Brawl (32 page)

***

“D
ad! Brendan Taylor’s at the door.”

My middle brother Joel’s yelling interrupts my attempted nap. My heart flips at the news. Jumping off my bed, I peek out of my bedroom door.

I had a little bit too much to drink with my friends last night—especially by my standards—so I’ve been moping around my room since I woke up just before lunchtime. Combining with my hangover is my confusion over what happened with Brendan last night. It’s resulted in quite the headache. I can’t see anyone in the living area so I assume they’re all out the back of our house. Curiosity getting the better of me, I creep toward the back door.

I don’t know what to make of him turning up at our house after last night. He’s never been here in the six and a half years we’ve lived here. My biker family aren’t in the same social circle as the likes of Brendan and his fourth-generation farming family. In fact, they're polar opposites, considering Brendan’s father has been the local Member of Parliament for the last fifteen years and my dad’s the Vice President of an outlaw Motorcycle Club. The only time we mingle with their social class is at district events, and even then everyone tends to group into their own social circles.

“Madelaine, honey. Your dad wants you,” Wendy says quietly from behind me as she walks through the glass sliding doors back into our house.

Startled, I almost jump out of my skin. My heart pounds harder, exacerbating my headache.

“They’re on the back deck waiting for you.”

“Who’s they?” I ask her, faking ignorance to see if she'll give me a heads up or pass on any gossip she knows. She smiles at me, seeing straight through my ruse, pointing toward the back of the house without saying another word.

Once she’s walked past me and into the kitchen, I check my reflection in the hall mirror, happy that I’ve at least had a shower and piled my long mane on top of my head in some semblance of an up-do. I wish I’d known that he was going to come here because I would have put some makeup on and worn something other than my normal tight jeans, singlet, and unbuttoned short-sleeved shirt. I giggle to myself at that lie—I’m pretty sure I’d still be wearing the same thing even with prior warning. The only really girly things about me are my long nails and my expensive addiction to designer shoes.

Walking through the house and out the back door, I find my dad and Brendan sitting in the entertaining area having a beer. Benji’s hovering as well; an unpleasant look on his face.

“Wendy said you want me, Dad?”

I smile at him trying to gauge his mood, and then at Brendan. He looks as gorgeous as ever, his chocolate brown hair, deep brown eyes, and tanned skin creating masculine perfection. Running my eyes over his lanky frame, I catalog what he’s wearing—blue jeans that fit him just right, and a white shirt that stretches nicely across his muscled chest and shoulders. On his feet he has a pair of dusty work boots.

Country boy perfection, my friends described him as last night.

Personally, I was ambivalent toward him last night and confused by his strange way of approaching me before we kissed. My opinion that it was slightly creepy was played down by my romantic friends so I’d shut up. In the early hours of this morning, my very envious girlfriends—and a large amount of vodka—had helped me decide that I’d go on a date with Brendan on the off chance that he actually asked me after our kiss.

Apparently, he's so hot that my friends will kill me if I don’t accept any offer he makes.

Dad clears his throat, drawing my attention back to him. My father’s a huge man. Brendan is only slightly shorter, albeit a lot leaner. Dad's pretty intimidating, but Brendan seems to be holding his own at the moment. He looks relaxed enough.

From the corner of my eye, I can see his eyes moving over my form, his slow perusal causing my pulse to quicken. A blush rises to my cheeks when I notice that my father’s watching Brendan, the hardening of his eyes telling me that he doesn’t really appreciate what he’s witnessing.

When Dad sits straighter in his chair and pats the seat next to him, I sit and wait for someone to speak. “Baby girl, Brendan’s dropped in to ask me if he can take you out on a date. I told him that it’s up to you what you do. Although, I’ve warned him that if you say yes and he goes and hurts you in any way, I’ll fuck him up. Permanently.”

For the first time in my life, I wince at my father calling me baby girl. He’s addressed me like that since the day I was born. I’ve never really thought about how young it made me sound until I had a man I wanted to impress.

“That goes double for me,” I hear Benji mutter.

Wow. That’s strange. I thought Benji would be keen for me to do something other than study. He’s always mocking me about being “Nigel No-Friends” since I only have a handful of friends.

