by Evelyn Glass
Dirk drove up to the garage attached to the left side of the house, and the door rolled open for him after he pressed a button on a small remote control he dug out of the pocket of his leather jacket. He led the bike inside and hit another button, and the garage door rolled shut again. Lights came on automatically, and Camilla took in the orderly garage, with tools and a work desk that would be the envy of any expert mechanic out there.
Dirk dismounted, and Camilla had to suppress a protest at the loss of his warm back against her chest.
“You can get off too, you know?” he said with an amused grin.
Camilla did so promptly, trying not to fall off the Harley-Davidson that she found so unbelievably high for her. She set unsteady feet on the ground and threw one more look around. The garage was large enough that it also hosted a military jeep, perfect for moving around in the tricky terrain of the Mojave Desert.
“What is this place?” Camilla asked.
“It’s my house.”
She looked at Dirk sharply. “Your house?” she repeated, surprised.
Dirk nodded. “Most of the boys are actually based in Northburg, in the town itself,” he explained. “But I like the quiet, so I built my home out here.”
“You built this?”
“Well, no, I had it built. Obviously.”
Camilla stared at him. She felt stupid for asking, but the thing was that Dirk Coleman had proven himself to be such a remarkable, unpredictable man, that she wasn’t quite sure there was anything he couldn’t do.
“And I’m here because…?” she said after a moment.
“I told you,” Dirk said. “This is the safest place I know of.”
“But I don’t understand. If the Tar Mongols are coming to your headquarters, shouldn’t you be there? Aren’t the others in danger?”
Dirk’s blue eyes darkened momentarily. “Stephan’s orders,” he said, and he couldn’t hide the note of displeasure in his voice that told Camilla that he did not agree with his president’s orders at all. “Besides, the others know how to handle the Tar Mongols.”
Camilla watched him intently. “How do you even know they’re coming?”
Dirk arched an eyebrow at her. “Seriously?” he said. “You expect me to give up Minutemen intelligence?”
Camilla rolled her eyes in frustration and was barely able to suppress a snort. “I told you time and time again, I couldn’t care less about Minutemen intelligence. I’m not interested in writing a story on your MC.”
“So you say,” Dirk said.
There was a smirk on his lips, and Camilla couldn’t decide whether he really believed her to be dangerous, or whether he was just enjoying riling her up. It was probably a combination of the two.
“Come on,” Dirk said. “I’ll give you a tour.”
“Hold on,” Camilla said, planting her feet firmly on the garage floor. “I’m not going anywhere until you tell me just how long I am supposed to stay here.”
Dirk stared at her. “As long as necessary.”
Camilla’s jaw twitched. “I’m getting pretty tired of being your prisoner, Dirk.”
“You’re not a prisoner,” he said. “We’re protecting you.”
He really seemed to believe that, which was why Camilla heaved a sigh and decided that she’d best keep her questions for later; there was no way she was getting any answers tonight, just like she had not been able to get any answers up until now.
“Come on,” Dirk said. “I’ll give you a tour. Well, a partial tour.”
Camilla narrowed her eyes in suspicion. “What do you mean a partial tour?”
“You don’t really expect me to give you full access to my house, do you?”
“What?”
“You’ll be restricted to a few areas.”
Camilla glared openly at him. “And you insist on telling me I’m not your prisoner?”
Dirk laughed. “Believe me, darling, you’re not. I don’t bring prisoners to my home, and they’re generally treated much worse than we are treating you.”
Camilla scowled. She followed him to the side door of the garage and into the house, knowing that her situation had not improved…she had simply been moved from one cage to another.
Chapter 16
Dirk’s house wasn’t really what one would expect of an outlaw biker’s residence. It was stylish and cozy and filled with art. It had large windows that Camilla suspected would let in loads of light during the day. It was airy and welcoming, and it even had plants scattered here and there. The more she walked around the house, the more intrigued Camilla became with this man, who was so full of surprises.
There was a piano in the living room. Camilla turned to Dirk in surprise. “You play?”
Dirk shrugged. “Sometimes.”
“Seriously?”
He pretended to be offended. “Even us bikers can appreciate the arts, you know?”
Camilla arched an eyebrow, but she refrained from saying anything. Of all the things she might have expected to find in Dirk’s house, a piano sure as hell wasn’t it. She wondered about this man and his complexity. Was there any end to the many faces of Dirk Coleman? If they were all as intriguing, she really couldn’t wait to find out more.
Eventually, however, her fascination died down when he led her to a guest’s bedroom. It was spacious and comfortable, and it was yet one more cage.
“This’ll be your room while you’re staying here,” he announced.
Camilla heaved a resigned sigh. “Thank you,” she said, because really, what else could she have said? He’d had a point back at the garage; he could be treating her much worse.
