Chapter Twelve
Damn, it felt fucking amazing to be on the back of a bike again. The wind rushing by, the power of the rumbling machine, the freedom to fly. He’d missed it like he’d miss his right arm. Like a part of his soul had been absent. Being reunited with a bike was better than any medicine, any therapy, better than just about anything. Except maybe a good fuck, but that didn’t seem to be in his near future.
There could be a woman in his future, but for reasons he wasn’t willing to explore, he didn’t go looking for an easy lay. Though he had the sneaking suspicion it all had to do with one gorgeous woman named Amanda. And nothing was going to happen there, so riding would have to do.
Nick rolled to a stop and walked the motorcycle into the garage. The last ten minutes had been murder on his leg, but worth every second of discomfort. Flying down the road on a Harley was where he belonged. It was in his blood. And with a little TLC the old hog ran as good as new. Dumb luck that Amanda had it.
He stepped from the garage into the beginnings of the twilight hours. Amanda’s car sat outside her home, but the house was just as dark as it had been all day. Maybe she’d been tired after work and crashed as soon as she got in. He tried to convince himself it wasn’t disappointment he felt at not seeing her that evening. Completing various projects in the cabins had become their nightly routine and he hated to admit how much he’d come to look forward to it.
She’d wander on down with a glass of wine and he’d grab a beer and join her. While they worked, she’d prattle on about her day and he’d offer the occasional I’m listening grunt. Sometimes he’d even add his two cents or tell a story of his own. They’d work for a few hours until she’d groan about how she had to get up early and head back up to the main house.
He never told her, but he always waited on his porch until she made it back to her house safely. The weeks away from club life were transforming him into someone he could barely recognize. There had only ever been one woman he’d acted this way around and that was his sister. While he tried to convince himself he viewed Amanda in the same light he viewed Cece, and that was why he was acting out of character, the fact that he wanted to fuck her more each time he saw her tossed that theory out the window.
He massaged the muscles of his sore thigh as he started back toward his cabin. Lights shone from the window of the empty cabin revealing the outline of her form in the den. Looked like he’d get to see Amanda after all. He told himself there was nothing to the giddy excitement that zinged through his blood. Picking up his pace, he lumbered to the empty cabin instead of his own.
She was muttering something when he stepped through the open door and followed the lights to her location. Dressed in a skin-tight black tank top and her work pants, she stood in the dining room, drawing something on the wall.
She was oblivious to his presence and he used that to his advantage, leaning against the door frame and admiring her. Skinny wasn’t a good word to describe her, although she was trim. Athletic fit her body type better. Made sense. She spent her days lifting people and running all over the hospital. Her arms, shoulders, and upper back were toned, not bulky, but sculpted in a way that showcased her feminine strength. She wasn’t fragile, and he appreciated that about her.
How would that strength translate to the bedroom? Would she give as good as she got and be able to handle his rougher nature with ease? Fuck, he’d sure like to find out.
“Stupid, arrogant, jerk of a man. Grrr. He’s just so…stupid!”
Snake chuckled under his breath. Not once had he heard Amanda cuss. Not even the time she whacked her thumb with a hammer. She’d yelled something about the “dang stupid hammer,” but that was it. He’d love to loosen her up, get her saying things she never said. Maybe right before she came, if he was buried deep inside her driving her crazy. Maybe then she’d let a few profanities fly.
She stepped back from the wall and admired her work. Snake tilted his head to get a better peek. On the wall, she’d drawn a life-sized stick figure with the words Dr. Michaels over its head. Dr. Michaels? Wasn’t he one of Snake’s physicians at the hospital? The one whom Amanda seemed uncomfortable around? Just as he was about to make his presence known and demand an explanation, she picked up the sledgehammer.
“Sorry, Doc, but you brought this on yourself.” With a small grunt of effort, she hefted the heavy hammer over her shoulder and prepared to swing it into the wall.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa! Easy there, slugger.” Snake darted forward and snatched the substantial hammer from her hands.
The screech that flew from her mouth could have woken the dead, and she released the handle, backing up until she hit the wall. Wide eyed, she gaped at him, holding a hand over her heart. “Holy cow. You scared the daylights out of me. How long have you been there?”
“Long enough to know that Dr. Michaels did something to royally piss you off. Almost feel sorry for the man.”
