Cowboy Bikers MC #3

by Esther E. Schmidt

  I don’t do hugs if I can help it, and the bodyguards I used to surround myself with keep themselves and the rest at a safe distance. It’s all about personal space. I like to have mine to myself and not breached, it’s also why I don’t have friends nor pets. I have a very clean penthouse and I happen to like my ultra clean home. It’s all I’ve ever known and what my mother has taught me.

  Unlike Decker’s cozy cabin. Cozy being my choice of word to replace dirty. Because what other choice do I have but disguise my struggles? Yikes. I think I saw a spider when I changed into my other jeans and boots a little over an hour ago.

  Then I had to get into a truck with the dog in the backseat, hanging between us while his mouth was open, breathing. Okay, best not to remind myself of the smell and the lick in the face I received.

  Wet. Slimy. He sure needs a breath mint, but at least it shows he likes me. Or he tried to taste me so he can eat me later when I’m sleeping in his owner’s bed. Dammit all to hell I feel like a fish out of water here.

  And to think this rough, grizzly bear of a man is supposed to be my companion—bodyguard, special agent, cowboy, biker, whatever the heck he is—for the unforeseeable future. How many tasks can one man balance? Apparently, a lot since he’s been asked question after question by others who came into his office. And he gave orders to everyone the second he stepped out of the truck when we arrived at the junkyard. A junkyard. Another first for me.

  Everything is a first for me. Like the hug he gave me. If I would have known he would try to hug me I would have dashed out of reach, stopped him, whatever. But he moves quick for such a massive, muscled man.

  And the hug? His thick arms holding me tight? I could have lived happily ever after in his embrace. The clean scent, masculine roughness and yet oh so freaking pleasantly cocooned by safety.

  “You’re staring,” Decker mutters as he throws another file on his desk where he just shoved some papers inside of.

  “There’s not much else for me to do,” I simply state, feeling my cheeks heat from getting caught.

  My gaze wanders over the office and I can’t help but wrinkle my nose. Maybe I should start cleaning. If he’s working here all day and taking me with him, I could clean and feel better being here, and to make myself useful all in one go.

  “Ignore it. You’re not going to clean anything while you’re with me. I’ve received orders.”

  My gaze snaps to his. He did not just say that. Did he? “What orders?”

  His face doesn’t display any indication he’s judgmental about my weirdness when he points at his phone and says, “They were in the file I received. Your fear of germs, obsession with cleanliness, and the no contact request.” The corner of his mouth twitches. “I guess the text came in a little late for the last order.”

  He’s referring to our hug. Shit. The mere reminder is enough to make my body hum with endorphins. It’s been awhile since I’ve felt such emotions. And the hug was great, dammit. I’m sure a repeat is out of the question with the orders he just received.

  His head tilts and it’s as if he’s trying to suck my thoughts right out of my brain. “Care to tell me what’s going through your mind, Muriel?”

  “No,” I snap, making Hammer’s head rise and turn in my direction. Without thinking I blurt, “Sorry, Hammer.”

  Great. Now I’m talking to a dog. No, not talking, I’m freaking apologizing. To a dog!

  “There’s a nice start. First direct attention you gave back to Hammer. Is the reason you’re not into animals because they are—” He waves his hand toward his dog who is cheerfully chewing on a blanket covered with hair, drool, other goo, whatever. “Fussy.”

  My eyes widen. “Fussy? Slime, hair, creepy crawlers, germs…one, all, that’s what you’re classifying as fussy?” I squeak and might have used air quotes when I accented fussy.

  The corner of his mouth twitches. “Yeah. Fussy. See how you’re fussing? Kinda my point right there.”

  “I. Am. Not. Fussing,” I huff and glance around. “I happen to like living in clean surroundings.”

  “And when you’re on stage? People dancing, singing along, getting sweaty, coming by for an autograph and a picture when you’re done with your performance.” The man chuckles while I’m cringing at the mere thought.

  “My management has worked out a system for the fans. The tables are set up to keep them at a distance when I’m signing. And, no. No pictures. I’m not allowed.”

