Chapter 10
CHAPTER
TEN
Erica
“Oh, Brew.” I jump, startled. “Sorry, I didn’t know anyone was still in the office.”
“Just gettin’ home,” he says. He’s tired. His face devoid of any emotion, but that’s normal for my boss. “What are you doin’ here so late?”
“I was actually just catching up on a bit of work since Olive is at Cami’s tonight.”
He frowns. Goddamn it. Normally Brew isn’t around when I’ve been at the office late. He’s usually at the clubhouse, or wherever it is he goes when he’s not here.
“Workin’ overtime?”
“It’s fine, just a little busier than usual. I had Nova helping me with the filing while you were gone,” I say. “She’s actually a nice young lady once you get to know her.”
His frown deepens. “A nice young lady? You sure we’re talkin’ about my cousin?”
I laugh. “Yes. I think she just likes to keep busy.”
“You mean out of trouble? Trust me, that one can get into trouble faster than you can blink. If you’re overworked, we need to hire some help.”
“I don’t like to ask for anything,” I say. “But business has picked up a lot these last few months.”
He runs a hand over his face, as if only just realizing it himself. “I should’ve noticed.”
“It’s fine.” I wave a hand at him. “I’m not unhappy here. Mondays and Fridays are the worst just because they’re typically busy days. I don’t know how you feel about Nova maybe filling in, she really helped me out.”
“Nova?”
“Keep it in the family?” I shrug. “You know she could handle the accounting, and like I said, something to keep her busy. She needs the money.”
“I’ll talk to Haze and Logan about it.”
We’re both standing, and while I’m not tall, he seems bigger in this dull light. He takes up all of the room between my desk and the wall, essentially caging me in.
A flutter goes through me that I’m not just locked in here with him in the dead of night, but that I like it. I want it. Holy crap, what’s come over me? I didn’t want to admit to myself I didn’t like him not being around. I missed him.
You’re losing it. LOSING IT.
I clear my throat. “Was there something else?”
“Yes. You don’t need to be here workin’ at night.”
“I honestly don’t mind.”
“Well, I do,” he says. “Feel like shit thinkin’ you’re here burnin’ the candle at both ends and don’t speak up about it.”
“That’s probably true, and I should have said something, but—”
“But you don’t like to make waves?”
I shake my head. “No, I don’t, but I should know by now that I can talk to my bosses.”
I smell the whiskey on him, mixed with his intoxicating, faded cologne.
He’s not drunk, but the liquor makes his tone seem deeper than normal, huskier.
His deep tenor gets me in the feels at the best of times, but this is insanity.
It seems every time our paths cross, I’m lusting after my boss and trying to hide it.
“Is that what I am?”
I blink. Huh? “My b-boss?” I stammer, but I don’t mean to.
He moves closer. “You’re not afraid of me.” It’s not a question.
“Why would I be? You’d never hurt me.”
“What if I told you I hurt people all the time?”
“I would say that’s not intentional unless they deserved it.”
He snickers. “Don’t be so sure about that.”
He keeps freaking staring me down. This man.
He is a walking conundrum, and my mind tells me to leap over the desk and run.
My body, however? My body is all over it.
My heart rate kicks in so loud I’m sure he can hear it.
The blood pumps in my ears, making my cheeks flush.
And I’m so wet for him, for my boss, the man I should not be lusting after.
“Is that what you want, Brew? For me to agree with you? Tell you’re a big, bad wolf who terrifies me? Even though I know you’d never hurt me?” What in the world has gotten into me? Still, I plow on. “That I should keep my mouth shut and my eyes straight ahead and never question anything?”
When did he get so close to me? For a large man, he moves so stealthily that I didn’t even notice him coming closer.
He reaches for me, and I flinch. Instead of pulling back, he does the opposite; he cups one side of my face. “Don’t ever flinch from me. You’re right about one thing; I do hurt people, but I’d never hurt you.”
Oh, god. He’s touching me. He’s touching me!
“I said I know that already.”
“How can you be so sure?” He towers over me, and I want to reach out to him right back. Run my palms over his chest, down his long-sleeved Henley and over his rippling muscles.
Instead, I brush over his dirty MC patch that reads: Brew - NOLA Rebels MC with the club’s skull emblem.
Usually the guys have the position they serve underneath that, if they hold one, but regular club members just have their names. “Because I see what’s behind here.” I flatten my palm against his patch, over his heart. “Don’t tell me how, but I see it.”
He stares at me wordlessly. His eyes, so rich and yet so dark at the same time, captivate me. His eyes are amazing. I could stare into their cloudless depths all day, but not tonight. Tonight, they look like a storm that’s not just brewing, they’re in full destruction mode.
“You think you see somethin’, Sparky. But you don’t see shit.”
Sparky?
What the…
“You went away for a few days and came back with a new nickname for me?” I twist my lips, amusement in my tone. “Sure you didn’t miss me?”
We’re still touching each other. His hand is warm, slightly calloused like he’s worked hard his whole life, but it’s sending tingling sensations right through me.
“What if I did?”
Holy shit.
“What are we doing, Brew?”
“You’re teasin’ me, Mama, you have been for months.”
Mama.
I am royally screwed.
I swallow hard. Unable to deny it, I try another tact. “I could say the same about you.”
The side of his mouth lifts. “So you don’t deny it?”
“You’re quite the hurricane,” I say. “Not that easy to miss.”
I think he likes that. His eyes crinkle as he half smiles. Oh, what I’d give to see a full smile, or even better, him laugh. I’ve seen the miracle a couple of times, not many, though. Usually, it’s when Sawyer hurts himself, or his brother makes a suggestion that’s ludicrous.
