,” he teased.
She playfully shoved against him. “Whatever.”
He pulled her close and took her mouth, kissing her hard, but quick. He eased back, letting her dress. She slipped the dress back on and surprised him by taking his T-shirt.
“I’m taking this,” she said, putting on the T-shirt as she headed toward the door.
“Why?”
She snickered, walking to her bike. Then, after a long moment of silence, she reminded him, “You stole my panties.”
He laughed. “Oh, yeah. I sure did.”
He kissed her again and watched as she rode away, more eager than ever for the day to hurry up and get over with so he could see her again. Something he shouldn’t be feeling. But for whatever reason, he couldn’t help it.
Chapter Eight
Quinn was up at the shop early, waiting for everyone to show up, especially Randy. He was eager to get started on the motorcycle. As it stood, he didn’t even know what it needed besides an oil change. He could do that blindfolded.
Sitting on his bike, he heard the roar of bike engines. Then the gate to the yard began to open. Cappy, Tank, and Dozer all showed up, each giving him a slight wave as they pulled around to the back of the yard. As he prepared to do the same, he saw Randy. But instead of following the others, he parked his bike on the sidewalk out front. A black SUV pulled up next to him. As the dark tinted window lowered, a blonde woman wearing black sunglasses handed Randy a blue backpack. He watched as Randy leaned into the car to kiss the woman.
With a smirk, Quinn made a mental note that the kid must have forgotten his lunch box at home and his “mommy” needed to bring it to him. Shaking his head, he fired up his bike and parked it next to the others. Entering the garage, he moved to the office to find the work order for the bike. It wasn’t clipped to the boards like it should’ve been, which meant he had to wait for Randy to come in and tell him what needed to be done.
He started to make coffee, dumping a premade pouch into the filter and adding water to the machine. He pressed the button and felt the presence of someone behind him before he ever heard him.
“And you didn’t even have to be asked,” Cappy said, sliding up alongside him to grab his mug. “I like that about you.”
Quinn rubbed a stiff hand over his face as if to wipe the sleep from his eyes. “I need a big cup today.”
“Late night?”
Brynn’s amazing body consumed Quinn’s thoughts and stirred parts of him that needed to stay at rest. He cleared his throat, concentrating on the dripping liquid that filled the glass pot. “You could say that.”
Cappy chuckled and slapped him on the back. “I’m glad you didn’t ditch us for nothing.” His eyes scanned around his office and into the garage area. “Where the hell’s Randy?”
He hiked his thumb over his shoulder. “I saw him out front chatting it up with a gal in a truck.”
Cappy frowned. “You know, that kid lacks discipline. If it weren’t for the fact that our motorcycle repairs have skyrocketed since he joined us, I’d kick his scrawny ass right to the curb.”
The kid was newer to the group than Quinn was, and other than a few drinks at Iron Horse, he hadn’t had much interaction with him. “I don’t really know him.”
The scoffing sound Cappy made had Quinn feeling like his domineering father was hovering over his shoulder. “That kid has a great reputation for fixing bikes. That’s why I hired him. Word around said he was one of the best and as it was, business was going slow. Now … not so much.”
“All because of Randy working here?”
“That’s the only thing that’s changed around here. I don’t know, maybe I need to overlook his shitty attitude and tardiness.”
Quinn chuckled. “Wait a second. What happened to the hard-ass club leader I’ve heard so much about? Didn’t you once make a new recruit ride naked in thirty-degree weather just too see how badly he wanted to be a member?”
A boisterous laugh exploded from Cappy. “Ah, the good old days,” he finally managed. “Sadly, we don’t do that anymore.”
“No?” Quinn snickered. “From what I heard about you guys before joining, you were a regular bunch of wild dogs.”
Cappy fanned his hand through the air in a dismissive gesture. “That’s
who we used to be. Those wild days of getting in trouble are over. Besides, I’m not the young man I used to be. I guess time really does change things.”
Quinn wasn’t sure that was true. But before he could speak with him further, he noticed Randy in the last bay starting to work on the bike. The little shit hadn’t even bothered to let him know he was ready to get started.
