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I blink once, twice, but I can’t shake my reaction to her. She’s beautiful and unlike the usual women I go for. She’s shapely but tone with wild hair, though not in a trashy way, and she has a nervous smile that makes me want to give her a hug and tell her everything will be okay.
Holy shit, now I want to be warm and fuzzy and hug people?
The medications are fucking with me. Never has a woman gotten me so twisted in an instant. It’s the accident. It’s the changes. It’s anything and everything but her. Regardless, with my club brother and Evan present, I know I have to focus on not chasing her away or fucking her in front of them. I don’t know which I want to do more.
Since I don’t want to seem like a complete asshole to my new roommate, I make my eyes move off her mouthwatering breasts, up over her face, until I reach her eyes.
It sounds cliché, but I think time fucking stops … or maybe the world. I sort of feel like the floor beneath my chair is shifting sideways, and I’m about to fall out of my chair like a flaming idiot.
I’m not trying to sound like some Shakespearian pussy-boy, but her rich brown eyes shine at me in such a way I swear they are as bright as pennies … only prettier. They are the most gorgeous eyes I have ever seen, and I have the irrational urge to see them against my sheets, along with all that wild, sexy, curly brown hair she has.
It’s not as long as I usually like it, but the way her curls fall around her face makes me wonder what they would look like after I fucked her into the mattress good and hard for a few hours straight.
I’m still lost in her beautiful brown eyes as she comes through my doorway then stops dead cold. I snap out of my daydream to realize she’s standing right in front of me … and I have to crane my head back to keep my eyes trained on hers, which won’t stop staring at me.
The sensation that flows through me is worse than having ice cold water poured on you when you’re asleep. It is more than a shock; it is a hit to the very manhood I didn’t think I had left. Now I’m obliterated completely.
All by a curvy, little woman who is looking at me with a mixture of hope and dread.
I never understood the phrase “love to hate” until just now. Everything about the foxy woman in front of me lights up every caveman instinct I never knew I had, and I’m half a man who can’t do a damn thing about it now.
~Desirae~
My hands are shaking by the time Ice stops in front of the condo door. I don’t think I have ever been this nervous to meet a client. The thing is, these aren’t normal clients or normal circumstances. I work for badasses who could probably make me disappear in a heartbeat if they had to. The Hellions are damn good guys I know would never hurt me, but all of these bikers are brand new to me. I don’t care if Tank double pinky swore I would be safe here; they need to earn my trust as much as I have to earn theirs.
Ice opens the door and holds it open for me. Warily, I step from where I was standing off to the side and look into the infamous Hammer’s apartment for the very first time. It seems nice, if a little messy and sparse. There is the bare minimum furniture of the typical man cave: leather couches and big ass television. There are no knick-knacks or decorative items to liven up the place. There are nice, hard wood floors, and what I can see of his furniture looks to be on the expensive side instead of cheap. But where is the patient I have been warned so thoroughly about?
Taking two more steps until I’m through the door, my hand tightens on my bag’s shoulder strap in anticipation. I look toward the other side of the room, and that’s where I find a hulking man in a wheelchair that almost seems too small for him.
His hands are clutching his chair’s arm pads so tightly I think that he may be more nervous than I am. My gaze travels from his hands up to his face, and I almost stop dead in my tracks.
Would he hate me if I told him he is gorgeous? Because he is.
He has short, spiky, blond hair cut close to his scalp; chiseled cheekbones; a strong, square jaw; and eyes that sort of remind me of the ocean. They are murky, deep, swirling shades of blue and green that draw me in, only to spit me back out a second later due to the emotion that begins to burn through them: anger.
