Bad Boys of Romance - a Biker Anthology (3 page)

Somewhere, in a deep recess in my brain, a voice of reason is screaming,
what the fuck are you doing?
  But, it doesn’t take much effort for me to close the voice off.

I can’t get enough.

His mouth.  God. 
God!
His mouth.  So skilled and sweet.  Firm, yet gentle.  Commanding, yet sensual in his assault.  So,
so
good.  Addictive.

But, so wrong.

Fuck.

“Fuck.”  The whispered word leaves my lips. 
What have I done?
  What sort of woman am I, that I would kiss another woman’s husband?

Oh God.

I’m a home-wrecker.

I feel sick.

“Hey.  Hey!”  Switch’s harsh voice filters through my mental bashing of myself.  “Quit it,” he orders.

“What?” I blink, suddenly coming back to the present.

“Get out of your fuckin’ head.”  He tugs my hand and leads me over to the couch.  He sits and then gives my hand a pull.  I fall down next to him, and I immediately respect that he cares enough to give me some space.  I think we both know he could have pulled me into his lap and I would have stayed without much of a fight.

“You said you’d let me explain.  So, let me do it without you going into your head.”

“Sorry,” I reply meekly.

“Babe,” he sighs, a grin twisting his lips as he shakes his head a couple of times.  “Don’t apologize.  Ever.”

I swallow down my fears and gather my courage before looking him square in the eyes.  “Tell me.”

“My wife,” he sneers and I blink at the clear contempt in his tone. 
“Is an alcoholic.  I married her about three years ago.”  I continue to sit and listen quietly as he explains he married someone he didn’t love because she was pregnant and he wanted to do right by his child.  I patiently wait as he tells me about living in a hell he thought he deserved because his wife lost their child only
days
after they married, how he thought he was doing right by the woman by sticking by her and trying to support her as best he could, even though she spends almost every hour of every single day drunk. 

“I’ve never even entertained the thought of leaving her and being with someone else. 
Until I met you.  And now, you’re all I can think about.  You’ve managed to invade every single thought I have and I can’t escape you.  I don’t
want
to escape you.”

“I’m sorry you’ve been going through this, Switch.  It sounds like hell,” I rub his muscled thigh in comfort.  “You’ve taken over my mind as well,” I admit quietly.

“Good.”  His smile is genuine and I can’t help but reciprocate.

“I don’t want to the other woman.  I
can’t
be
that
woman.”

“I wouldn’t ask you to be.  I am
askin’ that you wait for me.  I know it’s a lot to ask, but please, give me some time to make this right.  Give me some time to get Amber help.”

“I’ll wait.  But, Switch?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m not going to wait forever.  I’m not going to sit around waiting for you to leave your wife if it isn’t something that you genuinely want to do.  I won’t buy into excuses.  If you want to leave her, do what you have to do, and then leave.  But, don’t sit here telling me you’ll do it, only to return week after week with some bullshit excuse as to why you haven’t done it yet.”

His laughter surprises me.  “Something funny?” I clip.

“I love your spunk.  And baby, trust me, I won’t bullshit you.  Ever.”

He captures my lips again before I have a chance to respond and he only pulls away when we’re both breathless and he’s lying on top of me, pinning me on the couch.

“I
gotta go,” he says regretfully.

I see him out and then flop onto my bed, my mind spinning, and even though a part of me is frowning upon whatever just happened, and is going to happen, with Switch, my heart feels full.  I can’t remember the last time I felt this happy.

I like it.

The next couple of weeks at my new job fly by.  I meet with the caterer’s and finalize the menu for the ball, I delegate jobs to the committee and I have a final meeting with the decorating crew who are coming in to turn our formal conference room into a fantasy inspired ball room.  They are being led by a famed interior decorator from Salt Rock, named Melissa.  I’ve only met her twice, and both times she overwhelmed me with her enthusiasm, out-there personality and even
more
out-there sense of fashion.  Still, I like her.  Her personality is addictive and you can’t help but feel up beat and excited when you’re around her and she’s throwing all these wild, seemingly impossible ideas into the ring.

However, despite how busy I’ve managed to keep myself, I still can’t help it when my mind wanders to Switch.  I’m not sure what it is about him, but he’s totally captivated me.  I feel sick in the stomach with the amount of guilt that’s swirling around inside of me because I know I shouldn’t be feeling this way, but, then I convince myself that I shouldn’t be feeling guilty, should I?  I haven’t done anything wrong.  I’ve haven’t acted on my thoughts – not fully.  I’ve just let my lust for him cloud my brain.  Fantasies are fantasies because they’re not real; otherwise they’d be called reality.  And there’s no harm in fantasizing about someone . . . right?  Yes, we’ve kissed a couple of times, but we haven’t taken it further, and we haven’t
really
kissed since that first night, so I shouldn’t feel so bad.  It could be worse.  We could have slept together.