“Aw, don’t be like that, princess,” he said, and then he threw his hands up in a placating gesture when she turned sharply to glare at him. “Look, I get it. You’re fed up. It’s understandable. But we’re doing this for your own good.”
“Yes,” she said slowly. “You keep saying that.”
Dirk shrugged. “It’s the truth.”
“Somehow I have trouble believing you.”
Dirk sighed. “Whatever,” he said after a moment, finally deciding that he didn’t care what she thought. “So, to sum up, you are restricted to only a few rooms: this one and its adjacent bathroom, the living room, and the kitchen. Any questions?”
Fuck you, Camilla thought fiercely. Aloud, she said, “You probably don’t want to hear them.”
“I probably don’t,” Dirk admitted. “Well then, good night.”
Camilla stared at him incredulously. “Seriously?” she said. “You expect me to sleep after everything that just happened?”
Dirk gave a shrug. “Frankly, I don’t care what you do in here. Me, I’m going to bed.”
Camilla swallowed past the wave of desire that threatened to overcome her at those words. Even with everything that was going on…she still wanted him. God, I hate myself for it!
She bit her lip and nodded. “Fine,” she said, once she felt she could trust her voice not to waver. “Goodnight.”
Camilla watched as he closed the door, and then she threw herself onto the bed, staring angrily up at the ceiling. She didn’t bother to turn on the light. She just lay there, seething in the darkness.
And then, against all odds, she fell asleep.
***
It had been a very long night. Dirk got little-to-no sleep, too tense and worried about everyone and everything to truly succumb to slumber. He finally gave up on the idea of sleeping around 6:30 in the morning, and he resorted to walking to the kitchen to get himself some much-needed coffee. There was something comforting about the smell of the strong drink filling the room in the early morning hours, and he gave the first true sigh of relief once he finally sat down at the kitchen’s island and nursed the steaming mug between his hands. He took a long sip, but even the strong, dark, bitter liquid couldn’t undo the knots in his stomach.
He didn’t like the orders Stephan had given him.
“Bring her to your house; she’ll be safe there,” hi
s president and friend had said. “Stay with her and keep her there until the moment’s passed.”
“The moment”—of course—being Herman Ruiz’s revenge. He knew how brutal that could be. How ruthless. How unforgiving. He had been on the receiving end of it himself, when he had gunned down Ruiz’s scumbag brother. He shuddered as the memories pushed to get past the wall behind which he had confined them. Truth was, even though Dirk had told Camilla that the rest of the gang could take care of Ruiz and his men, he wasn’t so sure. He felt like he should be there. Instead, here he was, stuck in close quarters with the most stunning woman he had seen in a long while.
There was something about having Camilla in his home that deeply unsettled him. It was like living in close proximity with a panther—you never knew when she would jump you. Camilla’s raw sexuality emanated off her in waves, sometimes probably without her even realizing it. It was a siren’s call that Dirk had found himself unable to resist at first, and just barely able to resist now. It had taken all of his renowned self-control not to knock on Camilla’s door at the club’s headquarters for the past eleven nights. Now she was here, in his house, in his territory, and he could almost smell her. She was both hunter and prey, and Dirk really was not sure how to deal with her.
He winced when a noise in the house snapped him out of his reverie. A door opening. Camilla’s door. She appeared in the kitchen’s doorway a few minutes later, wearing nothing but a shirt that was one size too big for her. Dirk swallowed hard and took another long sip of his coffee to try and wash down the erection he could already feel blossoming within the confinement of his jeans.
“Good morning,” she said.
“Morning,” Dirk greeted, as laconically as he could. He watched as she hesitated in the doorway. “You can come in, you know?” he said after a moment, taking pity on her. “There’s fresh coffee in the pot. The fridge is stocked, and there is bread for toast if you’d like to have breakfast.”
Camilla stared at him, visibly surprised at his kindness.
Dirk rolled his eyes. “What? You thought I’d let you starve?”
He couldn’t explain why it made him so mad that she seemed so surprised by the fact that he wasn’t chaining her up somewhere and leaving her to wither. She thought she was his prisoner, and that annoyed him, even if it was technically true. He couldn’t explain why it was just so damn important to him that she felt safe in his presence.
“Would you like some breakfast, too?” Camilla said, as she won over her hesitations and began rummaging through the cabinets for food and cutlery.
Dirk shrugged. “Sure. Why not?”
He watched her as she cooked. Camilla moved with a continuous grace. She swung her curvaceous hips about as if she was dancing. And that’s when it hit him, and he had to wonder why he had not seen it before. She was trying to seduce him—right here…in his kitchen.
