They look at each other and let out perfectly synced sighs of irritation. “Come on.” It’s Beast’s turn to speak, and when he does, he crooks a finger at me. A very large finger. Christ almighty. His hands are the size of a baseball glove.
I raise my eyebrows, looking at the gesture. Not because I’m being difficult, at least not on purpose. But for the span of a heartbeat, my mind veers off course and I wonder whatelsemight be big about this man… and now I’m looking at his crotch.
Fuck. I avert my eyes, but it’s too late. His lips curl in a dastardly smirk. It’s the first smile I’ve actually seen out of him, so of course it makes my core tense up like I’m a sex-starved nympho.
“See something you like?”
I swallow and try to meet Beast’s eye, but it’s not an easy feat. “Nope, just trying to figure out if that stain is from the bar or your bike.” There’s no stain, but it’s the best I can do. What am I supposed to say?Yeah! You know what? I was wondering if your hog is proportionate to your other extremities. Care to show me, you know, for science?Those words, coming from my mouth, are about as plausible as a snowflake surviving in hell.
Beast glances down at his remarkably clean jeans. “Uh-huh…” Then he turns and walks toward the stairs. “Let’s go, Cherry.”
“Call me Cherry one more time,” I mutter under my breath, following him up to the landing. He leads me to a bedroom, opening the door and gesturing me inside. It isn’t exactly decorated, but it’s clean, which is more than I expected.
Well, clean-ish.
The bed is made, the corners of the graphite-gray blanket tucked in with laser precision. Laundry spills out of a plastic basket with a cracked handle. Boots are tossed on the floor of the closet and there’s the distinct smell of leather in the air. Leather and musk. If you could bottle my olfactory catnip and pop it in a room spray, this would be it. Bad man in a bottle.
But then I realizewhyit smells like testosterone and sex; this is one oftheirrooms. They expect me to sleep in one of their beds. The implication makes my heart pound, both in fear and… something else I’d rather not acknowledge. I move farther into the room, watching both of them out of the corner of my eye. I’m not in the habit of trusting men, especially the biker variety.
“This is…” I trail off.
Beast runs his hand through his hair, kicking a stray boot back toward the closet. “My room. But it’s yours while you’re here.” His tone doesn’t leave a lot of room for questions. I hadn’t contemplated sleeping arrangements, but maybe I should have. Then again, to what end? It’s not like they’re running a B&B. What was I expecting? To be shown to The Rose Room? Maybe some of those mini shampoos?
Beast moves around the room, picking up phone chargers and a laptop. He piles the contraband into an empty plastic crate and leaves the room. When he reappears, he has an extra pillow and a blanket, which he pushes into my arms. He yanks the original bedding off, tossing it onto a leather recliner that sits by the now-empty desk.
Holding my clean bedding, I eye the unchanged sheet. “Got a problem, Red?” Rattler drawls.
“Not to put too fine a point on it, but is that going to pass a black light test?” I ask, pointing at the sheet. “If you two have been playing ‘kitty in the middle’, as you so elegantly put it, I think I’d like a clean sheet, too.”
Rattler chuckles. “Relax, Red. It’s been a long, long time since we had any fun. Military boy over here has a fetish for a well-made bed.”
Beast grunts. “Fetish is a little strong. Just a habit.”
“And the Downy? That’s an old soldier's habit?” Rattler teases. “I didn’t think Uncle Sam sprung for dryer sheets.”
Beast flips him off, wiggling his middle finger at his friend. “Fuck off or I’ll make you go back to doing your own laundry.”
“You do the laundry?” I blurt out. I shouldn’t be surprised. Everyone has to do laundry, I get that. But the mental image of Beast measuring out fabric softener and folding sheets is too bizarre to wrap my head around.
“Yeah, ‘cause then he has to do the dishes,” Beast replies, those deep eyes pulling me in.
“Well, aren’t you two the model of domestic bliss?” I giggle, then clap my hand over my mouth. That was a God awful sound. I’m not a giggler, but after twenty-two hours of stress and adrenaline roller coasters, I’m exhausted and the slap-happy has officially set in.
“I’ll take first watch,” Beast rumbles.
Rattler nods, leaving the room, but not before giving me a wink and one last lust-fueled sweep of his eyes. “Sweet dreams, Red.”
I stare at him. What do I even say to that?You too! Thanks for making my captivity so pleasant. By the by, could you bring me an herbal tea while I settle in?I’m not being kept completely against my will. I know I could leave if I wanted to. But that would mean failing Brandon, and that’s not an option. I’m like fifty percent hostage, thirty percent willing victim, and twenty percent dirty thoughts.
It’s like my body can’t decide where it’s supposed to land. Horny? Annoyed. Now grateful. How about a dose of fear? Just a little one. Oh! And we’re back to horny again. That’s just great.
Beast plops down in the recliner, kicking his feet up and resting his hands behind his head. Bane leaps up, squeezing his bulk alongside the big man. The outline of hard abs are visible through Beast’s t-shirt, the definition making my mouth water.Get a fucking grip, Elle.Easier said than done; especially because Beast’s eyes are pinned on me. They follow my every movement.
I stare back, stripping off my leather jacket. He doesn’t even pretend to look away. “So, what? You’re just going to sit there all night? Watch me sleep?”
Beast shrugs. “Reaper said eyes on you 24/7.”
“Once again, I just want to voice my opinion that this is excessive,” I sigh, turning my back to him and taking off my sweatshirt. My tank top has decent coverage, but I’m dying to take off this fucking bra. It’s stabbing me under the arms and digging into my rib cage. Just one of the many joys of having big boobs.