She pursed her lips and blew out a slow breath. The action calmed the heaving of her chest. “Yeah, well, don’t. He’s a huge jerk. The least he deserves is to have his drywall face smashed in. Why did you stop me?”
Snake rested the hammer against the wall once again. “You can’t just go smashing the house down like a madwoman. There are support structures, electrical wiring, and pipes in those walls. We need to be smart about the demolition.”
Her shoulders slumped and her lower lip popped out in a pout. It was cute as hell and he wanted to kiss the frustration off her face.
“Here,” he said as he rifled in a tool bag they’d left on the ground. “This is a stud finder. If your artwork is between two studs then you can knock him into next week. Deal?”
The radiant smile returned. “Deal.”
He marked the studs on the wall and it turned out she got lucky. Stick man was right smack in the middle of two beams. And he knew from consulting a plumber while she was at work a few days ago that there weren’t any pipes right there either. She was free to smash the shit out of Dr. Michaels.
“Hey, what’s that between his legs?”
She moved next to him and snorted out a laugh. “That’s his teeny tiny penis.”
Snake choked on his saliva. “Say what?” His gut twisted. How did she know he had a small cock? Were they lovers? Had the doc tossed her over for some bitch? Was this the act of a woman scorned? The idea of the doctor’s hands on her, of him seeing her skin, of him watching her come had Snake ready to kill.
“His teeny tiny penis,” she said, louder this time.
“Yeah, I got that. How the hell do you know he has a small cock?”
She shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. But you figure a man with a huge one wouldn’t have to force himself on a woman. They’d flock to him naturally, right?”
Snake’s blood ran cold. “He tried to force himself on you?”
Her eyes widened. Yeah, his voice had dropped to a tone that he’d used to scare the shit out of people in the past. This time it was unintentional. This time it was born of pure rage, not strategy. But the tone worked as it had in the past. Amanda started spilling her guts.
“No. We dated for a few months. It was good at first, then he turned into a possessive and jealous jerk. Today he cornered me in a stairwell and demanded I go out with him again. When I turned him down, he threatened my job and got a little rough with me. That’s all. He didn’t actually try to force himself on me.”
She rubbed her upper arms as she spoke, her hands sliding over little purple marks on her delicate skin.
Snake took a deep breath and concentrated on her drawing on the wall. Controlling his anger wasn’t something he excelled at. Because it wasn’t something he ever tried to do. If he was pissed, he took action whether with his fists, his gun, or with some more careful planning. But he didn’t suppress his anger in fear of scaring someone else. Ever. And Amanda would be scared if he let the full strength of his fury be known. Murderous bikers steered clear of him when he was in a rage filled frenzy.
“Did you report him?” Somehow, he sounded human, in control.
“No. Not yet. And I don’t know if I’m going to. No witnesses. Not sure anyone would believe me.” She shrugged. “I haven’t decided what to do yet.”
“You just came here and drew a picture of him on the wall so you could demolish him, huh?” A smile crept across his face. She was something else.
“And I gave him a small penis.”
“Right.” He picked the sledge hammer back up. “Well you’re safe to kill him as long as you stay between those marks I made.”
She grinned and bounced on the balls of her feet, a mischievous gleam in her eyes. Her breasts moved with her, drawing his attention and turning him the fuck on. “Gimme,” she said, holding her hands out for the hammer.
He held it just out of her reach. “One more thing. Tell me what you drew between his legs.”
She frowned. “A small penis. I said that.”
“Nuh uh.” He shook his head and pointed to the sketch. “This man touched you against your will. He bruised you. He threatened you. He scared you. What did you draw?”
A light shade of pink traveled from her neck to her cheeks. She met his gaze and bit her bottom lip.
God, she had no idea how fuckable that mouth was.
“I drew his small dick.” She whispered the last word.
“What kind of small dick? And louder.” He handed her the hammer and bent back to the tool bag.
“Small, limp dick?”
He chuckled as he stood. The words sounded so unnatural rolling off her tongue. “You asking me or telling me? And louder.”
With a deep breath, she looked him right in the eye. “His tiny, shriveled, limp dick!” she yelled.
“Atta girl. Go get him.” He took a step back and tossed her a pair of safety goggles. “Don’t need to lose an eye on top of everything else.”
“Thanks,” she said. And then it was as though he disappeared. She turned toward the wall as he slipped his own pair of goggles on. The hammer weighed quite a bit and could be difficult to swing, but she tossed it over her shoulder like it was made of feathers. “Here you go, you limp dicked bastard.” With a roar, she brought the hammer crashing through the wall.
