Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
Case
I see her on the back deck as I cross the tree line, but as soon as I’m close enough for her to notice me, she rises and disappears inside. I speed up, ready to bust down her door, tripping over two uneven boards on her deck just as I hear the lock click into place. The stumble calms me slightly, so instead of kicking her door in like Python Keller might, I pound on it with a fist.
Grinding my teeth, I stare at the door, the muscles of my jaw aching. No answer. “Open this goddamn door, Miss Fancy Pants, I need to have a word with you.” I pound a little harder when she doesn’t respond.
“Go away. I’m working.” She sing-songs the words like the fucking VIP she thinks she is and my temper flares like gas thrown on a bonfire.
“Exactly what I should be doing!”
“I’m not stopping you, Mr. Biker.”
“The hell you aren’t!” A vein in my temple starts to throb. I pound again on the door. She peeks out from behind the curtain, pointing to my half-framed house.
“If you’re lost, your job site is over there,” she says. Goddamned brat!
“You cancelled my lumber order! And now it’s delayed until Monday.”
“I did no such thing,” she says sounding offended before changing her tone to an empathetic one. “But that’s unfortunate for you.”
I growl sounding like a beast and pound on the door again. “Get out here, woman! Let’s solve this like reasonable adults,” I yell.
“Yes, and you sound so much like a reasonable adult right now.”
Fuck, if she doesn’t have me there, and now I feel like we’re playing out the scene from Beauty and the Beast where Beast demands Belle come down for supper, then changes his tone and Belle daintily but haughtily refuses. Which reminds me of why I know that scene so well. It’s Reece’s favorite.
I take deep breaths until I calm my ass down because this isn’t about me. It’s about Reece. That’s when I notice the cell phone and book left on the little table where Tessa has been working. It’s the same book she was reading the first night we met.
With a dry laugh, I grab the book and phone and walk off the porch, intentionally pounding my feet as I go. Heading my regular route home, but I loop around and hop stealthily over the porch railing on the side without windows.
Planting my ass down next to the door, still out of sight, I lean back, punch my number into her phone under the contact name, Tank Long. I put the phone back onto the table ever so quietly before getting back into my stealthy position. Opening the book to read, I wait.
It takes exactly thirty minutes before I hear movement inside, and by then I’ve read a good chunk of the erotic romance, and I hate to admit it, but I can understand the appeal. The romance genre gets a bad wrap. I’m enjoying the book more than I thought possible.
Bad boy Tank Long is reinforcing ideas in my head and the scenes are hot, really fucking hot. The author has glamorized MC life, but it’s about fantasy, not reality. The heat between him and the heroine is beyond fiery though, and Tank wouldn’t put up with Sunshine Fancy Pants’ shenanigans. Her words from that first night repeat in my head. ‘Tank’s not here. Although, I probably wouldn’t mind if he was. He’s every woman’s fantasy.’
It’s another ten minutes before the door lock clicks but only after I phone her cell, and it starts ringing on the table. I look up as the door opens and she peeks around. She’s not looking down and I’m blocked by the door, so she hasn’t noticed me yet. She looks over at her phone.
“Tank Long, my ass,” she huffs as she steps back up into the doorway. “Bring it, big guy.”
Jesus, does she want me to… My cock starts swelling and that pisses me off, because being fucking turned on by feisty brats is a fucking curse, and my life isn’t some sort of erotic fantasy playing out for her pleasure, even if my cock thinks so.
I jump swiftly to my feet and block her with my arm. Her yip of surprise is incredibly satisfying.
“Oh!” Her lips part in an oval and her eyes widen as she realizes what’s happened. Those wide eyes, level with mine since she’s tall for a woman and also standing on the doorstep, are a beautiful mix of gold, green and amber. Her hair, even mostly tamed in a tight bun, seems to beg for freedom with tendrils springing out around her temples. The urge to run my hand up her nape and snatch the elastic away so I can grab a handful of those sexy-as-fuck curls, hits me hard.
My eyes dart back to her face, noting the stain of pink on her porcelain cheeks as if she’s just read my mind. I instantly wonder what that blush would look like on her ass, because if there’s one thing I want to do to this brat as much as pull her head back by the hair and kiss her fucking breathless, it’s to turn her over my knee and teach her what happens to haughty brats when they cross the wrong man.