“That dick,” he muttered.
Leaving Cappy to work in the office, he stalked over to Randy. “Don’t tell me … you didn’t see me waiting on you in the office?” he asked sharply, unable to hide his irritation. The kid was really starting to get on his nerves.
Randy eyed him from his knees beside the bike. “I wasn’t kidding yesterday. I don’t need your help.”
“Tough shit. You got it anyway.”
“Whatever, dude,” he mumbled loud enough for him to hear.
He rolled his eyes at his immature response. “Where’s the work order?”
“I don’t need one,” he replied matter-of-factly.
“You might not, but those of us that use them, and might have to cover for you someday, do.” He scoffed. “Shit, kid. I spend less time here than you and I know that much.”
Randy stood. “I don’t have to worry about that. I finish my own projects. I don’t need help.”
“So you’ve said.” Quinn stepped closer to him. “It’s not just that. It’s also about keeping track of the work we do. If a customer comes back, we need to be able to track the job. If you aren’t completing the work order—”
“Who are you? My mother?” Randy spat.
One side of his mouth curled upward. “No, but I’m clearly smarter than you.”
Randy closed in on him as if he prepared to strike him. Quinn braced himself, ready to put a hurting on him. But before either of them could come to blows, Cappy called out to him.
“Quinn! We got another bike out front. Would you mind taking that one?”
Without facing Cappy, Quinn said, “Sure. No problem.” Then, he eased back and left the hotheaded kid to work alone.
There was something off about Randy. Could someone be that antisocial and controlling that they’d literally start a fight to be left alone? Apparently so.
After taking the work order, Quinn dove into the needed maintenance the bike needed. It wasn’t anything huge. Again, it was an oil change and tire check. Nothing major. Most bike owners could do these repairs themselves, but it didn’t matter either way. It gave him something to do and a reason to go snooping around the shop without looking suspicious.
While working on the bike, he checked out all the tool boxes and storage rooms. Nothing. There were no signs of any drugs or evidence there ever had been, at least with what he could see with the naked eye.
Two more bikes came in and again they were oil changes and tire checks. Quinn expected to see some variations, but since Randy never completed a full work order on his bikes, he couldn’t go back and look at the bikes that had come through the shop in recent times. There was something about the lack of paper trail that was bugging him. Or maybe he was just trying to bitch-slap the kid for being an asshole.
At three o’clock, he headed out. Brynn was now the only thing on his mind and after the disappointing day he had, he wanted a moment were it wasn’t.
* * * *
Brynn was going to be sick. Her stomach fluttered and tossed around as if she were about to sing the national anthem in front of millions of people and she’d forgotten the words. She covered her face with her hands and wondered how she’d allowed herself to say yes to dinner.
From the moment he’d kissed her goodnight, she hadn’t been able to strike him from her mind. He was everywhere, consuming her with need, lust, and fear. Damn him for having the kind of eyes that made him hard to resist. Damn him for having a voice that made her melt where she stood.
What’s wrong with me?
She glanced over at the clock. It was time to meet him. Trouble was, she wanted to meet up with him. Her interest in him was the reason for her panic. He wasn’t supposed to want her more than once, but he did and that was confusing her beyond rational thought.
Whatever happened to not wanting the cow if you gave away the milk for free shit?
Quinn was sweet, charming, and devilishly good in bed. Her pussy throbbed just thinking about him. He’d made sure that she was satisfied way before him, not once, but several times. He was a generous lover, something she’d never experienced before.
When she arrived at Iron Horse, he was already there. The broad grin on his face made her chest swell. She wasn’t sure why his smile affected her the way it did, but all she could feel was—happy. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d shared that emotion with a man and she wasn’t sure why it was happening now.
“You really need to wear longer skirts on that bike,” he told her as she moved closer to him.
“Why?”
He placed his hand on his heart. “Oh, honey, it’s not for my benefit. It’s for the others who are likely to drive up a telephone pole trying to catch a glimpse of how sexy you are.”
She glared at him. “I think they’ll be able to control themselves just fine.”
He frowned. “Maybe it’s just me, then.”
