Chapter 11
CHAPTER ELEVEN
“ H ey,” Clara greets, her voice a throaty purr.
I jerk up my chin in greeting before handing her the black helmet I purchased especially for her to use when she rides with me. Her face pales as she places the helmet onto her head and climbs onto my bike. Even though she’s been riding with me the past three weeks, the panicked expression that crosses her face hasn’t once altered.
The only thing that has changed is her clothing selection. She no longer wears designer dresses and fancy skirts, opting instead for black trousers or the occasional pair of jeans. Although her clothing choices are more suitable for riding on a motorbike, I’d be lying if I said I don’t miss watching her strut around Inked in her figure-hugging dresses.
Actually, come to think of it, I’m not the only one complaining. A handful of male customers have cited objections the past three weeks. Some even went as far as stating I should make it mandatory for Clara to wear a dress as her uniform.
I may have dug my tattoo gun in a little deeper those days .
Things between Clara and me have been following along the same path that started when she began working at Inked, although she’s a lot less bitchy now. Don’t take my admission the wrong way. She doesn’t hesitate to whip out her fiery tongue when needed. She can argue with the finest, but instead of unleashing a torrent of malicious words with no just cause, she reserves them for more compelling moments.
Take last week, for example. Johnny was happily accepting part of his tattooing payment in a non-monetary way. Stupidly, he decided to do the exchange in the supply closet of Inked. When Clara walked in on them, let me just say, Johnny was lucky he walked away with only a slight limp. The bunny he was entertaining… she’ll think twice before she calls Clara a skanky bitch again.
When we arrive at Inked, Clara climbs off my bike and hands me her helmet. “Thanks for the ride. It should only be a few more days until my car is returned. It was all just a huge misunderstanding.”
I nod, pretending I haven’t heard the same declaration twice a day for the past three weeks. It eats away at me not knowing what’s going on with her life, but no matter how badly I want to know why her car was towed the same night she got served an eviction notice, I won’t force her to share. Clara is only just coming out of her shell, so I won’t do anything that will risk her taking a step backward. It is also not my place to demand an explanation of her private life. Although our relationship has veered more toward the friend zone the past few weeks, I’m still her boss, so it wouldn’t be appropriate for me to demand anything from her.
“Are you listening?” I mumble to my cock while shadowing Clara into the back entrance of Inked.
I’d like to say my cock’s interest in Clara has waned as the weeks rolled by, but unfortunately, that isn’t the case. Whether she’s giving me lip or whining about the outdated computer in my office, my cock’s attention has never wavered. I may not have any claim to her, but if you asked my cock the same question, I’m confident he’d tell you Clara owns his ass. He doesn’t care about protocol or morals. He just wants Clara.
Clara’s brisk pace slows to the speed of a tortoise when the crew of Inked breaks into a poorly serenaded version of “Happy Birthday” the instant they spot her sauntering down the hallway. She stiffens before her wide eyes bounce between her work companions and me. When she notices the triple-layered chocolate cake I asked Ryder’s missus to bake for her, a single tear escapes her eye and rolls down her ashen cheek.
“I can’t,” she mutters under her breath as she barges past Charity, nearly sending her and her birthday cake toppling to the ground.
The crew stops singing as they follow Clara’s swift bolt down the corridor leading to my office. After slipping inside, she closes the door so harshly, I’m sure the patrons dining at Betty’s Burgers felt the ripple effect.
I turn my eyes toward Diesel. “Open up the shop and tell my first client I’ll be out in a few.”
He nods before instructing the rest of the crew to get ready for a normal workday.
Charity smiles a tense grin as she hands me Clara’s birthday cake. “She’s still trying to find her place in this family, Brax.”
Nodding, I reply, “I know.” But I’m still shocked by Clara’s reaction. I shouldn’t be, though. Nothing about her has ever been simple.
After placing the cake on the break room table, I stride to my office. Clara’s head lifts from a barrage of paperwork on her makeshift desk on the couch when the creak of the door’s old hinges announces my arrival. Even though she puts on a brave front, I can’t miss the tears staining her blemished cheeks .
“We weren’t going to force you to eat it,” I jest, saying anything to ease the thick tension suffocating the room. “The guys just wanted to get you something for your birthday.”
From her silence, you’d assume she didn’t hear a thing I said, but from the way her chin is quivering, I know she heard every word.
