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Thus, my position as Mercy Raven MC baker began.
Though the kitchen is dated, it has all I need to make yummy treats. The first day was cookies, followed by brownies on the second day. On the third day, I made a pie, which disappeared within minutes.
Each day, Gauge or one of the other bikers takes me to the grocery store. I then work in the kitchen for a good chunk of the day. One of any dessert is not enough for this crew. As soon as I set something down, the guys are all over it. All baked goods are doubled, but they’ll need to be quadrupled with the other half of the crew returning home.
In between baking, I help the guys around the rental house. I’m not afraid of getting my hands dirty—house cleaning and laundry are not new concepts for me. To the crew’s credit, they’re extremely neat. Must have something to do from their training in the Navy. The guys appreciate my help after working on an assignment or doing surveillance all night.
The rumble of engines riding onto the property tells me the other MC members have returned from their assignment in Utah. Eager to reunite and party with their brothers, the rest of the crew exits the rental. Music blasts, and the guys become rowdy.
A few minutes later, Atlas enters the tiny kitchen with his heavy pack. The Goliath-size man still intimidates me, but I know he’s a good person despite the killer look in his black eyes. Maybe if he found a woman who could keep his demons at bay, he wouldn’t walk around as if the weight of the world rested on his shoulders. He deserves happiness like what Gauge and I have.
Atlas smiles and pecks me on the top of my head before snagging a baked good on his way to the bunkrooms.
The bunkrooms are something to be desired. I may have come from nothing, but I always had my own room. Sharing a twin bed with Gauge in a room housing three other dudes is not exactly an upgrade. However, I sleep more soundly with my head on Gauge’s chest. He respects my boundaries by not tucking me in or spooning me. Though we’ve only known each other a week, I know deep in my bones he would never harm me.
Gauge told me the living arrangements are temporary since Atlas bought a hundred acres on the city outskirts where he plans to build a new headquarters for the security company he runs. All of that is lovely, but it does nothing to lessen the blow of sharing an intimate space with a bunch of dudes.
To add to the awkwardness, Punk and Chase have invited bunnies into the shared space for intimacy. It became apparent pretty dang quick this is normal behavior for the club members. Sometimes they don’t even make it to the bunkrooms. I ignore the orgies as best I can, but it’s hard when it’s in your face. I’m not a judgmental person. The bikers and bunnies can have as much sex as they want with whoever they want. I only wish I didn’t have to witness it.
I’ve resisted the urge to engage in anything sexual with Gauge when so many people are around. The walls in this place are as thick as tissue paper. Noise travels—everywhere. And thanks to Chase and Punk’s teasing the morning I lost my virginity, I’m acutely aware I’m not quiet when in the throes of passion.
Gauge doesn’t pressure me, but I can see he wants me. His daily morning wood digging into my stomach has made it abundantly clear. The sexual tension between us is palpable. The heated looks, the gentle touches, the stolen kisses… The man has me in a constant state of arousal to the point if I walk in on one more person having sex, I may go find Gauge and mount him.
Speak of the devil.
Gauge enters the kitchen, noticing we’re alone. A crooked grin takes over his face as he saunters to my side, where I work a lump of dough.
Leaning in, he murmurs against my ear, “There’s my gorgeous woman. Smells good in here.”
My core tightens, warmth flooding my abdomen. It’s a struggle to keep my hormones in check.
“I’m baking scones. It’s a new recipe.”
“Are they as tasty as you?”
Is he…flirting with me?“Pardon?”
“Maybe you should make ones with peaches,” he suggests, wagging his eyebrows.
My heart somersaults. Yeah, he’s flirting. “I—I could. Are peaches your favorite?”
He presses his body against mine, running his nose along my neck. I bite my bottom lip to stop myself from moaning on the spot.
“Love peaches,” he murmurs along my heated, erogenous zone.
I swallow the butterflies working their way up my throat before they cut off my vocal cords. “Any requests? Peach streusel? Peach pie? The options are endless.”
Gauge sniggers as his hands run down my side. “How about the peaches and cream between your thighs?”
The ball of dough in my hands falls on the counter with a muted thud. My thighs squeeze together, but it’s too late. My panties are already damp with my need. Did he really say that out loud?
“You look hot in an apron. Wish this was the only thing you were wearing. Easy access and all.”
Scratch damp. I’m saturated.
Avoiding sex at headquarters is futile, ticking down like a NASA space launch. “Gauge,” I pant helplessly, blushing head to toe.
Gauge nips my ear. “You know what has a hundred and forty-eight teeth and holds back the hulk?”