When Snake recovered from the shock of hearing those words leave her pretty mouth he burst out laughing.
For a few minutes, she went wild on the wall, letting the hammer smash her stick drawing again and again. Dust clouded the room and chunks of drywall shot off in all directions, biting into his skin every few seconds. He ignored the small stings in favor of letting her expel her demons.
After a few moments, she tried to lift the hammer for another swing, but her arms had given out and the steel head of the hammer clunked to the ground. She bent at the waist and rested her head against the handle, her breaths coming in loud gulps.
Still breathing heavily, she rose to her full height and smiled. Strands of caramel-colored hair had escaped the messy pile on the top of her head and stuck out in all directions. Bits of drywall clung to her hair and a layer of dust covered her skin. “Man, that felt good.”
Snake couldn’t join in her celebration just yet. His gaze was fixated on the bruising on her arms. It bothered him deep in his gut. But why? He’d never treated women well. He’d roughed up a few in his day, not for sexual reasons—maybe that’s why this bothered him—but for information, revenge, payback. Hell, that’s how he’d gotten himself injured in the first place. He’d used a rival club member’s woman for his own personal gain and when it blew up in his face, he kidnapped her and was less than gentle in his treatment of her.
Never before had bruises on a woman, on anyone really, bothered him so much. He closed the distance between them and cupped her upper arm.
“Wh-what are you doing?” Her breathing hadn’t returned to normal yet.
What was he doing? He didn’t have a fuckin’ clue. With one thumb, he stroked the purple skin. He’d done this to Emily, put marks on her skin. Sure it wasn’t for the same reasons, but the results were the same. Amanda wasn’t his woman; hell she wasn’t even close to his woman. The hatred and rage Jester must have felt toward him began to make sense. The brutal beating he sustained at Jester’s hand became understandable. Fuck, he was ready to do the same to Dr. Michaels and he had no claim on Amanda whatsoever. Had he been in Jester’s shoes, he wouldn’t have stopped until he was dead.
“Nick,” she whispered and her breath hitched again, but this time it seemed to have nothing to do with exertion. Desire burned in her eyes. Desire for him? It was almost unfathomable, but then she had no idea who he really was. No idea the things he’d done.
In the next instant, Amanda fisted his T-shirt in her hands and yanked him to her. She rose up on her toes, but still had to pull him down toward her to fit her mouth against his. And she did. Her soft lips pressed against his and her sweet, winey flavor shocked his senses.
He had no idea what to do. Him, who’d fucked more women than he could remember. Him who was rough, dominant, and demanding. When was the last time he’d kissed a woman? Years? A decade? Maybe more. Kissing wasn’t part of his sex life. It was intimate and loving and connected people. Sex of any kind, for him was about one thing. Getting off.
“Please kiss me back,” she whispered against his lips, uncertainty tinging her voice.
Christ, he was standing like a stone statue while a gorgeous, sexy woman was all over him. He gave himself a quick mental kick in the ass and got with the program. One hand slid around the back of her neck, gripping her at the base of her skull. He anchored his other hand low on her spine and pulled her flush against him until every soft curve of her body sank into him. Then he walked her back until she bumped the wall.
He claimed her mouth in a kiss somewhere between gentle and harsh. Her intoxicating flavor hit him again and he was lost. She opened to him immediately and he slid his tongue into her mouth teasing, tasting, testing. There was nothing tentative about the way she kissed. It was as though she poured her heart and soul into the act.
Her lips were soft and warm. She moaned into his mouth and he wanted to devour her. The kiss grew deep, hot, drugging and he never wanted it to end. In his pants, his cock was harder than it had been in years, but for once he had no problem making it wait for satisfaction. He simply couldn’t tear himself away from her mouth.
The kiss was sexually charged, for sure, but about so much more than just a prelude to an orgasm. She wasn’t just any woman. It wasn’t just body parts meeting to scratch an itch. She was Amanda, and she was everything he wasn’t. She was honest and giving. Soft but strong. She was just plain goodness.
It was as though he discovered light after being in darkness for more years than he could count and he never wanted it to end. He’d gladly die here, slaking his lust with nothing but the meeting of hungry mouths.
Amanda was healing something in him he’d never noticed or cared was broken.
And it was his undoing.