The thought makes my dick spring from six to midnight irritating me further. How can I be so pissed off and hot for her all at once? And how the fuck am I so turned on by the thought of messing Little Miss Perfect up, tossing her neat blouse and slacks to wrinkle on the floor while I make her squirm and moan, first as I brand her gorgeous ass and then as I settle in for a lengthy session between those long, long legs, tasting and tormenting her until she’s fucking begging for my cock.
I want her outside to match her fiery inside.
I look away a moment to get myself under control before I do exactly what I’m fantasizing about and get arrested, but my head snaps back when she laughs. Stunned, I take a step back. When she stops laughing, she looks a little shocked herself but falls almost casually against the door jamb.
“Why the hell are you laughing?” I demand, through gritted teeth. She bites her lip and the pretty blush on her face brightens. I bet I could make it flush deeper. Fuck.
It takes a second for the blood to come back to my brain but when it does, I shoot my foot out to block the door again even though she no longer looks as if she plans on slamming it.
“You caught me by surprise.” She’s slightly out of breath from her laughter and I think it’s the first time I’ve seen her without her full armor. And just as I thought, she’s even more fucking enchanting. What goddamn man says enchanting?
I frown, trying not to notice her chest heaving and cross my arms.“I did, did I?”
“You’re rather sneaky, Mr. Biker.”
I almost smile back.
Almost.
“What I am, Ms. Harlow, is pissed off.” Her eyes dart to my crossed arms and back to my eyes.
“I can see that.” She bends, looking closer at the tattoo that runs down my bicep to my forearm.“This little guy here looks almost as if he’s winking when you stand like this.”
I growl, my brow furrowing in exasperation. “Can you please stop ogling my tattoo and pay attention to me?”
“I thought that was the point of tattoos. To be ogled.”
Again, she catches me off guard. “No. No more than when a woman dresses up for herself —to feel pretty and men think it’s a fucking invitation to hit on them.”
“Oh.” A glint in her eye warns me something saucy is coming. “So, you got them to feel pretty? Not to get hit on though.”
“No, I— fuck —you’re changing the subject!” I feel almost as if I’ve been on one of those spinning rides Reece like so much, that make the world dance around you for a few minutes while you regain your equilibrium, but when I do…
I narrow my eyes, grab the door and close the space between us so much I can smell her coconut shampoo. “You’re not biting my head off for once, Sunshine,” I say smoothly. “Which tells me I’m correct in assuming you’re the reason my day has started so badly.”
She gives me a small shrug and then pushes, yes pushes, me out of the way to walk out onto the deck. “Then we’ve got something in common there.”
“So, you admit it?” I demand, even though I’m off kilter again, mostly at her boldness but also at how fucking amazing she smells.
“I admit nothing, but do tell, Mr. Biker. What is amiss with your day? Did Jake wake you again?” She thumbs a spot beside the deck where some chickens are pecking the ground. “Believe me, I’m just as put out by him.” She follows the statement with a roll of her eyes.
Now my brows shoot up. “What is amiss?” I repeat, a little dumbly, but then pause. “And Jake is your fucking rooster, you’re not allowed to be put out by him.” Her face flashes a quick smile that irks me but when she bites her lip saucily I’m once again reminded my cock loves feisty women and this one is as feisty as they come.
“While Jake is the bane of my existence, he is not mine.” She shoots the rooster a hard glare as if to prove her point. “If it weren’t for the fact that my Gran would come back from the grave and beat my ass, I’d have had that guy in a roasting pan by now.”
“Forget the damn rooster!” I pause her words sinking in. “But put the ‘beat your ass’ on hold, we’re going to discuss that after.”
Her eyes widen but only for a second.
“What’s amiss is my cancelled lumber order!” My voice rises at the end, so I check my temper by gathering a breath, then point a long finger at her. “And you cancelled it.” The scowl on my face deepens as she bats her eyelashes, feigning confusion.
“Your lumber order?” Her delicate hand lands over her heart, a shocked expression on her face. “I would never.”
