One by one, we step out of the Hummer outside the strip club. I hear his bike turn off, and I grin.

“All of our men are going to die—they’re going to throw a fit—but that’s the fun part. It just means we get fucked into next week,” Jean shrills and I shake with laughter. This girl is nuts.

All together, we walk toward the club, but I feel him coming closer and closer. I hear heavy footsteps and we all stop. Butcher thunders up to us and stands directly in front of me. He looks at the strip club sign and back at me.

“Fuck no. Mine.” I am thrown over his shoulder.

Finally! This is the first time I have ever touched him, and I have wanted to so many times. Just touching him has the butterflies going crazy in my stomach. I press my hands to his back and lift myself up. I look at the girls, wink, and wave bye. My plan worked like a charm.

We move farther and farther away from the girls and into the darkness of the parking lot. Holy shit, he called me his! HOLY SHIT! He literally just claimed me.

Oh. My. God.

He bends down and I am set on my feet. I fix my hair and look up at him. I suck my bottom lip into my mouth. Now I am nervous. He bends close to me, and I suck in a deep breath. I feel something touch my back and I look around. He is holding a leather jacket.

Or maybe he was just grabbing the jacket.

Butcher is still staring at me intently when I look back at him. He lifts the jacket and opens it with both hands. I turn around and put my arms in the arm holes, and he slides the jacket on. His fingers touch the nape of my neck as he gently pulls my hair out of the jacket, and I shiver.

“Let’s go,” he says and I jolt at the sound of his voice again. It’s so deep and manly, I want to hear it again and again. His hands touch my waist, and my hands go on top of his. He is so warm. My feet leave the ground, and he sets me on top of the motorcycle.

I lick my lips and watch as he climbs on in front of me. My heart starts pounding because I am going to be touching him and holding onto him. I shift in my seat as I scoot down toward him, but I don’t put my hands around his waist.

I stare at his muscular arms as they flex with his every movement. The bike starts up, and I run my hands up and down my legs nervously.

I am so nervous because I find this man very attractive and I am a virgin. That combo is dangerous. I have dated and that’s it. It never makes it past a couple of dates, and this has been going on for years. I have very high standards because, well, look at the father and uncles I have.

I know what I want in a man, and if I see this person doesn’t have it, I don’t continue dating him for the heck of it. If there isn’t any spark, then that’s it—plus I can’t date a pussy. I just can’t deal with a man who won’t stand up for his woman or protect her.

I was on a date a year or so ago, and I was standing at the bar with him. He was ordering us a drink. Some guy came up to me and started hitting on me right in front of him.

What did my date do? He looked at the guy and turned around to get his drink. Then the guy who was hitting on me wouldn’t take his eyes off of my tits, and my date noticed.

I told the guy hitting on me to hit the road, and I told my date that I was going to the bathroom when, in reality, I just left and had my brother pick me up.

Butcher reaches back and grabs my hand, and he pulls me forward so my front is pressed against his back. I lift my other hand and wrap my arms around him.

“Hold on.”

You can guarantee that I will do that. I don’t voice that to him though. Butcher looks from left to right and backs up with his feet. I look around the dark parking lot, and there are no people around, just a bunch of vehicles. It’s a strip club with male strippers, so you can’t expect a lot of men—or even women, for that matter—to be hanging around outside.

He takes off in the Texas summer. My hair moves against my skin, and I close my eyes, smiling. I love the feeling of being on the back of a bike.

I want to lay my head on his back and just snuggle up to him so flipping bad right now, but I don’t have the balls to do it.

My house is just ten minutes away or so because I live close to the center of town so I can be close to my bakery.

He pulls up outside my house and drives up the driveway. That’s when a million and one thoughts go through my mind at once. Is he going to come inside, or is he going to keep on sleeping outside? Maybe I should invite him in the house?

What do I do?

Once he shuts the bike off, I climb down and take off my leather jacket and helmet. I set them on the back of the bike. Butcher is studying me. My stomach flips, and I put my hands behind my back, flicking my fingers to hide my nervousness.