Brew can deny it all he wants, but he has a good heart, and that isn’t just me trying to see some good in him, which I do. That’s me using every instinct I have. I don’t want to feel this way, but it’s like I can’t stop myself
His voice drops an octave as he bends to my ear. “Wouldn’t be easy to miss bailin’ you up against this desk and fuckin’ you senseless, would it, Erica?”
My eyes flutter closed for half a second at his dirty words. “That would be… mildly inappropriate.”
He snickers, and did he just… sniff me? He makes a groaning sound as his nose grazes my pulse point. “You changed your perfume.”
I changed it a few weeks ago. Until recently, I always wore Anais Anais, but I found something a little more fresh and floral.
“Peonies,” I say.
“I like this better.”
Holy shit. Did he really just say that?. I have half a mind to berate him, but his proximity stops me.
“Right about the time I cut my hair that you hate.” Yes, I’m buying time. He’s so close, his hand still holding my jaw, and my palm is straining against his cut.
I’m playing with fire, but I decide if he thinks he’s in charge of this situation, he can think again. Not happening. I’m the initiator here, not him, and that isn’t like me. It’s unnatural for me to take the lead in anything, but not in this.
Why does it feel whenever I’m with him though, I can be myself. My real self. The woman who actually wants to be pushed against the desk and fucked senseless by him. Only him.
“Grow it out,” he tells me.
“What if I like my hair shorter?”
“You’re prettier with longer hair. I like to have somethin’ to hold on to.”
He didn’t.
I slide my palm off the soft leather, moving to his chest as I feel and hear his intake of breath.
Over his shirt, I can feel his heart racing like a wild horse.
He’s affected by me. He’s into this just as much as I am.
Maybe he thought his crude comment would put me off, but it only seems to be spurring me on.
My veins feel like they’re on fire as I feel the hard ridge of his pecs. Man, oh man, Brew is ripped. It’s obvious he works out, but come on. Leave some brutes for the rest of the world.
“Fuck,” he mutters.
Bravely, I cast my eyes down and I see the bulge in his jeans. A big, fat bulge.
He’s got a hard on for me. Me.
I want to touch it. I know, I know, we’re going from first base right on over to third, but this is the power he has over me. I don’t like it, I don’t like not being in control of my emotions, but Brew has no idea he’s doing it, so it isn’t his fault. It’s my fault. I should tell him no.
Instead, I slide my hand down, feeling his abs as he holds his breath, then I untuck his shirt, sliding my palm onto his bare skin. Holy macaroni. His skin is warm, smooth, and rippling with muscles. Just like I knew he would be.
“You shouldn’t,” he starts as if reading my mind. Oh, I know I shouldn’t, but he started it.
“Why? You touched me first.”
“Is that what this is, blow for blow?” Our eyes meet. He’s intense, his jaw steeled and his eyes locked on mine. “Answer me.”
I continue my travels until I’m pressing my palm over his pecs. My insides almost curdle at his demand. “We shouldn’t be doing this, but yet here we are with our hands on one another.”
He moves his hand, gripping the back of my neck. “You think you can handle me?”
For the first time, I see his lips twitch in amusement.
“I escaped a cult and a horrible life before this, what makes you think I can’t?”
His eyebrows pop up ever so slightly. “Touché.” Then my insides flame when he adds in a dark voice, “You know what you’re doin’ to me?”
I feel like I have cotton wool stuck in my throat.
I can barely breathe. This man is so sexy.
He has no clue. None. I’m convinced of it.
He knows the effect he has on women, I’ve seen it at the clubhouse a million times, but I’ve never seen him act on it with my own eyes.
Why is that? Why does he not drag a sweet butt up to one of the rooms upstairs like the other single guys?
“The question is why haven’t you done anything about it before now?” There, tough guy.
He jerks back in surprise, my hand falling, hitting his belt buckle on the way down. We both cast our eyes to the bulge clearly visible tenting his jeans. “Because of that.”
My mouth opens, my eyes still south, and I want to grab it. I want to be wild, but I’m not that brave.
As if reading my mind, he snickers. “Told you, you couldn’t handle me.”
I tuck my hair behind my ears, my cheeks burning.
He’s right. I don’t know what I was thinking.
This isn’t me. I’m Erica. Dependable, loyal, abysmally boring Erica.
I never do anything spontaneous or fun. I live to ensure everyone else is happy.
And I don’t mean to do it, I’ve just done it so long that it’s engrained into me now.
“It’s not that,” my voice is quiet. “It’s that I haven’t done this in so long, I’ve almost forgotten how.”
I don’t know what I see in his eyes, but a thrill runs through me as he pushes me back farther into the desk. “How long?”
My eyes widen. “I—uh, that’s private.”
He quirks a brow. “You just had your hands all over me and now you wanna be shy?”
“I am shy, you big oaf!” I thump him on his chest with both fists, annoyed at myself more than anything. Then I see it. It’s glorious. His eyes soften as I sit my ass on my desk, my legs parting as he moves between them, and then he smiles. I love it when he smiles.
“Big oaf? Big bad wolf, you’re mixin’ your metaphors, Sparky.”
“And you’re drunk.”
He shakes his head. “Not drunk, but I bet your little panties are flutterin’ just thinkin’ about what I could do to you.”
Holy Jesus, Mary and Joseph. This man is filthy. Filthy and glorious and I can’t get enough of it. I want his mouth on me. I want his mouth everywhere.
He has no clue that my panties are soaking wet just imagining what he could do to me.
I open my mouth to speak, and he places a finger over my lips to quieten me. Being the daring woman I’ve just decided I’m going to be from now on, I don’t even think — I move slightly so the tip of his finger moves between my lips. And then I bite the tip.