Christ! If it didn’t mean a fucking assault charge, I would most definitely have her squirming across my lap learning exactly how frustrating she actually is. And then I’d like to… My dick lurches, knowing my mind’s direction, so I stop my train of thought and focus on my anger.
“This isn’t a game, Tessa. I’m not one of the characters in your books.” I grab the book off the deck and shove it at her. “Sabotaging me isn’t amusing and won’t make a fun story for your fancy friends.It’s just pissing me off.” And getting me super fucking horny, my dick adds .
“And you don’t want to see me any more pissed off than I already am, little girl. Or I might take a page from Tank Long’s book.” I point at the romance novel now in her hand. “Seem Tank and I have a lot in common when it comes to how we like to deal with naughty women.”
There’s a flash of heat in her eyes, something she only let escape in her shock and before I can even consider the look, she gains back her control. Her eyes peruse me up and down. It’s not in disgust, but not in appreciation either. Ms. Royalty is deliberately assessing me like a I’m nothing more than a teapot at a garage sale, not only gaging whether I’m worth the price, but also whether she even needs a new teapot at all, and she’s doing it just to put me in my place. Just like I used ‘ little girl’ to knock her off her high horse, which—fuck me—only backfired since my dick liked it way too much.
“I’m not a damned teapot!” I yell, once again, losing control of my normally cool temper.
“Most certainly not! You’re a man.” She pulls a face—one that looks as if she’s assessing my sanity. “Dear Mr. Biker, do you need an ambulance?” She reaches forward, clamping her hand on my biceps. Her touch sends a jolt of warmth through me right to my cock. Fuck me, this woman is too hot and too damn feisty. “You couldn’t possibly be mistaken for something as delicate as that. Why look at the size of these—” She licks her lips. “Pythons.”
With her words I stumble back a few steps. Does she know who I am? Was, who I was. Has she researched me? Found out I was undercover as Python Keller? I blink as she carries on talking.
“…but you certainly would make a lovely character. The readers love big dominant tattooed protagonists these days.” She swallows hard, taking a slow but heaving breath as if the memory undoes her a little. But then she’s back to stuffy ol’ Tess and releases that breath dramatically. “But I write historical romance and tattoos like yours—” She pauses to brush one of her hands over my arm, this time delicately. “Would not be historically accurate.”
“So, tell me then… how did men historically deal with badly behaved women?” I grab her above the elbow as she releases me so she can’t escape. Swallowing audibly, her eyes flash with uncertainty. The electric zap of our touch hits me again hard in the gut, giving me further urges. And it’s not to spank her sassy ass this time. Instead, I want to give it a dirty squeeze and kiss her. Not a nice kiss either. No, I want to own that saucy mouth, boss it around with my own because she is so damned over the top I can’t keep my head from spinning.
I shake my head, once again clearing it of those unhelpful thoughts. She’s playing me. From standoffish, to arrogant and demanding, to flirty and teasing — even if it’s mostly condescending—and now she’s acting all uncertain and timid. And the contradiction does things to me.
If it’s a game you want, Tessa Harlow… Without fully thinking it through, I grab the back of her neck with rough fingers, my palm resting just above her collar bone and pull her face so close to mine I can feel her hot breath. “Would one of your characters do this?”
I kiss her. The punishing kind I’ve been fantasizing about.And it feels so good to have her physically under my control.
She stiffens and shoves against my pecs, but I don’t release her, I only wrap my other hand around her hip and wrench our bodies closer. Hers is soft, even as she struggles. But when her pulse turns from fluttering beneath my palm to pounding, I know she’s not going anywhere. She kisses me back, and damn, this uppity historical romance author can kiss!
She moans against my mouth, her hand no longer pushing, but curling into the material of my shirt and fisting as if she’s holding me there. But it’s not necessary because, hell, not even a crowbar could pull me off her now. I move my hand from her hip to grab a handful of her ass, and squeeze. A mewl escapes her mouth and it goes straight to my cock, which is as hard as rod iron right now.