Taking a deep breath, I pick up the handset on my office phone and dial,
Leslee.  She’s the head of the organizing committee that I quickly put together using volunteers from the community.

“Hi,
Leslee, it’s Jenna Mason speaking.  How are you?”

“Hi, Jenna.  I’m good, thanks. I was just looking online for a few things for the ball, actually.”

“It’s coming along spectacularly, isn’t it?” I smile.

“It sure is.  What can I help you with?”

“We’re going to need some man power to help carry in the tables and chairs we’ve rented.  Would you know where we can find some beefy guys who might be interested in helping out for an hour or two on Friday night?”

“Sure do,” she answers immediately, surprising me.

“Oh! That’s great.  Who are they?  Do you have a phone number for them?”

She rattles off a phone number and I quickly jot it down.  “It’s the Mayhem boys.  Roam told me last week that they’re happy to help with anything.  I’m sure this won’t be a problem.  Just give him a call.”

“Okay.  Thanks, Leslee.  I’ll speak to you soon.”

We hang up and I stare down at the piece of paper on my desk. 

Well, at least it’s not Switch’s number.

Before I can talk myself out of it, I pick up the phone and dial.

“Yo,” a deep male voice answers.

“Good afternoon, it’s Jenna Mason speaking from Joe’s Bar.”

“Hey, Jenna,” he greets, sounding like he has a smile on his face.

“I hope you don’t mind me calling out of the blue like this,” I start, but he quickly cuts me off.

“Don’t mind. What can I do for you?”

“
Leslee Johannson passed your number on to me and she said you and your boys may be able to help us with some heavy lifting as we set up for the ball.”

“No problem.  When?”

“Uh, well, tomorrow afternoon.  I’m so sorry for the late notice,” I wince.

“We can be there.  About three pm?”

“That would be fantastic.  Thank you, so much.  I really do appreciate it.”

We end the call and I let out a breath I didn’t even know I was holding.  Thankfully the boys can help
out, otherwise I wasn’t sure what we’d do.  The tables are really heavy and I think we’d need five or six girls to carry each one.  It would have taken forever.   At least with the men helping, two of them would only be needed to carry each table.

“Knock, knock.”  Someone taps on my closed office door, accompanying their knock with the words.

“Come in,” I call politely.

The door opens and my heart stutters.  I quickly school my features and silently plead with heart to regain
it’s regular beat, instead of the thumping rhythm that is currently slamming into my ribs.

“Good afternoon, Switch.”  My voice is even, thankfully.

His lip twitches and his gaze roams slowly over my body, causing my blood to heat even though he’s across the room from me. 

“Jenna,” he rasps.  “Are you busy?”

I shake my head, despite knowing I should probably have said I was tremendously busy.

“Mind if I come in?”

“No, please, do.  Take a seat.”

“You called Roam?” He asks, still standing just inside the door.

“Ah, yes, I did.”

“From now on, you need anything, you call me,” he states, cocking his eyebrow challengingly.

“Pardon?”

“Anything at all.  You call me. Understand?”  He walks forwards, shoves his hand in his pocket, pulls out a piece of paper and slaps it on my desk.  My insides clench at the domineering tone in his voice, but as he drags his hand slowly from the table, my eyes catch sight of the thin gold band and my veins turns to ice.  I
know
he’s married, and I
know
he’s working on leaving his wife, but that fucking wedding band just pisses me right the fuck off.

Why does he even wear it?  Am I fool?  Has he been playing me?  Is this some game to him?

No!  No.  I
know
Switch and I can see the torment in his eyes.  I
know
how hard this is on him.  I just need to be patient.  I promised I would wait, and it’s only been a few weeks.  I need to give him time.

I clear my throat.  Not wanting to be rude, because his club is a major sponsor in the fundraiser and I
am
at work, but really?  Really?!

“Switch,” I start, my tone warning.  “I don’t think it would be a good idea for me to be calling you, given our
situation
.”  I whisper the last part like it’s some big conspiracy.  Totally ridiculous, I know, but it’s not a situation I want to be known.  It’s not even something I want people
thinking
they know about.

He gives me a look, deep and thoughtful, his eyes narrowing slightly and then he nods and turns, leaving without another word.

My breath leaves my body in a rush and my whole body seems to slump when I know he’s gone.

God, I’m fucking ridiculous.

How can one man have such an effect on my entire
soul
?  How is it possible for him to seemingly control my body temperature with one look?  This is crazy!  This entire situation is fucking
crazy.
  Perhaps, my mind is over compensating for the fact that I haven’t had much male attention lately…or ever.