Ignoring Benji, I grin at my straightforward dad. As much as he annoys me sometimes, I’m my dad’s girl, and I love him to pieces. The threat he issued is such a typical thing for my domineering father to say, and I’d be lying if I said I didn't appreciate his concern. Brendan’s the first man to ever have the balls to ask Dad if he can take me out.

My poor father’s entering unchartered waters right along with me.

I regard Brendan inquiringly. His wide eyes and fake-looking grin tell me that he’s a little intimidated by Dad’s speech. “What did you have in mind?” I ask.

Sympathy wells within me for Brendan and the situation he’s put himself in for me.

It's probably not the usual route he takes to ask a girl out. Actually, it definitely isn't, since I've never heard of him asking a girl to date him. It's unfortunate, and a little embarrassing, since I'm seventeen not thirteen, but Brendan will need to get used to Dad’s straightforward ways if he wants to take this past one date.

“I thought I could pick you up and we could head into Roma for dinner on Friday night. If you don’t already have plans?”

“That sounds good to me. What time would you like to pick me up?” I respond without hesitation.

Benji groans at my acceptance. I shoot him daggers with my eyes before returning my gaze to Dad and Brendan. I have no idea what Benji’s problem is right now. I thought he was friends with Brendan. Brendan’s handsome face splits into a cheeky, satisfied grin at my response, causing Dad to put his beer down a bit harder than necessary. At his smug response, regret filters through me.

I know Brendan’s used to girls jumping to be with him. I wished I’d played a little harder to get, just so he realizes I'm not easy like the other girls he messes with. I'm not one for game playing, so this thought occurs too late to be of benefit.

“Would five o'clock be all right with you?”

I nod in agreement, my cool exterior belying the excitement churning inside.
I can't believe Brendan Taylor just asked me out.

Brendan turns his attention to my dad.

“What time do I need to have Maddi home, Mr O’Brien?

“It’s Beast, Brendan. No man in my family answers to Mr O’Brien.” He chuckles in his deep voice, his demeanor a tiny fraction friendlier. Brendan did the right thing by asking Dad about my curfew. If he keeps this up, he'll win him over in no time.
Hopefully.

“I think midnight is a fair time,” Dad answers.

My smile broadens at Dad’s answer. I’d expected him to say something ridiculous like nine-thirty. Dad wiggles his thick, black eyebrows at me, knowing he’s pleased me with his answer.

He makes idle chitchat with Brendan for a few minutes as they finish their beers. I sit back in my chair smiling—not adding much to the conversation—my day made and my hangover forgotten. Brendan soon says his goodbyes to both of us, reiterating to me that he’ll be here at five o'clock in three night’s time to pick me up for our dinner date.

After Brendan leaves, Benji throws himself down at the table with us. Anger clouding his features, he lets us know in no uncertain terms what he thinks about my decision to go on a date with Brendan.

“Dad, you can’t let her go out with him. He’s bad fucking news. He goes through women like you wouldn’t believe. I won’t have my sister getting humped and dumped by some farmer’s asshole kid.” Benji points at me, “You’re way too good for him, Mads.”

“Oh, shut up, Benjamin.”

My blood boils at his insinuation that Brendan will be able to get me into bed after one date. I have more respect for myself than that. I hadn’t kissed anyone properly until Brendan last night—let alone slept with them—and it’d take much more than one date for me to even consider it. I’m saving myself for an all-consuming love like my parents. I don’t care if it makes me seem old fashioned or weird. And if Brendan or any other man doesn't like that, that's their problem, not mine.

“I’m not a slut like you. It’s one date. It mightn’t even go any further than that. It’s my choice if it does.”

“I agree, baby girl,” Dad interrupts. His voice has dropped a notch, a sign he’s working himself into a rage at Benji for daring to question his decision.

Pointing one of his sausage-like fingers in Benji’s face, he stares at him through narrowed eyes that are designed to intimidate. My twin struggles to keep from retreating, only just holding his ground in the face of Dad’s ire. If I wasn't so pissed at him, I'd be proud. Even as the mouthiest of my siblings, I still find it hard to directly question Dad.

