FOUR
Was that a chest hair on her nipple? Ginger plucked the long, black hair from her chest and held it in front of her face for inspection, making a disgruntled sound as she ran her finger under the hot spray of the shower and watched it wash down the drain.
That sick bastard had been an inferno, making her sweat all night. She’d had to fight just to get a foot out from under the blankets and his mountain of a leg just to get an ounce of cool air on her toes. That’s when she’d known for certain that not only was he a jackass, but a lying jackass at that.
There was no draft! If there had been one, she might not have nearly succumbed to heat stroke.
She hadn’t slept much because of it. Yet, she couldn’t say the experience was completely unpleasant. If at all. Hell, she was smiling thinking about it. When was the last time she’d been held through the night? Back during the honeymoon phase with Hawke, before they’d started using their fists instead of words.
But Repo—Garrick—was nothing like Hawke. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. He was overbearing and macho, headstrong and kind of a jerk when he put his mind to it. He was also pushy and foulmouthed and a real dick. But he was sweet and kind and generous too. Something her ex-husband never was. He’d give the shirt off his back to help another person out, but he was no pushover either. Garrick was a good man, plain and simple.
So why was she resisting him so hard? Why was she denying his claim on her? Any other woman would have leaped at the chance to belong to him, so why was she running the other way?
Simple: Ginger Masterson was owned by no man. After Hawke, she’d vowed to never again wear a patch. It meant too damn many things, came with too damn many rules and expectations. She couldn’t be her own person with a patch. She’d have to consider someone else’s needs, answer to someone else about where she was going and what she was doing. Her thoughts and actions would no longer belong to her and her alone. She’d have to share her life, give up control to someone else. In the club, the man ruled supreme.
So, no, maybe the Spartans weren’t like some of the other clubs out there. The men respected their women, some even putting them on a pedestal—like Blake did with Gabby. But men were men, and that meant that there were always bad seeds among the good. That’s how she’d gotten mixed up with Hawke. He’d spit good game, reeled her in with his macho attitude and sheer masculinity. She’d assumed they’d all be like Blake: kind and gentle and strong and loyal. Boy, had she been wrong.
Garrick had been around long enough that she knew he wasn’t like Hawke in that way. He’d never raise a hand to her, but he had been married when they’d first had sex, so she couldn’t completely trust him either. That was a deal breaker as far as she was concerned.
And anyway, she had no intention of ever being anyone’s property again. She didn’t care how good they were.
The fact was, Ginger enjoyed her life the way it was. She liked being able to handpick who she shared her time with, and she liked that it came with an expiration. She liked experiencing different men, different personalities. She liked the challenge they presented, the change in atmosphere, the excitement that surrounded it all. Maybe it was odd for a woman to be thinking these things when a man like Garrick—a real man’s man—was looking to settle down, but she’d never been much for following rules.
No, Ginger had a good thing going. She had the respect and adoration of all the men in the club, and all the other women looked up to her, came to her for guidance and support. The men did too, in fact. She was in a position to know much more than the average bunny or wife. Had she been born with different equipment, she’d have been right there at the round table with them when they held church. She’d have a bike out there next to the others.
But that was the luck of the draw. Ginger had tits and a pussy, and that made her second class. She resented it, but still, her life was pretty damn good regardless. The Spartans fed her, clothed her, gave her a roof over her head when she needed it, and watched over her. They were more her family than her own blood.
As she soaped up her breasts, Ginger recalled the way her body responded to Garrick’s when he’d rubbed his hard cock against her hip and felt an answering bolt of arousal between her legs. He was trouble with a capital T, especially now that he had his mind set on having her for his own.
What had gotten into him? He’d always seemed just fine with their arrangement. They hooked up from time to time, they were good friends. She’d had a crush on him when she was a kid, but she’d grown up a lot since then. Ginger didn’t do crushes anymore. Yeah, he was sexy, carrying that dark and dangerous vibe around like a weapon that sometimes made her weak in the knees if she let her guard slip, but that didn’t mean anything. She had an appreciation for the man, respected him, even cared for him, but she wasn’t in love with him.
He could give you all the things you want though, a little voice in her head whispered as her soapy palms ran circles around her abdomen.
Like what, a kid? And what the hell would she do with one of those? Ginger shut that thought process down hard. No need to think about little Garricks running around, or how they’d have his smile or that bullheaded, cocky attitude. Definitely no need to think about how he’d look with a baby in his arms or an adoring toddler on his shoulders. And she certainly didn’t need to wonder what it’d be like to feel his lips on hers every day of the rest of her life.
No need for any of that.
Because Ginger relied on only herself. She had no need for anyone else in her life.
Really.
Tired of being in her own head, she turned off the water and reached for a towel. Instead, the towel reached for her. The scream was unintentional and leaped out of her mouth before she could push it back.
“Sorry, didn’t know you were the skittish type.”
Garrick was standing there with a wide grin, not appearing to be the least bit sorry at all. Ginger yanked the towel from his hand and leveled him with a glare. “You’re an asshole.”
“So you’ve mentioned.”
And she’d mention it a lot more, too, until it finally sunk into that thick head of his. “I thought you left.” Just as she’d finally fallen asleep, he’d gotten up, announcing that he had to ride out to God knew where. Since she had a vagina, she wasn’t privy to that kind of information. Insert mental eye roll.
“I almost had. Then I remembered I forgot to kiss my woman goodbye.”
She scowled as she stepped out of the shower, the towel wrapped tight around her, and brushed by him. “Then shouldn’t you be somewhere else looking for her instead of wasting your time here?”
He turned to face her in the mirror, his large frame folding around her as he leaned down to frame her with his thick, muscular arms. His eyes on hers, he turned his lips to her ear, his warm breath a sweet caress that raised goose bumps on her arms. “I’m going to wear you down, Red. You think you can resist me, but you’re wrong.”
“It’ll be a cold day in hell before I accept your patch, Garrick. And I told you to call me Ginger.”
Turning his face into her neck, he breathed her in, his eyes drifting closed as if she were the sweetest thing he’d ever smelled. Ginger had to fight not to close her eyes, too, not to get lost in the warmth of his body pressed up tight against hers. “I’ve got time. For you, Ginger, I’ve got time,” he murmured. Then, he pressed a soft kiss to the side of her throat, over her thundering pulse.
Pausing in the doorway, his wide shoulders rose and fell with every breath he took. “Stay out of trouble while I’m gone, Red.” Turning his head, he met her eyes once more over his shoulder and stared her down for what felt like an eternity, making sure she got the message.
She did, loud and clear. Garrick Stone was not a man who gave up easily. But neither did she. If Ginger planned to stay single, then she was going to have to stick to her guns, and come hell or high water, that’s exactly what she intended to do. Garrick “Repo” Stone did not own her, and that was a lesson he was going to have to learn.