  “Not allowed?” he questions.

  My eyes slide to Hammer. “My agent, my management, my parents. They all put their heads together and decided a long time ago what’s best for me.”

  “Including no pets, no germs, no human-fucking-contact.”

  I mindlessly nod at his words. “My agent is a friend of my mother’s. They had a dog and about fifteen years ago he started to growl at me and wanted to attack me without reason. They later found out he had a brain tumor. I admit, I was a bit jumpy around dogs and my parents might have overreacted.” I shrug. “No animals, no danger of me getting hurt, right? My mother is a bit of a neat freak. And controlling. That too.”

  Decker nods thoughtfully. “What about the germs?”

  “My mother being a neat freak might have started some of it. But I research too many things for my own good. For instance, did you know that when you put strawberries in salt water worms come crawling out? Yep, don’t research things. It happens when you have too much time on your hands and no friends to hang around with.”

  “Why no friends?”

  “You and your freaking questions!” I snap and put my fists on my hips. “I’m an obnoxious bitch, okay? No one wants to be around me so they all scurry off as fast as they can. They hate my weirdness and I hate their germs. The only thing I’m good for is writing songs and singing them. That’s it. Oh, and maybe looking freaking pretty, or so I’ve been told. But I guess sometimes I don’t pull that off either.”

  I’m seething inside while his face doesn’t so much as twitch. No eyebrow raise, no crinkles, not so much as the corners of his mouth going up or down, nada. I keep staring until he slowly slides the chair he’s sitting on back, stands, and comes strolling toward me.

  He doesn’t stop until there’s just a few inches between us. I take a step back but the annoying man easily closes the distance again. His scent, spicy, leather, soapy clean—with a hint of I’m sure is all Decker—assaults my senses. My body starts to come alive, releasing endorphins yet again, creating happiness and anticipation for another hug. Closeness, a single touch, anything as long as it concerns him.

  I swallow hard and croak, “Do you mind?”

  His face inches closer and his breath feathers over my lips when he murmurs, “Don’t mind if I do.”

  It’s the same as with the hug. No preparation, no warning; instant collision. His mouth crashes against mine and his tongue slides between my lips, seeking entrance. Without thinking I engage and have to brace myself by grabbing his leather cut. The way this man kisses is as if he’s tearing me away from everything and throwing me on a cloud to be swooped into utter oblivion.

  My eyes are shut and I fully surrender to the warm tingles spreading through my body like wildfire. I’ve never experienced these kind of feelings. It’s addictive. The need to have more is a craving that’s becoming insatiable.

  His hands sneak to my hips to keep me in place as he presses his pelvis against me. I react with a gasp mixed with a moan when I feel his hard length rub against my belly. I’ve never felt this good and I want more. Way more. This should shock me since the mere thought of getting messy with anyone makes all my nerve endings stand on end but not when it concerns this man.

  Decker just swoops me away and I surrender effortlessly.

  “Decker, I need something from the yard if you expect me to—” The sentence cuts off and is followed by a chuckle before the person adds, “Hubba, hubba, is it bring a treat for lunch today? Mind sharing? If not, I’ll just watch.”

  A low gr
owl vibrates through Decker’s chest, his mouth is ripped from mine when he snaps, “Back off, Alfie. No watching. No sharing. She’s mine.”

  Sharing? As in they share women? Okay, I’m getting seriously grossed out here with all the mix and match switch, turn and whatever the hell more these guys do. I certainly did not need to know about the whole sharing angle.

  I dash away from Decker and wipe my mouth with the back of my hand. “I’m not his. Go and have lunch with anyone else far, far away from me. I’ll be right here, no worries. Right, Hammer? Hammer will keep me company while you two share away.” Rattling without using brain cells is apparently my new way of talking.

  Decker’s eyes narrow and without breaking eye contact with me he snaps, “Alfie, handle the issue yourself and make sure no one comes in here within the next few minutes.”

