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I blew out a breath and tightened my grip on Alexandra’s waist. I could feel every breath she took through the thin fabric of her tank top. And from my vantage point where I was sitting, I was nearly at eye level with her breasts, which was making it very difficult to concentrate on her face when all I wanted to do was kiss the top of her cleavage, tug her shirt and bra down, sucking a nipple into my mouth…
No. Focus. Alexandra’s safety was still on the line. I had to keep a clear head. Otherwise, she would pay the price because I was acting like a horny teenage boy who couldn’t think of anything except getting his dick wet.
“He’s still alive,” I repeated. “And that means he won’t stop. I know guys like Stephen. He will keep coming after you, Alexandra. This is only the beginning.”
She stared at me for several seconds, frozen. Then she shook her head, pulling away.
“No. I think he learned his lesson.”
She gathered the first aid kit and the bloodied washcloth, turning away. I let her go, my hands sliding away from her. I could see the panic in her eyes, the fear that things would only get worse before they got better.
I sat there, silent, unmoving, as Alexandra slid the first aid kit back onto the shelf. She chucked the washcloth into a bin labeleddirty laundryby the door. She stopped, her hand braced on the door frame. Then she bowed her head.
“Fuck,” she rasped.
It pained me to see her like this – slowly coming to the realization that Stephen wasn’t done wreaking havoc on her life. He’d already done enough damage but now he would kill her if given the chance.
“Let me help you,” I said.
Alexandra raised her head to look at me.
“I can’t ask you to do that,” she replied. “You’ve already become more involved than you should be. It’s not fair that you might catch heat for my problems. I…I have to figure out a way to handle this.”
I paused for a moment before saying, “Like going to the cops? Getting a restraining order?”
Alexandra propped one hand on her hip as she scrubbed at the back of her neck. She knew, even as I said it, that she wouldn’t gain much traction there. The cops were useless when it came to domestic abuse cases. She could try to get a restraining order but Stephen had money, power, influence. He could easily bypass the order, flash some cash, and get away with it. Probably wouldn’t even earn a slap on the wrist.
I leaned forward, propping my elbows on my knees.
“Let me help you, Alexandra,” I repeated. “My boys and I will keep you safe.”
For several long seconds, she studied me. Then she rubbed her arms as if she was cold, even though the storage closet was stuffy and bordered on too-warm with two bodies crammed into it.
“I can’t ask you to do that, Brewer,” she said. “I’m sorry. You already have blood on your hands. I would hate to see anyone else get hurt because of me.”
I stifled a sigh. I respected and understood her desire for independence and autonomy. The guilt must be eating her alive that issues with her abusive ex had spilled over into the public eye. But it still didn’t sit well with me.
“I’m not afraid of a little blood, sweetheart,” I said. It was one last ditch effort, attempting to change her mind.
Alexandra cupped my chin in her hand.
“But I am,” she said. “I’ll stay at a motel for a while and lay low.”
Out of sight, out of mind. In some cases, that works. With a man like Stephen, he would only become more determined to sniff out where she was hiding. But Alexandra was hellbent on keeping me away from her trouble. So all I could do was stay on standby until that prick made a move on her again.
Chapter Five
After three days of doing my best to fly under the radar, I was bored out of my mind already. I let my boss know that I needed some time off of work. I couldn’t show up at the bar. Stephen would have eyes there, especially after Brewer pummeled him to defend me.
The thought of Brewer sent a rush of heat straight to my core. I clenched my thighs together, craving what little friction my jeans offered. That man had me flustered and needy as hell. Being in that little storage closet with him had been nothing but overwhelming in the best possible way. Between the cigar scent on his leather kutte and the intensity of his blue eyes as he watched me, spoke to me, I’d struggled to put a coherent sentence together and to think rationally. My entire body had been coiled tight with arousal.
That night, after packing up a few things and heading straight to a motel outside of Merry Field, I had dreamed of Brewer and that little closet. I had imagined him picking me up like I weighed nothing at all. Slotting his hips between my thighs. Pressing my back against the wall and rutting into me until I couldn’t stand because my legs were shaking so hard.
I shouldn’t be thinking about him like this. Brewer had been violent – brutal. I should be concerned that he’d nearly beaten Stephen to death. Instead, I was having wet dreams about him.
I sighed and rose from my chair, shutting off the television. Sitting in this motel room with only reruns to get my mind off my lust for Brewer wasn’t working. Grabbing my sunglasses and a baseball cap from the side table, I stepped outside for a short walk.
For the sake of my sanity, I only allowed myself to leave my motel room for necessities like groceries and gas. I washed my clothes in my room, using the bathtub and a bar of soap, hanging everything up to dry afterwards. Every time I stepped out of my room, I ran the risk of being seen and recognized. I couldn’t afford for word to get back to Stephen that I was still around. I wanted him to think I’d packed up and disappeared for good, never to return.