I gather documents from the couch before taking the seat next to her. When she fails to acknowledge my presence, I place my index finger under her chin and lift her head. Her glistening glacier-blue eyes appear to be staring straight at me, but they’re looking right through me.
“What’s the deal? Don’t the rich celebrate birthdays?”
Now her eyes are focused on me, and they’re fierce enough they could cut through glass. “Does a card showing up a week after your birthday count?” she mutters ever so quietly.
I shrug. “Depends on what’s in the card? A check with a million bucks, I’d happily accept years later.”
Her lips twitch as she battles to hold in her smile, but she maintains her silent stance. I continue with my endeavor to force a smile on her face. Even if she can get my hackles up quicker than any woman before her, I hate seeing the dejected look her eyes are carrying, even more so since it’s her birthday.
“If you thought their singing was bad, wait until you see the wilted bunch of daisies waiting for you on the counter. Oh, and don’t be surprised when you open your box of chocolates to discover it’s half-empty. They’re an impatient bunch, but Johnny promised he saved you all the good flavors.”
The heaviness on my chest lessens when the quickest smirk stretches across Clara’s face. “They brought me gifts?” she murmurs ever so softly.
Her smirk turns into a full smile when I nod. “Nothing fancy, but they purchased them themselves. Well, except the flowers. Johnny stole them from his neighbor’s garden.”
Clara’s smile enlarges even more.
I wait for it to fade before saying, “I have one final thing to give you. It was a little hard to wrap, so I didn’t bother.”
Her surprised eyes bounce between mine when I delve my hand into my pocket and pull out a key. The longer she stares at the car key, the more her pupils dilate.
“It’s nothing like your old car, but it will get you from point A to point B safely,” I advise her shocked expression.
Her lips quiver as she begins to speak. “I can’t accept it, Brax. It’s too much.”
“You can accept it, and you will.” My voice is sterner than I expected. “This isn’t a gift, Clara. It is a payment for all those late nights you worked your first eight weeks at Inked.”
Her eyes snap to mine. Shock is all over her face as I stare into her eyes while nodding my head, silently advising I’m aware of the work she put into the shop after hours. I only discovered her strong work ethic after going through the surveillance tapes the day following our incident in the parking lot of Inked.
For the first eight weeks of her employment, Clara stayed back a minimum of an hour every night, restocking the supply closet and preparing the invoices for the following day. She even went as far as donning a pair of fur-lined pink gloves to tackle the male staff bathroom a handful of times. I could tell from the determination in her eyes those first few weeks that she’d do anything to secure a permanent position at Inked, but I didn’t realize her need for employment was so dire she was willing to scrub a urinal.
“I really needed the job,” she murmurs under her breath, confirming what I already suspected.
I gently pinch her chin and lift her eyes back to mine. “I know. But you didn’t need to break your back for it. Your work ethic during the opening hours already earned you your place in the Inked family.” After setting the key for the piece-of-shit car the crew of Inked chipped in for into her palm, I nudge my head to the door. “Your new ride is in the lot. Take the rest of the day off and go spend your birthday with your friends. It will be a hard feat, but I will hold down the fort tonight.”
Clara’s teeth graze over her bottom lip. “Thanks for the offer, but I don’t have anywhere to go.”
“Sure you do.” My eyes dart between hers. “There are at least a dozen restaurants in Ravenshoe that will happily serve vegetable scraps as if they’re a main course.”
A rare and genuine smile etches onto her plump lips. If that isn’t rewarding enough, the little giggle that spills with her smile is worth spending my days off scouring the used car lots searching for the perfect car for her. This is the first time I’ve heard her real laugh. I hope it isn’t the last.
When her laughter dies down, she locks her eyes with mine. “It isn’t that I don’t have a place to dine. I just don’t have anyone to go with me.” The last half of her sentence comes out in a faint whisper as her eyes stray to the floor.
My brows furrow. “What about your drunk chook-cackling friends? Surely, they would have a spare hour to help celebrate your birthday?”
Since I know Clara’s momma had dementia, I forgo mentioning her family, not wanting to upset her on her birthday any more than I already have.
Clara’s eyes lift from the floor and connect with mine. Confusion and another expression I can’t read mars her face.
“The friends you showed up with the night you got your tattoo,” I explain to her puzzled expression.