  “I can do that while standing right here as I watch you spank her sexy, curvy ass. Because you are spanking her, right? I would. She basically dismissed you and would rather spend time with your dog instead. Come on, let me at least watch, it’s been awhile since I’ve seen you in action.”

  I repeat. Gross.

  “Out. Now, Alfie.”

  “Fine,” Alfie grumbles and I hear the door fall shut the next instant.

  “Don’t even dare to think I’d let you spank me. You have orders: no touching. And don’t ever kiss or hug me again. I won’t allow it. And with what I’ve just heard, you guys don’t have issues with finding others to do—”

  “Fussy things with?” he easily supplies with a harsh growl in his voice.

  Why the hell is he pissed off? “Sex. Have sex with the three of you, or one on one and switch the girl, make the other watch, whatever you guys meant by sharing because you guys do share women, why else would Alfie ask? So, don’t degrade me with words you used before to shove my weirdness in a box. I’m not ignorant and you might have caught me by surprise two times but that ends now. And if I want to clean this office or the bedroom, what-freaking-ever, I will. Because no one tells me what to do.”

  “Are you done?” His voice is a growl with a hint of laughter filtering through.

  It makes me stomp my foot and growl back as I wave my hand, “No, but I assume you want to say something so go ahead.”

  He snatches my wrist and pulls me forward. Our bodies collide and before I can so much as utter one single word, his lips are back on mine, planting a hard kiss on my mouth stunning me into silence.

  He steps back and says, “No need to get pissed over what happened in my life before you got here. And if you must know since it has your panties in a twist, I haven’t fucked in months. Alfie likes to take more than one person at the same time or watch them before joining in. And who are you to judge? Fucking choosing my dog to hang out with over me. My dog. The whole drool, hair, and fussy shit you hate.”

  “I don’t hate it.” I cringe at the list he just recited. “I just like things clean,” I mutter.

  He leans forward and pins me with a stare where lust openly swirls. “Having sex is anything but clean. It’s sweaty. Fluids mixing, sloppy kisses, touching all over. And if you have a virgin ass I might be up to popping that cherry, imagine all the possibilities with having dirty sex.”

  “Sorry to disappoint you there, Mr. Raunchy. Anal isn’t unfamiliar for me,” says the virgin woman who is lying through her teeth.

  Not to mention my poor anus is clenching shutter than shut at the mere thought. His head tips back and barks of laughter fill the air. I cross my arms in front of my chest and keep glaring at the irritating man.

  He eventually quiets down and is shaking his head slowly when he reaches out and cups the back of my neck to pull me closer. “Lying doesn’t suit you, nor do I tolerate it.”

  “I guess you bring out the best of me,” I try to sneer but it comes out breathlessly.

  What the hell is wrong with me? I hate the whole jumping emotions and him pulling on my every nerve ending thing. I don’t think I’ve met anyone I’ve been rude to or has affected me like this. So much for a quiet getaway I had in mind and how they told me this would be a moment to relax and enjoy some quiet time.

  Get away from the stalker, they said. It’ll be fun, they said. Spend time relaxing, write a few songs, come back with double energy and a new album ready to record. Right. If I would believe the man standing before me I won’t have anything other than a painful anus. Nope. I should leave.

  My shoulders sag. “Why don’t you call Nick? He can come get me and bring me somewhere else. I’m drained. And I miss my phone, dammit. Why did he have to take my freaking phone?”

  Not that I have anyone important to call, but my phone has always been a portal to the outside world. Something I can actually control myself instead of everyone putting walls up where the only direction is to follow the path they create. While all I want is to follow my own road for a change.

  “You’re not going anywhere, darlin’.” His voice sounds resolute.

  And there we have it again...walls drawn up, a finger pointing in the direction someone else wants me to go in. I take a deep breath and slowly let it rush out of my body in an effort to release the tension.

  It’s not helping. Not helping at all. And the penetrating stare this man keeps giving me only intensifies my body to be strung tight.

  CHAPTER THREE

  — Decker —

  I tip her chin up with my thumb and hate the tortured look in her eyes along with a hint of defeat.