Ignoring his flirtatious comment, she said, “The kitchen’s most likely not open, so maybe we should grab a burger at the diner across the way?”
He took her hand in his. “How about we open the kitchen ourselves?”
She smirked, a picture of her lying across the counter while he did oh-so-wicked things to her played around in her mind. “I was told not to have sexual relations in the storeroom again.”
He chuckled. “First, it’s the kitchen. Second, it’s funny how you immediately assume I’m referring to sex. I was merely pointing out that we could just heat up the grills and cook our own burgers.” He winked. “Is that something you’d like to do?”
Feeling a rush of heat coat her cheeks, she pulled the key from her pocket and opened the back door to enter the bar. “After you,” she said, stepping inside after him.
She flipped on the lights, bringing the dark room to life. He followed as she led him into the kitchen. His closeness had her heart pounding against her ribs.
“The freezer’s over there. The patties are on the left-hand side. Grab two and the fries are in the brown bags to the right of those.”
He went in search of the items as she turned on the grills and fryers. When he returned, he was frozen. She smiled as he rubbed his hands up and down his arms. He looked so cute, hugging himself.
Stop that!
She focused on lunch, grabbing the condiments and buns they would need. She reached up to pull down two plates, but before she could, Quinn’s body was pressed against hers, his arm stretched out, collecting the plates from above them.
“Let me help you,” he murmured against her ear.
She sighed as the weight of his body closed in on her. Gripping the edge of the counter, she closed her eyes and waited for his wicked mouth to graze her skin. But it didn’t. Instead, when she looked at him, he was organizing everything they needed.
“Are you any good at grilling?” he asked with an arched brow.
She sagged against the counter. “Not really. I tended to be good at serving drinks over cooking.”
“Got it and that works just fine with me. I”—he pointed to himself with a broad smile—“happen to be a master griller and would love a beer.”
She popped the top off two beers, placed them on the counter, and folded her arms over her chest, watching him work. He had the burgers on the grill in no time and the fries were in the basket, ready to drop.
“Were you a cook in your previous life?”
He laughed. “Nope. My mother was. She ran a kitchen for a prestigious hotel in New York City for years. She brought her talents to a resort in south Florida. That’s where she met my dad.”
Studying him, she could totally see that his mother showed him a few tric
ks of her trade. His confidence and ease only made him more attractive. “And your father? What did he do for a living?”
“He was a cop,” he said, suddenly looking at her as though he’d seen a ghost. “I don’t talk about him much though. He died a few years ago.”
Her heart sank to her stomach and she couldn’t help but go to him, placing her hand on his arm. “I’m so sorry, Quinn.”
He glanced away. “It’s the past,” he told her, his voice cracking a bit with emotion. “How about you? What do your parents do?”
She groaned, not wanting to admit how boring and normal her parents were. Her lips sealed, unable to open for fear of the look on his face when she told him. He eyed her, waiting. And waiting. Then his brow arched, obviously taking her challenge of silence.
Unable to hold out, she blurted, “Okay, fine. They were both high school teachers. Now they’re retired and living in Florida of all places.” She wanted to cover her face before he could laugh at her, but he never did. Instead, a slow, mouthwatering grin splayed across his face.
“Your parents were teachers?” He stopped what he was doing to look at her. “Ah, damn, that’s almost as hot as a preacher and a librarian. Glasses hanging around a woman’s neck on a chain is sexy as hell … and I’ve always fantasized about bending a woman like you over a pew.”
She gaped at him. “That’s terrible.”
He closed the distance between them, caging her in with his body and arms. “Not to me. Just picturing you in librarian attire has my cock hard.”
Eyes narrowed, she reached down and felt for his erection. He wasn’t lying. His thickness pressed against the palm of her hand. “Seriously? You think looking like a nerd is hot?”
He licked his lips, biting into the lower one with a groan of pleasure. “Please tell me you’re into role-playing. I’ve got to see you dressed that way. Heels are a must. The higher, the better. A fuck-me-now garter belt under a tight knee-length skirt, and a lacy bra under a white button-down shirt.”
She shoved against him, her palms flat against his chest. “You’re a mess, you know that?”