He climbs off his bike and I lick my lips. I start to walk to the porch, and I look back and see he is following me. Oh my goodness. My body feels like it’s going to explode with nervousness. Can someone die from it?

He is so intense, and I want to ask so many questions and shake him, asking what he wants from me, but he just follows my every move. I know there is a meaning behind it—I just wish I knew what it is.

I know one thing: that I have never felt so safe in my entire life. He watches my every move, and it’s like he is trying to make sure nothing happens to me. Like I said, it’s intense.

I open the door, but just a crack, and I turn around expecting Butcher to be standing right behind me. No, he is sitting on the stupid lawn chair.

I turn around and walk straight into the house, bummed. “Ugh!” I mutter to myself and walk into my bedroom. I got all dressed up for nothing! He did go caveman on me and throw me over his shoulder, but he isn’t doing anything else! I fully expected him to come inside the house.

I change my clothes, slipping on a pair of soft spandex sleep shorts and a soft baggy white shirt before throwing my hair into a bun. My mind is going through a hundred different things. “Grr.” I walk into my bathroom to wash off my makeup and brush my teeth.

Once I am makeup free and my teeth are brushed, I come to a decision to tell him to at least come inside to sleep on my couch. I know it’s not comfortable to sleep on my lawn chair every night.

I let out a deep breath and rest my forehead on the front door while pressing my hand to my racing heart. I twist the doorknob and the door opens with a creak. Butcher’s head snaps up, his eyes immediately meeting mine. “Come inside? Sleep on the couch where it’s comfortable at least?”

He stands up and walks toward me. I suck in a deep breath and step back into the house. He walks closer and closer to me, the light blanketing him in a soft glow.

This man is just beautiful, with all of his tattoos and his scars, his dark eyes, and his large body. He is beautiful, and now that I am looking him directly in the eyes, close up, I totally realize something.

He has pain and demons—I can see that they haunt him.

I smile at him widely. “The living room is this way.” I motion for him to follow me and lead him through my dining room into my living room.

“There are blankets on the back of the couch, food in the fridge. Help yourself.” I smile and point toward my room. “I am going to bed.”

He doesn’t say anything, just stares at me in that way he does. So I just turn around and walk into my room. I pull the door closed, but I don’t shut it all the way, and I slide into my bed.

I fix the blankets all around me and turn on the TV. All I really want is to cuddle and, most of all, I am lonely. I want that companionship and the special someone that everyone else has.

My whole life I have been judged for not just dating someone to date someone, but I can’t do that. I can’t be with someone if I am not feeling it, especially if I don’t even want to be around that person.

Closing my eyes, I sink into the pillows and blankets.

---

Butcher

---

I wait until I know she is asleep and walk to her bedroom door. The door is cracked slightly, and I push it open. She is curled up into a little ball, surrounded by blankets and pillows.

I step into her room and walk over to the edge of the bed. I stare down at her. She is beautiful. Her long blonde hair, her beautiful smile that lights up any room. She is hypnotizing.

Tonight, when I saw her heading for the strip club, I acted. I knew she was mine the moment I saw her in the steak house, but I haven’t acted on it until now. Right now I want to be in this bed with her, her curled around me instead of the pillow.

She is so fucking innocent and sweet. I feel like if I touch her, I will taint her. I am not a good fucking man. I have done some horrible shit overseas that fucked with me and still fucks with me every night when I close my eyes.

I know how dangerous and sick people are in this world. I cannot bear the thought of some fucker touching her, or even looking at her. I want to rip them limb from limb and kill them over and over. She is mine and I will protect her from everything.

I saw her change before my eyes at the club the other night. She went from the sweetest little shit to a hellion in a second. She beat Lexi up and did it fucking smiling like it was just an everyday thing she does. She’s got fucking crazy in her.

I like that, but she is also so fucking sweet that it hurts me. I physically ache at the sight of her, wanting to touch her. I watch her. I watch everything she does. I watch her every move, learning everything about her.

Now it’s time to show her what it’s like being mine.

“Good night, Shay,” I whisper and take a step back, not daring to take my eyes off her.

“Goodnight, Butcher,” her soft, sweet voice whispers back.

I turn around and force myself out of the room.