Harrison (Devil's Flame MC Book 4)

by Romi Hart

  “I didn’t know it worked that way. I mean, the only knowledge I have of the lifestyle comes from Sons of Anarchy, and I hear that’s more accurate than any other show, but it’s still just a show. I know a couple of girls who run with your pack, though. They seem happy. I’m guessing it’s a satisfying way to live.” She left that open, not quite a question but still begging a response.

  He didn’t answer right away, but then he uttered, “I like it.” And there was nothing more.

  With an internal sigh, Regan tried to seek out a question that would draw him into a conversation. She’d had men come in here that barely spoke English be more engaging. And just because she was desperate to know more about Corey, maybe get him interested in her, he was practically comatose for all the interaction he offered. “How big is your club? I mean, do you know everyone in the club, or is it so large that you don’t all hang in the same crowd?”

  “They’re my family. I know them all.” At least there was emotion behind the statement, fierce loyalty and love. And almost indignation at the idea he wouldn’t know a name or face of any one man in the club. It spoke volumes about him, and she couldn’t help but like him all the more for it. She didn’t know much about him, but she already held more respect for him than the average guy.

  The kind of guy she was used to.

  Setting that aside, she focused on her work. He really was a mess, and she needed to give it her all if she was going to work any of these knots into submission. She only had an hour to do so, and these sessions seemed to go by so fast, especially when she had someone attractive to work over.

  She only wished he’d taken off the skivvies. She would have enjoyed a glance at the gluteus muscles. Especially since he didn’t have much to say. She liked a little entertainment to spark her interest.

  Since she wasn’t involved in conversation, she found herself humming along with the music, the tones familiar, as she worked his muscles and eased some of the grotesque knots in his neck. He really was a masterpiece, but it was as if someone had painted a mustache on the Mona Lisa as she felt the mess beneath the skin. She wanted to smooth it all away, see what fine, masculine beauty would shine through when he was in perfect condition, but the hour sped by, and when her timer sounded, she jumped, not even realizing how long she’d been at it. Corey obviously needed a number of sessions before she could even get to the deep tissue, as the order had been, but for now, this would have to do.

  She stepped back, washing her hands as he sat up and tilted his head side to side, his eyes wide but blinking. He seemed more at ease, as if he had much greater range of motion and a lot less pain. She only wondered why he’d been so quiet, almost standoffish. He’d been awake the entire time. She could tell the difference. This was her profession, one she’d been at for more than a decade, and she knew the instant someone dozed off.

  Usually, when a client got this quiet, they fell asleep with the relaxing atmosphere and the tension release. But Corey hadn’t, and yet, he said precious little the whole time, the last forty-five minutes completely silent. “Well, Corey, I think we made a little progress. What do you think?”

  She watched him from the corner of her eye, curious what he would say, but he was completely silent as he continued to stretch and grunt. Finally, he told her, “I know you said not to have high hopes, but I seriously feel like a new man. I can’t remember the last time I could pop my neck.” He actually smiled as he threw his head side to side again with that resounding crack each way.

  Regan winced. “Just don’t do that in front of me. It sounds like you’re going to pop your skull right off your spine.” She dried her hands and faced him, swallowing the desire that rose within her as she caught another glimpse of the rock hard chest and abs so cut they might have been tattooed to look that way. “You’ll need something for inflammation. These types of massages, especially when you don’t get them on a regular basis, cause that reaction and leave you in more pain for a day or two, if you don’t counteract them with some ibuprofen.”

  He nodded. “I’ll pick some up.”

  “You need a lot more work, but it’s not my job to pitch a sale to you. That’s what Lena does best.”

  He narrowed his eyes at her. “Lena?”

  “I believe she set you up in here. She’s our admin assistant.”

  “Oh, her,” he said with a chuckle. “I figured her for an Elsa.”

  “What?” Regan asked, confused.

  He shook his head and waved a hand in dismissal. “Never mind.” He stood and reached for the clothes in the basket, and Regan had to hold back a strangled sound as she got the best look yet at what those ridiculously white Fruit of the Looms covered. His ass was just as perfect as the rest of him, and she curled her fingers deep into the towel, itching to grab onto him and not let go.

  She’d been celibate far too long, apparently.

  “I’m going to schedule another session,” he said, his voice muffled as he pulled his t-shirt over his head. “How long should I wait before I come in again?”

  Don’t leave.

  Come back around 6:30. I’m off. I’ll give you the royal treatment.

  “Three days,” she squeaked out, hoping she wasn’t blushing at her wanton thoughts. “Give the muscles some time to rest and heal before we go at them again.” There, that sounded more normal. What the hell was wrong with her? She never ogled, never considered what it would be like to run her tongue over the places that her hands touched. And yet, she wanted to beg this man to let her worship him from head to toe.

  “Alright. Thanks, Regan. I appreciate the work. I do feel better.” Shaking off the sexual imagery, she gave him a nod as he finished pulling on his boots, admiring the way his jeans hugged his hips as he slid the cut back over his shoulders, and then she watched as he opened the door and walked out. Probably never to be seen here again.