  “Nick took your phone to cut off all ties to the outside world so you’d have a clean break. This stalker knows your routine, where you live, and who your close friends are. Hell, it might be someone close or he might have your phone duplicated to know your every move. It’s a precaution and it was right of him to do so.”

  She nods absently at my words and it does make me curious enough to ask, “Who would you call? A friend? An ex? Check what your friends or fans are saying about you? I read your agent hired someone a while ago who places content on your social media for you, so it’s not the online interaction and selfies you’re missing.”

  The glare is back on her face and she tries to struggle against the hold I have on her.

  “Stand still,” I order with a little dominance in my voice and she freezes instantly. “Before the phone discussion, before Alfie interrupted us, we were both enjoying ourselves. Then you got pissy over his words which made you aware I had a sexual history before you got here. And suddenly you’re bouncing all over the place. Let’s get one thing clear so you don’t have to get pissed and expectations won’t falter. I didn’t count on you being this bundle of woman I would want to possess in every way. I will put your safety first but I’m adding pleasure along with it. We’re going to work on the whole germs and obsessive cleanliness thing too since I can clearly see it causes a blockage in your life. It adds stress and keeps you from doing things you might enjoy. Like petting Hammer which you haven’t done yet, but I can see the look in your eyes when my hand strokes him.”

  Her gaze shifts to Hammer and I can’t help but tease her when I add, “Or is it my touch that puts the longing in your beautiful eyes.”

  She shoots me another glare. “You’re so full of yourself.”

  “Full enough to fill you up,” I murmur in a husky tone and watch how her pupils dilate.

  Yeah, the instant heated connection between us is mutual, that’s for fucking sure. Without thinking I crash my mouth against hers. One swirl of our tongues starting a sensual dance and she melts against me.

  That’s what she needs; to turn off her brain and give into the pleasure her body craves. Hell, I crave it right along with her. I can’t remember if any woman walking this earth has ever triggered me the way she does.

  Protectiveness is skyrocketing and it causes all my senses to overreact. She’s been in my life a handful of hours and has lit a fire that’s already spiraling out of control. And with her stalker issue I need to be in full control. I regretfully pull away and place my forehea
d against hers.

  “I’m going to wrap things up here and then I need to have a chat with my president, Weston. I didn’t count on you being this much of a distraction. Another pair of eyes is needed for me not to fuck up. Backup is mandatory in every situation, most certainly when it involves a stalker.”

  “Shouldn’t you have arranged it before I arrived?”

  She’s right to question this, and I would have arranged it beforehand. But I only obtained a full report a moment ago, and from what I’ve read; it’s safe to assume she’s not the target of her stalker.

  “Everything the stalker did up to now shows he wants you alive and well. It’s those who come too close to you who are at risk. And if all I want to do is undress you with my eyes and roam my hands over your naked body and let my tongue taste every inch of your skin, I’m kinda distracted to also watch our back along with it. So, you see, when you got here my main focus was you since I’m always alert enough to assess my surroundings. You becoming my instant weakness is a breach of safety neither one of us can afford nor expected. But I’m going to request Ledger to help me out, clearly Alfie is off the fucking table with his open interest in you and watching us.”

  She creates some space between us and her forehead puckers. “I get the fact that I don’t have a say in any of it. There’s very little in my life I’m allowed to control, but you’re very forward. Isn’t this—” She points between us. “Something you discuss first before jumping to anything else?”

  “Your body doesn’t lie. You melt against me whenever we touch, it’s safe to say we crave the same thing,” I simply state.

  One of her well-groomed eyebrows shoots up. “Sex. A fun ride before I’m out of your hands and you can go back to sharing other women with Alfie.”

  Fuck. I don’t think she’s ever going to get rid of the picture Alfie visualized in her brain.

  But her words makes it clear for me, and it also makes me realize something crucial. “I’ve only ever had one relationship, and it wasn’t a normal one either. She worked at administration in the building I was located in, and we kinda fell into a routine. But I guess you’re questioning the timeline, right?”