Yep.  That’s right; I’m your typical twenty-five year old virgin.  I snort to myself. 
Nothing typical about my situation
.

It’s not that I’m saving myself for marriage or anything remotely self-righteous like that.  It just hasn’t been something that has interested me…up until Switch entered my life and all I can think about is his hands all over my body.

And that mouth.

God! 
That mouth.

Growing up I was focused on my schoolwork.  Then, when we were eighteen, my best friend
Lacey’s parents were involved in a murder-suicide and so I spent my time worrying about her, as a best friend should. 

These days, I spend my weekends visiting my Gran and my weekdays busting my ass to do my best at my job.  I’m somewhat of a perfectionist, though I don’t believe I let it dominate my life.  I just like to excel at the things I put my mind to, and when I do something, I give it one hundred percent.  A lot of the time, that means that some things get pushed wayside, and usually that thing is my social life. 

Since Lacey left, I haven’t really made an effort to get out and make new friends, and growing up, Lacey was the only friend my parents really approved of.  I’m not sure why, really, because she came from an abusive home.  Granted, my parents didn’t know that – no one did – but for some unknown reason, they took a liking to Lacey and never denied a request for us to hang out together.

Walking through the door to my little home, I toss my handbag on the counter and grab a mug from the overhead cupboard.  The soothing smell of jasmine and vanilla fills my senses and I take a deep, calming breath.  This is my home.  I love it here.  My house is more of a cottage; small and quaint.  But, it does me just fine. 

I pour a coffee and bring the steaming cup to my lips, sighing in contentment.  I have a stack of work to go over before the fundraiser Saturday night, but my body is wound so tight, I feel like I just need to chill for a bit.

I finish my coffee, run myself a bath and try in vain to not let my thoughts run to a married man who I have no business thinking about.

***

I hear the engine of his bike pulling into my drive first.  It cuts out and a minute later there’s a knock on my door.

I open it and there he stands.  A takeout bag in one hand, a six-pack of beer in the other.

I silently gesture for him to come in and he walks past me, setting the food out on the counter and popping a beer before handing it to me.

“Hope you like Chinese,” he says.

“I do,” I confirm.

He hands me a plate of food before dishing one out for himself.

“Couldn’t stay away,” he mutters.

I’m glad.
I want to say the words out loud, but I don’t.  I don’t think I need to; he can see it in my eyes.

“How’re things going?”  I finally muster up the courage to ask.

He finishes his mouthful before answering.  “Difficult.  Amber’s been sloshed every time I’ve been home.  I want her to be sober when we have the conversation but I’m starting to lose patience and I’m thinking about just handing it to her no matter the state of mind she’s in.”

“Wow.  I’m sorry.”  Lame, I know.  But, honestly, I don’t know what else there is for me to say.

“Told you before, babe, don’t apologize,” he reminds me.

“You want to watch a movie?”  I ask when we’ve finished the food and two beers each.

He nods and I stand to find a DVD from my cabinet.  I bend over and smile at his resulting groan.

“Damn, woman, your ass should be illegal.”

I can’t help the laughter that falls from my lips.

I hit play, flick the light off and curl up on the couch beside him.  His arm drapes across my shoulders and he arranges me so I’m lying beside him.

“Is this appropriate?” I whisper, praying he says no, and not just because I’m comfortable, but because I
like
being in this spot.  It’s warm, it’s comforting and I can feel his steady heart beating under my cheek.

“Relax and watch the movie, baby.”

I do as I’m told, all the while trying hard not to concentrate on the trail of warmth that his fingers are leaving as they trace up and down my spine, soothingly.

***

I’m rustled from sleep sometime during the night.  My eyes crack open slightly but I shut them again. 

“Go back to sleep, baby,” I hear him whisper as he pulls the covers over my body.

I think I feel him kiss my temple before he leaves. 

The next morning, I
know
he kissed me, because the spot is still tingling and my fingers absently rub the spot randomly throughout the day.

After we’d watched the first movie, we spent time getting to know each other more.  He told me about the club and how his dad had helped bring it back to a club they were all proud to be part of.  I shared about my parents, my gran and Lacey.  He shared more about the club and about his role as President.

We didn’t speak about Amber.  That made me happy.  I wanted to talk about things that mattered to
us
.  I didn’t want to keep hearing about the situation that was keeping us apart.  Thankfully, Switch seemed to feel the same way and we talked, laughed and talked some more for
hours.
  It was sometime during the second movie that I must have fallen asleep.  I’m not sure how long I’d been asleep before he gently lifted me and carried me into bed.

I’m glad we spent that time together.  I’m also glad he didn’t try anything, other than to kiss my temple.  Because, I’m not sure I would have been able to deny him.