“She has a good head on her shoulders, which is more than I can say for you most of the fucking time. I’ve warned that kid that I'll fuck him up if he hurts her, and I know she’ll come to me if he fucks up in any way.”

“You’re being fucking stupid, Mads. You’re gonna get hurt,” Benji yells at me, giving up arguing with Dad. He charges inside, slamming the back door behind him.

Dad shakes his head at me in sympathy and I shrug, brushing aside Benji’s prediction.

We have no idea how right Benji will end up being...

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CHAPTER ONE

B
aby blue walls.

I don’t have baby blue walls.

Why that’s my first thought I wouldn’t have a clue, considering there’s a warm, hard body wrapped around my naked form when I’m positive that I usually sleep alone.

Throbbing pain greets me when I crack first one eye and then the other. The pain is just bearable so I persevere. Opening my eyes all the way as I slowly roll to face the person snuggled into my back, I take in the luscious dark and wavy hair that tops their head.  Piercing dark, brown eyes meet mine when I lower my gaze and I flinch.

“Good morning Amber. How are you feeling today, baby?”

Even with his voice sleep-roughened, the stranger sounds like sex on a stick. It’s ridiculous but my core clenches at his words, warmth flooding my lower belly as my nipples furl into tight buds. 

“Roll over, baby.”

Not waiting for an answer he gently nudges me onto my back and I obey him without further thought.

Moving between my legs, he prods my pussy with his hot erection. I gasp as he slides his length between my wet lower lips, from my throbbing clit to my entrance and back again. A slow, precise torture that accelerates my heartrate and spikes my desire. 

“Oh, Amber. Baby. Two more days. I can’t wait.” He groans against my mouth as he seeks my lips with his own. Belatedly, thoughts of stopping this stranger from touching me—kissing me—enter my mind but it’s as if he has me under a spell. As soon as the idea of resistance enters my mind, it disappears like a puff of smoke. Replaced by a craving to please him—to make him happy.

“Two days until what?” I force the question from my throat when he falls away from me onto his side. Staring down at me with intense, lust filled eyes, he shakes his head. His expression changes from sexual to upset in a heartbeat, the corners of his full lips drooping as he drops his gaze from my eyes.

Panic at disappointing him fills me and an apology makes its way to the tip of my tongue.

“I’m...” I begin, but he cuts me off by softly laying a finger against my lips.

“Baby, don’t say sorry.” An obviously fake smile lifts his lips, causing my pulse to rise in panic again. “We have two days until we can make love again. Two days until we get the all-clear after your accident. You remember, don’t you?”

He runs a finger gently down the side of my head. I jerk away from his touch with surprise when his finger meets bare skin where there should be hair. Scowling, he looks at me through hurt eyes. I smile tentatively, feeling bad for hurting him.

Lifting my own hand, I gingerly touch the same spot he did. The raised lump of a long scar runs from my forehead in an arc. It ends behind my ear. The scar doesn’t hurt, however it feels new. Still slightly swollen and a tiny bit tender.

Scrambling from the bed, I pay no mind to my nakedness as I move towards the mirror that I spotted attached to one of the doors of the walk-in wardrobe.

Standing in front on it on wobbly legs, I stare at the unknown woman who greets me.

A short woman with black shoulder length hair with a large part shaved bald near her right ear, big brown eyes, and pale skin looks back at me. I don’t recognize her at all.

“Who am I?” I breathe the question as I touch the cool glass with a shaking hand. Lifting my eyes to his as he approaches, I ask. “Who are you?”

Coming to a stop behind me, the man wraps his arms around my waist and pulls me to him tightly. He’s naked as well, his erection still standing tall and proud, poking against the middle of my back. He regards me over the top of my head, our eyes meeting in the mirror, and I run my eyes over what I can see of his tall, rangy form. Athletically built, tanned and lightly muscled, he’s extremely good looking.

Tall, dark and handsome just about sums him up.  

Holding himself with an autocratic, self-assured air, he’s intimidating yet it feels right to be in his arms. A complete contradiction in emotions since I’m certain I don’t know him. I can’t explain it, but I’m overwhelmed with the need to please this man, almost as if his needs supersede my own.