I swallow the brick in my throat when her eyes narrow into thin slits at the mention of her tattoo. Apparently, she hasn’t gotten over our first tussle in the ring yet.
“I know who you are referring to,” she replies, her tone bitter. “Unfortunately, they’re too… busy to socialize with me today.”
I scoff. “It’s your birthday. Tell them to get un-busy.”
She rolls her eyes before rising from the couch. “It’s fine, Brax, honestly. I’d prefer to stay here anyway. Wasn’t it you who said Inked is my family now? Shouldn’t I spend my birthday with my family?”
Even though she’s asking a question, she doesn’t wait for me to reply. She just moves to my desk to gather a pile of unpaid invoices from the top.
I glare at her in a shocked, disbelieving type of way. “You’d rather stay here than hang out with your friends?” When she nods, I say, “I’m sorry, Princess, but I’m calling bullshit.”
She cranks her neck to the side. “Lucky for me, your opinion doesn’t bother me in the slightest.”
I push off the couch and step closer to her. “What’s really going on, Clara? The princess who walked in here demanding a job three months ago would never turn down the opportunity to live it up on the good side of the tracks.”
Her shoulders square as she murmurs something under her breath. She’s so quiet, I miss every word she speaks.
“You need to speak up. I’ve been told on a few occasions I have a problem with my hearing.” Even though I was aiming for witty, my comment comes out a little snarky.
When Clara ignores me, I grasp the top of her arms and force her to face me. I’m taken aback when her eyes lift to mine. Gone is the vibrant spark that typically alights her fiery gaze replaced with a pair of eyes that look lost. I’d even go as far as saying haunted.
Fear grips my heart when she snaps her eyes shut, battling to hold in her tears .
Fuck, I hope she doesn’t cry. The tears she shed weeks ago in my grandmother’s room still haunt me.
“Clara—”
My words stop when the plumpest set of lips brush against mine. I freeze, not to give myself time to assess the situation but to investigate the unique taste of her mouth—minty-cool freshness with a hint of sweetness and warmth.
Only a woman as complicated as Clara could have her lips described as warm and cold at the same time.
Forgetting the seriousness of our conversation , I run my tongue along the seam of her lips, daring her to open her mouth for me. My hang-ups about not messing with a member of my crew are left in the dust when her lips part, giving me full access to her mouth. My cock pulses against the zipper of my jeans as one of my hands moves to her nape, securing her mouth to mine, while the other drops to the curve of her back to pull her closer.
Although I keep my lips sealed over hers, I don’t take the kiss any further than an innocent game of tonsil hockey in the janitor’s closet at my local high school. If she wants this kiss to go further, she’ll need to make all the moves. This way, I won’t fall into the trap of sexually harassing my staff. If anything, she’s assaulting me, and I’ll love every goddamn motherfucking minute of it.
A rough groan tears from my throat when Clara delves her tongue inside my mouth in a long, tantalizing stroke. Her kiss is robust and determined—just like her personality—but warm and enticing. For a woman whose heart appears to be carved from ice, her kiss causes a roasting fervor of excitement to scorch my veins. I shouldn’t be surprised she knows how to kiss. She’s no ordinary woman. Her kisses are no different.
The skin on my torso prickles with goosebumps when she slips her hands under my shirt to rake her nails against the skin of my lower back. I’m certain she can feel the effect her touch has on my body, but I don’t fucking care. If she wants to touch me, I sure as hell ain’t going to stop her. The only thing I’m stopping is my desire to ravish her on my desk. Why? Because Clara isn’t a bunny, so I won’t treat her as if she is one.
When I pull my lips away from hers and she whimpers, my strength is pushed to its absolute limit. I skim my lips along the edge of her jaw and down her delicate neck before stopping at the collar of her shirt. Just knowing my lips are near an area of her skin I’ve never seen has my cock throbbing furiously and my restraint faltering. It’s a thrilling and torturous experience at the same time.
The throaty moans toppling from Clara’s throat while I nibble on her neck have an edge of danger to them—a clear warning I’m stepping over the line of what is acceptable for an employer and his staff. But, in all honesty, I don’t give a flying fuck. My cock… No. Correct that. I’ve wanted this for months.
