Jamie

 

I always considered myself a modern woman. Independent. Strong. I didn’t need a man in my life to make it complete, and I definitely didn’t need one giving me orders. But when he commanded my mouth to open, I couldn’t resist complying. Whether the logical, modern part of my brain appreciated it or not, the more primal and lustful part was dying to have him order me around just like he promised.

 

He was hot, and I was eating it up.

 

His hand was in my hair, gripping it tightly, the other held my hip so tightly, there might be bruises later. is tongue explored and tasted my mouth like it was the best and only thing he wanted.

 

His hips ground into mine, his erection hard and long against my core. If there hadn’t been several layers of clothes between our bodies, I would have encouraged him closer. I would have succumbed to intense lust that wasn’t about reason or about the ever present Is this a good idea? question that I was always supposed to be asking myself.

 

But we were clothed, and when Pax began to let his hand wander further, slipping up to reach the waistband of my jeans and then slipping down to tease just inside of it, I started to come back to Earth. Heat still pooled between my legs, and my heart still hammered away, pumping hot blood through my veins, but the touch of his skin to mine in a more intimate place had the reasonable side of me jerking on the reins and chomping at the bit.

 

This is a stupid idea, Jamie!

 

And it was. Oh, it definitely was. No matter how that simple touch sent shocks of want through my body or lit my skin on fire in the most delicious of ways, I knew this couldn’t go farther. Definitely not farther. In fact, I’d been stupid for much too long, and if I didn’t get my act together soon…

 

My hands found his broad chest, palms flat against it, and I shoved. I put all my strength into the motion, pushing like my life depended on it. Once again, it was likely surprise more than actual strength that got him to move back a step and a half. It was barely enough to break the kiss, and it wasn’t enough to pull his fingers out from the waistband of my pants or to disentangle from my hair.

 

Instead, it just managed to put a couple of meager inches between us, not even enough to prevent his heat from filling the space between us and teasing my—already aching—body. “Stop,” I told him firmly.

 

He didn’t pull away, but he didn’t come any closer. He didn’t try to kiss me again or to pull me back to his body. His breathing came out as labored as mine, and there was a part of me that reveled in that. He’s breathless, too, I thought. It was almost enough to make me grin. But that would send the wrong message—a message that went something along the lines of “Yes, please, ravage me again,” and I did not want to give him that impression.

 

Even if there was a part of me—the physical, hormonal part—that was whining that it had already been too long. And a taste wasn’t enough.

 

He’s an asshole, I reminded myself fiercely. And if it weren’t for the nearly dead motorcycle accident victim, Kato, I wouldn’t even be here. And he’s paying me to be here!

 

I tried to list as many reasons for why this was a bad idea with him specifically as I could, but my body kept purring and whining back at me like a bitch in heat. Whether it was a good idea or not, I wanted him. Bad.

 

But that doesn’t mean I have to give in.

 

So when Pax asked in a low, sultry voice, “Are you sure you want me to?”

 

I took a deep breath that smelled like cinnammon and dark things and was able to respond in an almost even tone. “Yes. I am. Because I… This isn’t why I’m here.”

 

Other than that brief moment where I faltered and almost tripped over my own words, I was doing deliciously well. His mouth pulled into a frown, his lips looking as swollen as mine felt. As bruised. His broad chest rose and fell, and I could tell that he was trying to regain his own control—or maybe I’m wrong and he likes the wild look that lingers in his eyes. “Then why are you here? For Kato?” he asked, that harshness to his voice back. “For some jackass you don’t even know?”

 

The small step of space I’d managed to put between us disappeared when he pulled me back to him with a sharp jerk. I crashed against him all over again, and my resolve began to weaken. Again. I don’t know why it does this whenever he’s around, but it needs to stop. It needs to stop before I give in to him and things go from bad to dangerous.

 

I’ve finally started to get my life together—I can’t go to dangerous.

 

“Yes,” I answer, but the firmness of my tone has wavered.

 

His eyes searched my face, his arms gripping my shoulders tightly. There’s no denying that he wanted me—but he also looked annoyed. Like how dare I not immediately turn into a puddle of goo at his feet? Which, I admitted silently only to myself, was sort of what my body was trying to do. But I was trying to resist, dammit.

 

Because this was going to be one hell of a mistake, and I needed to head it off at the pass. I just couldn’t start doing this shit. Not now.

 

“You’re a fucking liar, lady,” he told me, curling his lip up in disgust. Then he shoved me back and turned away slightly so that I could see his profile. His muscular, well-defined, sexy profile. Not that I was noticing. “You can stand there and pretend you don’t want me all fucking day and night if you want, but the truth is, you do. You’ve wanted me since you laid eyes on me, and you’re just being stubborn because you don’t want to admit the truth. Because you’re chickenshit.”