His mind raced. Why was she doing this? Was it because her desire for him was as strong and irresistible as his desire for her?
Dirk shook his head. Don’t be stupid, he reprimanded himself. She wants something.
It didn’t take a genius to figure out what it really was that Camilla was after. Freedom. She felt trapped, and she longed for more access to the house. It was the only thing he could give her, and they both knew it. Seducing him had almost worked in the past. If they had kept up their nightly rendezvous at the headquarters much longer, Dirk knew he would have eventually broken down and bargained with Stephan for her release. Hell, he might have even gone so far as to help her escape.
He grinned into his mug. Things were going to go down very differently this time. This time, he would be completely in charge, and he would make sure that Camilla knew it.
He stood and walked up to her, stopping half a step behind her as she stood at the stove scrambling eggs. He felt her stiffen at his presence, but to her credit, she did not move. He admired her all the more for it. He leaned down so that his lips were grazing the shell of her ear.
“I know what you’re doing, Camilla,” he whispered.
He felt her shiver at the contact of his breath on her skin.
“What…what are you talking about?” she said.
Dirk smirked. “Come on, now,” he said. “You’re too smart to play this game. You walked in here wearing nothing but a t-shirt and your hair cascading down your shoulders. It’s only because you’re hoping I’ll take you.”
Camilla stiffened. She did turn around now. “What did you say?” There was fire in her green eyes.
Dirk’s grin got bigger. “Deny it,” he challenged her. “Say that’s not what you’re doing. Say you don’t want me to take you like I’ve taken you before.”
“How dare you—?”
Dirk easily caught her wrist before the slap could connect with his cheek. He brought his face closer to hers. “Deny it,” he challenged her again.
Camilla didn’t. Instead, she surged forward and captured his mouth in a passionate kiss.
Dirk grunted in surprise and pleasure. She fumbled with the stove’s knobs and turned it off, and then Dirk wrapped a strong arm around her waist and pulled her away from the hot burners. Without thinking, he lifted her up, and she wrapped her legs around his waist just as automatically. He brought her over to the table and set her down, opening her thighs with both hands. She responded immediately—willing, eager. Dirk’s whole body felt like it was on fire with desire for her.
He didn’t prep her, and Camilla didn’t complain. It was hot and rough and messy, and he wouldn’t have had it any other way—and from the way she moaned in ecstasy with every one of his thrusts, neither would she. He felt her clench around him with every move, every push, every moment of friction. Her mere tightening around him was doing things to Dirk that he had not experienced in forever. Not even their clandestine encounters at the headquarters had been this mind-blowing—even though he had thought they were the hottest things he had ever experienced.
There was something about Camilla. There was something about her body, the way she moved. There was something about her touch that scorched his skin. There was something about the way she let herself be taken, and at the same time seemed to take him, leaving him little-to-no choice as to how their bodies would fuse together. She was both prey and hunter, and it was a combination that drove Dirk insane.
He didn’t know how long they kept going on the kitchen table, Camilla sitting on the edge with her legs wrapped around his waist and his cock inside of her. It was a whirlwind of raw sensations that Dirk was all too glad to let himself get swept up by. It was like nothing he had ever had. She was like no one he had ever had. He felt a pang of guilt as those thoughts entered his mind, but then he told himself that it had been different with Eleanor. There had been an emotional connection there, one that was irreplaceable and that he would be very careful not to let happen again with anyone—ever. With Camilla, it was just raw, animal instinct.
They were both panting by the end, and Dirk disentangled himself and pulled out of her as quickly and gently as he could.
She looked up at him, a smirk on her full, kiss-swollen lips. “So,” she said, “will you show me one more room now?”
Dirk grinned. “Nope.”
Chapter 17
Camilla did not give up. She continued to seduce Dirk, and she told herself she was doing it in order to buy something that resembled freedom—and not because she found herself simply unable to resist him. There was just something about Dirk. The more she had of him, the more she wanted him. It was as if, no matter how many times she had him, she couldn’t get enough.
The fact that he seemed to be slowly succumbing to her hot flatteries gave her all the more reason to continue on her mission. Every time they had sex, he seemed to open up just a little bit more. He seemed to soften, even, to the point that he now seemed to almost welcome her presence in his house. Camilla refused to stop and ask herself just why it made her so happy that an emotional connection was slowly but surely beginning to
form on top of a sexual one. It was dangerous territory, and she decided that it was best if she steered clear away from it.
It was one evening, halfway through dinner, after a particularly intense session on the Persian-like rug in the living room that he finally relented.
Dirk looked up from his bowl of chili and said, “I guess you could walk around other parts of the house now. If you’d like.”
Camilla froze with the spoon halfway to her mouth. “Really?” she said, surprised. “Do you mean it?”