From the very moment I laid my eyes on her going toe-to-toe with Johnny in the foyer of Inked, I’ve been dying to find out if her feisty personality holds the same level of intensity in the bedroom. From the way her nails are raking my back and the warmth between her legs two layers of jeans can’t conceal, I’ll say my answer is an unequivocal and resounding yes.
My poorly wavering constraint gets harnessed when the creak of my office door sounds through my ears, closely followed by a deep voice. “Your three o’clock is getting snarky.”
My eyes shift to Diesel at the exact moment Clara pulls away from me so abruptly, a blast of warm air smacks me in the face. Pretending there isn’t a massive elephant of awkwardness sitting in the room, Clara peruses the invoices on my desk while muttering, “I’ll be sure to get these paid right away.” She lifts her lust-filled eyes to me. “Was there anything else you needed me to do?”
She puts on a good act of being unaffected, but her blemished cheeks and wide eyes are giving away her true composure. She looks exactly how I want her to look—like a woman in the process of being claimed.
Clara’s head rockets to the side when I instruct Diesel to tell my client I’ll be there when I’m good and ready. His hooded gaze bounces between Clara and me for numerous seconds, his face expressing the words his mouth fails to produce. I knew you’d be the first to break Inked’s no fraternization policy, Brax.
I glare at him, silently warning that the rules won’t be the only thing I’ll be breaking if he doesn’t leave. With a shit-eating grin, he cockily winks and exits my office, closing the door behind him.
I wait until I hear the stomping of his feet on the tiled floor before I turn my eyes to Clara. She continues rifling through the invoices on my desk, seemingly unmoved from our heart-stopping kiss. I stand motionless in my office, unsure whether I should take the slap to my ego like a man or kiss the living hell out of her again just to ensure she’s aware a kiss like the one we just shared could never be forgotten.
But even if she wants to pretend her flushed expression is from the warmth of a late May afternoon, she sure as hell can’t come up with a reason for the marks on her neck the stubble on my chin created, let alone her kiss-swollen lips. Although I have no right to admit this, I fucking love seeing her body marked because of me. If I weren’t concerned about my business and my crew, I’d strip her naked and mark every inch of her from the top of her disheveled locks to the tips of her expensive designer shoes, stopping only to pay careful attention to the needier regions of her body.
Shaking my head to remove the thoughts that could have me breaking another rule I swore I’d never break—fucking Clara on my desk like a bunny—I lock my eyes with her and ask, “We good?”
Clara licks her kiss-swollen lips before nodding .
“All right. I’ll be finished up here by ten. We’ll discuss this more then.”
I canceled my last two appointments three days ago when I discovered today was Clara’s birthday. Clara was so quiet about her upcoming birthday that if I weren’t in the process of working out how to have her signed at Inked as a full-time employee, I would have never discovered today is her twenty-sixth birthday. I have an inkling she was hoping the day would pass with no celebration. Although I’m not a fan of getting older, I’m all for celebrating life milestones, birthdays included.
Clara’s brows stitch as she stares at me in shock. “ This ?”
“Yeah, this .” I gesture my hand between us.
Her brows become lost in her blonde hair. “There’s no this , Brax.” Her face looks stern, but her words are unsteady.
When she veers her confused gaze back to the documents in her hand, I curl my hand around her elbow. Unlike thirty seconds ago, she repels from my grasp instead of melting into it.
Here comes the pounding headache that’s been plaguing me for the past four months.
“I don’t know how many times I need to tell you, Brax. This …” she gestures her hand between us, “… is never going to happen.” For the first time since I’ve known her, she keeps her voice sincere. Almost regretful.
I connect my eyes with her. “Well, I’ve got news for you, Princess. This is fucking happening.”
Her eyes narrow and glare into mine. I swear I can hear her teeth grinding together. “Why? Because beasts just take what they want?” Her tone has reverted back to the bitchy sneer she hasn’t used in weeks.
I smirk while shaking my head. “No. It has nothing to do with that.”
“Then what is it?” She places her hand on her cocked hip .
“Because you’re loving this game of chase just as fucking much as I am.”
Clara’s pupils widen to the size of dinner plates as her cheeks go even pinker, but she remains as quiet as a graveyard at midnight, abundantly proving what I said is true.
I fucking knew it.
“So, as I said earlier, we’ll continue our discussion at ten.”
I stride toward my office door, needing to exit before I kiss the shocked look right off her face.