 

Heat flared in my cheeks and gritted my teeth. I was furious with him. Furious because I was not a chickenshit! But also because I sure as hell felt like I was being one. But what right did he have to call me out on it? We weren’t together, and if I had anything to say about it, we weren’t going to be, either. Screw this. I was my own woman, and I wasn’t about to let some biker dude tell me otherwise.

 

No matter how much the heat between my legs begged me to reconsider.

 

“Oh, I’m chickenshit? What about you? You stand there like some tough guy, but you looked pretty damn scared when you found Kato!” Which, okay, he hadn’t. If anything, he looked as cool and calm as a damn cucumber. But a sexy cucumber.

 

He looked over at me and raised a single eyebrow, skepticism written across the line of his mouth and the arch of that damn brow. Asshole. “Scared?” he scoffed. “I don’t think you know what that word means because it definitely doesn’t fucking fit me.”

 

Seeing his jaw twitch, I sensed a sore spot. A place of weakness. And I went for it because I was angry that he’d tried to call me out on something…and because my body kept trying to let him get into my damn panties.

 

Smiling sweetly, I put my hands on my hips, cocking one of them. “Oh? Well, I’m pretty sure it means that you were shitting your britches, honey.”

 

That got a rise out of him. He swiveled around to face me, fury blazing on his strong jaw and in the purse of his full lips. His cheeks even looked tinged with heat, something I attributed immediately to the anger I was deliberately trying to rile up in him. “Listen here you—”

 

Before he got the chance to call me some colorful names that would probably get me to slap him, a call came from the mudroom. I recognized the voice of, the probably still exhausted, Kato. “Boss?”

 

Why does everyone keep calling him boss? I wonder mildly as I fold my arms across my chest to try and stave off the indignation at whatever Pax was going to, but didn’t, say.

 

Pax kept his eyes on me, letting them linger on me in anger—and that ever present, jelly-leg inducing desire—before calling over his shoulder, “What do you want?”

 

My eyebrows rose a little at his tone—annoyed, almost disinterested, like he didn’t give a shit that his guy was injured in there and had been down for a week. Either he was just laying on the tough guy attitude really thick or he was a huge asshole, which I was completely willing to believe. It would make it easier to push myself as far from him as possible.

 

“I need to tell you some things.”

 

Kato’s tone was still weak, though he sounded stable. That was about all I could glean without seeing him, and that was very sketchy information at best. Really, I should have been in there with him—helping, taking care of him, and doing what Pax was paying me for in the first damn place. Wasn’t he just giving me hell about what was and wasn’t my job in the first damn place anyway?

 

Pax looked towards the doorway where Kato lay still. He seemed to debate something internally for a minute before running a hand through his hair and muttering under his breath. I imagined it was all curse words and inappropriate slang for what a stupid woman I was, but what did I know anyway?

 

Without so much as a glance or a word to me, Pax headed for the door. His body moved and rippled like a stalking panther, his muscles almost graceful in the fluid way they worked. Or maybe that was just my hormones telling me that muscles were sexy because they meant a man could do fun, kinky things with you in bed.

 

Stop it, I commanded myself, but my eyes still dipped low to his butt. A very nice, firm butt that looked great in those jeans.

 

That butt—I mean, Pax—paused just before entering the mudroom. I expected him to turn around and say something to me. Probably nothing pleasant and God forbid it ever reached apologetic, but I expected something. Probably an order to stay where I was until he got back so he could finish cussing me out and trying to get his hands beneath my clothing.

 

But instead, he shrugged his shoulders and walked through the doorway.

 

My jaw dropped.

 

“Hey!” I cried out. He turned around, and for a second, I thought he was going to come back and talk to me about all this. Or try to kiss me again. Either way at this point. “Are we going to talk about…whatever the hell this is?” I demanded, moving my finger rapidly between the two of us.

 

He raised a damn single eyebrow again, then he grabbed the edge of the actual door and slammed it shut so hard that the pictures hanging on the wall beside it actually rattled. I stared at him wide-eyed as fury built steadily in my chest.

 

What. A. Dick.

 

Feeling like I was about to explode with anger, I had about half a mind to storm in there and tear the ass end out of him for thinking he could just treat me like—like—I didn’t even know. Like he hadn’t just shoved his tongue down my throat and pawed at me like I was all he fucking wanted in the world.

 

Deciding I couldn’t just stand there in the living room while the two men talked about whatever they were talking about—probably something illegal, I thought unkindly—I turned away with a huff. I marched up the stairs towards the room that was temporarily mine. When I got inside, I slammed the door shut, attempting to recreate the same force from downstairs.

 

Alone now in my room—the guest room, I reminded myself—I started to get mad all over again. And not just at Pax. Sure, he got the brunt of it. What sort of asshole goes around kissing women and telling them he’s going to do all these dirty things to them and then just shrugs his shoulders before walking out? Not even a word? And more to the point, he’d been an asshole since the moment I met him—getting pissed off when I did things that weren’t “in my job description” as he put it and acting like I was an idiot and a bitch for insisting over and over again to take Kato to the damn hospital.