“Is that your hammer or are you happy to see me?” she whispers breathlessly as I pluck at her lips with my own. I chuckle because my hammer is hanging from my tool belt but we both know that’s not what she’s referring to. I move to her neck, my tongue tasting her sweet skin, and she practically purrs, her fingers gripping me tighter.
Tessa tips her head back on a needy moan, not only giving me more access but encouraging it. I growl against her soft skin and kiss her at the junction on her neck and shoulder. I grunt as she buries her hands into my hair. Tugging a little too roughly, she tries to bring me back to her mouth. I swat her ass, sharply.
“Behave, little girl.” I nip her but give her my mouth. She shivers at my words and hitches her leg up so I can grab her thigh and pull her hot center against my throbbing cock. Now, I moan, because Jesus fuck, we can’t keep going like this, right here on her porch. I’m seconds away from tearing off her clothes, setting her ass on the railing, and driving my cock so deep inside her, she’ll sees stars—no, she’ll see fucking galaxies.
I loosen my grip, and she pulls back, suddenly all stiff and self-controlled again. Smiling sardonically, she tries to hide the fact that she’s off kilter but it’s in the way she breathes, swallows too hard, and has to concentrate to keep her back straight.
“If you weren’t such a masterful kisser and you didn’t discombobulate me quite so much with your expertise, you’d be on your knees clutching your man ovaries. But as it turns out, I haven’t been kissed liked that in a very long time, maybe never. And I quite liked it.”
And as if that isn’t shocking enough, she adds, “It seems I might like it rough with a sexy, dominant, tattooed biker.” She twists her head to the side. “I am curious though. Why do you taste like butterscotch candies? I thought only old people liked them.” With a small smirk on her red swollen lips, she adds, “You can get the hell off my property now.”
As I stand there, jaw loose for the first time since I’d stormed over here, she spins on her foot and trots back inside, tripping on the deck board that’s lifting right in front of the door. I try to catch her, but she catches herself and before I can even see if she’s okay, she slams the door in my face.
What the fuck just happened?
I’m about to pound on the door, to do I don’t know what — maybe kiss her again, maybe finish what’s so clearly been started according to my dick, when I hear a truck’s back-up beeper coming from my property. I narrow my eyes at the door wondering what to do a moment longer before turning to leave. But after only a few steps, I swiftly change my mind and turn back. Dropping to my haunches, I yank a few nails and my hammer from my tool belt and temporarily fix the loose boards on the back porch.
While I’d get a great deal of satisfaction turning Sunshine Snooty Pants over my knee and giving her a wickedly sore ass, I don’t want her actually getting hurt. And if we’re going to be storming back and forth between each other’s properties, there had better be safe pathway.
As I bang down the final board, I make a mental note to replace the boards later. And as I walk back to my job site, I add another thing to my to-do list—mow a damn straight path through the field because she won’t use the one I’d already made. But first, I’m calling every single company on my contracting list so they know no one can cancel my orders but me. Especially not my bratty, sexy-as-hell neighbor.
I look over my shoulder. Tessa’s back on the deck, arms crossed protectively around her middle. I’m still close enough to see her bewildered expression and it makes me smile. Pretend as she might, that kiss tilted her jeweled crown.
Stopping at the treehouse, I rub my hand on the back of my neck. Too bad it also discombobulated me. With one last glance back, I shake my head and go help unload my lumber.
“Your boss said I couldn’t get my order for three days,” I say, walking up to the delivery guys while the crewman uses a forklift to unload the lumber.
The two men look at each other and smirk before the bulkier of the two speaks. “Seems your wife phoned the boss’s wife back and you were put on our delivery schedule again for this morning with specific instructions to drop off no earlier than ten am.”
“He’s not married,” Mack replies with a grunt, giving me the side-eye as he reaches for another stack of two by fours.
“Girlfriend then?”
“Whatever, let’s just unload,” I grumble.
Mack smirks. “Nah, just a pain in the ass neighbor who also happens to be sexy as fuck.”
All three men look across the field to the cottage, so my eyes follow.
I can’t see much from where I stand but my gut tells me, Tessa’s out back tapping happily away at her keyboard. I look at my watch and note it’s exactly ten-oh-nine am.
You win this time, Sunshine, but you won’t best me next time.