  With a sigh, she took the used sheets and tossed them in the hamper under the counter. She knew better than this. She wasn’t the type to even consider her line of work as a good opportunity to meet men. But then, no one like Corey Logan had ever come in here before. He’d said he would make a follow up appointment, but Regan had heard that before, from men who showed a lot more interest in her and her work than Corey had.

  Shaking her head, she started to leave the room. She wanted to get a snack in before her next client arrived, but she stopped short, noticing something out of place. Glancing down at the counter next to the door, under the edge of the bottle of hand sanitizer, was a hundred dollar bill, tucked just right so it wasn’t covered but couldn’t fly away.

  Well, maybe Corey had been appreciative, of her skill if nothing else. On a whim, she tucked the cash in her back pocket and headed to the front desk rather than to the lounge. “Hey, Lena, did Mr. Logan set up another appointment?” she asked, hoping she didn’t sound anxious.

  Lena nodded as she spun her chair to face Regan. “He sure did. He requested you, so I couldn’t schedule him in three days, like he asked. You’re off. He’s scheduled in four days, same time, with you.”

  That was better than nothing, she supposed. “Excellent. He’s in bad shape. He needs a lot of work.”

  Lena smirked. “I wouldn’t mind working him over. But he doesn’t seem interested. I tried flirting with him. He’s either clueless or immune.” She shrugged, glancing at her nails. “He’s probably got a woman already. It’s really too bad.”

  It was too bad, if he was already spoken for. But for some reason, Regan didn’t think he was. He seemed like a loner, very quiet, and the way he acted when she talked about the Devil’s Flames, she had a feeling he was married to the club. “Not that you care,” Regan teased. “I’m sure, if you wanted him bad enough, you’d be willing to take your nail file and shank his girl.”

  Throwing her head back in laughter, Lena shook her head. “Well, there’s something I wasn’t expecting. You, knowing prison jargon.”

  A chill rolled down Regan’s spine, but she ignored it. “I’m ful
l of surprises.”

  But Lena shrugged. “I’m not, and you’re absolutely right. In fact, when he comes back in here, I’m going to flat out ask him if he’s attached, and I’m going to make a move either way. Unless, of course, you want a shot at him first. I would never stand in your way. I think you should let loose a little, maybe try Mr. Biker Boy on for size.” She waggled her eyebrows.

  Regan nearly moaned at the thought, picturing herself riding Corey as he sat on some gorgeous, rumbling bike. But she wasn’t going to divulge her secret fantasies to Lena. She didn’t even want to have them. They made her anxious, and if she kept this up, she was going to need as much massage therapy as Corey did. “No, go ahead. I’m good.” But she wasn’t. Heaven forbid she say anything to Lena, though. She was close with the girl now, but she also knew Lena was the source of pretty much all office gossip, and Regan didn’t want to be the headline news.

  As she went to the fridge to collect her apple slices and yogurt, Regan shook it off. Walking away from the conversation and the idea of a fling with Corey Logan was probably for the better. After all, she’d had such a rude awakening the last time she’d been in a relationship, assuming the best and getting the worst, that she didn’t need to go down that rabbit hole. There was no telling what sort of a person Corey Logan actually was, or any of his biker buddies, for that matter. Sure, the women she’d met who were involved seemed happy enough, and they obviously trusted their men.

  But how many were in the club? And those were just two out of a crowd. She’d taken probability and statistics in college. That was not nearly a large enough random sampling to make a broad, sweeping statement about all of them, and it didn’t mean that Corey was anything like the tall, dark one with her yoga instructor. And for all she knew, those women were faking it anyway.

  But as she absently chewed her snack, she had to wonder. She could tell herself she was dreaming and fantasizing all she wanted, but her gut instinct was that Corey was something special. He’d walked into her room for a reason, and she couldn’t tempt fate by not considering the meaning behind having met him, especially now, when she’d finally settled down and grown comfortable in one place.

  Lena would laugh at her. The girl didn’t believe in fate and destiny. And maybe she would get by with that. But Regan firmly believed that everything happened for a reason, and some universal power pulled the strings. She wasn’t a new age hippie. She left that to people like her yoga instructor. But she was a free spirit, one that had been weighed down and stunted for too long, and she followed the signs given to her.

  And there was a flashing exclamation point above Corey’s head, so to speak, a proverbial beacon that told her the man fit somewhere in her future, an important position. If she didn’t listen, she was bound to screw up and have to learn whatever lesson this life was supposed to teach her all over again in the next.

  Wadding up her trash and tossing it in the waste bin, she stood and arched her back, heading to the bathroom to clean up and get ready to go back to work. She had two more clients today, and she couldn’t spend the afternoon mooning over Corey or analyzing the future. She had to focus on her job and the health of her clients, if she intended to keep her regulars and be successful. She’d spent the last year building up her life here. She didn’t want to fall short of success because of a handsome face and dark, brooding manner. She could investigate Corey more when he came back. Maybe, the second time, he’d open up a little.

  Click here to keep reading Corey!

  Author’s Note

  Thank you for reading Harrison. I hope you enjoyed reading the story as much as I did writing it.

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  About the Author

  Romi writes steamy contemporary romance with hot alpha rugged bad boys and their strong heroines. You'll love her if you like reading books with passion, love and HEAs.

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