 

Everything out of his damn mouth has been rude. It was enough to make me positively furious.

 

But as mad as I was with him, I was twice as mad at myself. It was truth that I kept shoving Pax back when he made his advances, but even as I did so, I had to admit two things to myself. First, that before shoving him back, I’d let him kiss me good and hard for longer than I should have. And second, that I’d damn sure enjoyed it. A lot. And still wanted it. My head and my body at war with each other over what we should get out of this strange, never-ending fight with Pax.

 

“You cannot sleep with him,” I said to the empty room, putting as much heavy emphasis and firmness on “not” as I could, like that might convince me that this was a dumb idea.

 

Not that any of it was mine. I was just trying to be a Good Samaritan, and now I was caught up in all of this bullshit.

 

And what was really going on with Kato anyway?

 

I couldn’t deny that I wanted to know. I wanted to know why Kato was so seriously injured that night, yet no one wanted to send him to the hospital. I wanted to know what the hell it was that Pax was hiding because I knew that he was hiding something. But even amidst my curiosity, I admitted there was a much more rational part that was telling me something both firmly and simply.

 

Get. The. Hell. Out.

 

As in, now.

 

Deciding that that was the best course of action, I began to search through the room. I pulled out clothing from the two top drawers in the dresser, the only two I was using, and threw them on the bed in a heap. Then, I started to grab the toiletries until I realized that I needed a bag to put them in. Still pissed off with Pax and the fact that my body so easily wanted to cave to his whims, I decided to screw the bag. I was going to use a damn pillowcase.

 

Stomping angrily over to the bed, muttering about stupid sexy bikers, I snatched up the pillow and jerked the pillowcase off of it. I momentarily felt guilty because the pillowcase was really silky, and I did enjoy laying on it… Then I shoved that aside and decided to screw his pillowcases as well.

 

I went back into the bathroom and dumped everything into the pillowcase, not caring when dark spots, where things were damp, appeared in the pillowcase.

 

I tossed my impromptu bag on the bed next to the pile of clothing, then felt the ever familiar urge to organize. I began to fold, my movements angry and jerking, my brain still making my mouth mutter things under my breath.

 

It was halfway through folding the clothing when I’d finally reached my scrubs—they were washed but would forever be stained with Kato’s blood—that I stopped. I stared at the tank top I held in my hands for long moments. The blood was gruesome and dark, splattered haphazardly across the tank top. I quickly decided to throw it away, but as soon as I balled it up, I realized something.

 

None of this was mine. Not a single thing on this bed except for the scrubs I was about to throw away. The pile of clothing, the pillowcase, the toiletries in the pillowcase—all of them had been provided by Pax. He’d claimed they were “occupational necessities” for my new, temporary job as live-in care provider. But seriously, who buys skin tight clothing and lacy underwear and bras for someone as an occupational necessity?

 

Other than strippers, I thought with a snort. Then I sobered as I realized that Pax more or less offered me to be a stripper for him. Or more like a prostitute.

 

Hadn’t he suggested business with pleasure?

 

Anger flared through me all over again. “Well, if he thinks I’m going to be his little whore, he’s got another thing coming!”

 

Leaving all of the clothing and toiletries on the bed, I half-seriously considered changing into my old, ruined scrubs just because they were the only thing here that was mine. But I just couldn’t make myself do it. It was too damn disgusting. I might have been used to blood, but that didn’t mean I appreciated wearing it. And I definitely didn’t want to be reminded of that night every time I caught sight of myself.

 

I looked disheveled and definitely pissed off. My hair was wild about my face and shoulders, making me look like I’d just been doing some delightfully naughty things, even though all I’d been doing was kissing.

 

Was that all it was? Best fucking kiss ever.

 

The jeans I wore encased my legs like a second skin, and I’d insisted that they were too small. The tag displayed my size, but they looked like something out of Grease, and they had to cut Sandy out of those. The shirt wasn’t much better, either. It hugged my curves and emphasized my breasts, the material thin enough that I could see the outline of the lacy bra they’d given me. Right now, I felt like my whole body was on fire, straining and burning against the fabric that felt too tight and too itchy. I wanted it off but not because it was uncomfortable. No, I wanted it off because I wanted to be naked, and I wanted Pax to be naked, too.

 

Too bad he’s such an asshole, I thought.

 

And that was enough to bring me back on track. I wouldn’t give Pax the satisfaction of seeing how he was undoing me. No. I had been wanting to talk to him about whatever was trying to happen between us, maybe without all the snark and dickheadedness, but he’d thrown that out the window when he slammed the door in my face.

 

I didn’t need to talk to anyone who apparently didn’t think I was worth their time.

 

In the end, the only thing I took out of that room was my set of keys. Clenching them tightly in my fist, I headed down the stairs. I didn’t have to put up with this shit. He could send me the damn check for my work here, and that would be the end of that. We’d never have to interact again.

 

What an ass.