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“I will?” he asks.
Humming, I try to wriggle out of his arms, but he doesn’t let me. Instead, he pulls me closer, but to be fair, I don’t really try that hard to escape. I’m not sure if I want to. I like the way he kisses me. I like the way I feel in his arms. I like a hell of a lot about him, but at the end of the day, I don’t even know him.
When my fingers slide across his chest, they catch slightly on his patch. I trace the letters there. Dark Horse MC. I still don’t know what it all means, really. Just the rumors, and I don’t put much stock in rumors. I open my mouth to ask him, but he shakes his head, his hand leaving my ass and wrapping around my wrist at his chest.
“Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answers to.” His tone is hard, and his words are a warning.
I’m not sure if I want to ask the question, but I also know that I have to. He’s talking about having my body, seeing me, touching me, kissing me, and I need to know who he is. I’m not easy. Boys or men have never wanted much to do with me. My offers have always been slim, and this seems huge.
“Should I be scared of you?” I ask.
He laughs softly. It’s deep and sexy. It causes my entire body to gasp for air. Not just my mouth and my lungs but every single part of my being.
“You should be terrified, sweetness. But if you think this patch means I’ll hurt you physically, that you should never fear.”
I lick my lips, rolling them a few times before I open my mouth, then close it. I don’t know how to respond to that. I suck in a breath and then let it out slowly. I gather all the strength and bravery I have, although, at this point, I’m pretty sure I’m running on pure adrenaline.
When I speak, I expect his smile to fade, but it doesn’t. It gets bigger, and that’s when it is confirmed that this man views me and this situation as a complete challenge—and he likes it. Maybe he even loves it.
“I don’t know you, King.”
He hums and lowers his head, his lips touching the corner of mine before his mouth shifts and moves so I can feel his breath against my ear. “You will, sweetness… at least you’ll know all you need to know about me.”
“I’m not having sex with you. I’m not fucking you. I don’t even know you.” My words are firm, my tone somewhat no-nonsense.
He cups my cheek, then slides his thumb across my bottom lip. “Yeah, sweetness,” he rasps. “You will, but I’ll take you home tonight and drop you off if that’s what you want.”
I’m not sure if I should feel victorious about this, but I decide I’m going to. I have a feeling that once he drops me off at my place and I’m no longer standing right in front of him, he’ll have no problem forgetting my existence.
CHAPTER
SEVEN
SHAWN
Sitting straight up, I look around the room, my heart racing. I don’t know what woke me up, but a light sheen of sweat is covering my entire body. I wipe the sweat from my forehead and let out a heavy sigh as I throw my legs over the side of the bed.
Walking toward my bathroom, I do my business, then wash my hands. Slowly, I lift my head and stare at my reflection in the mirror. I look exhausted. I also appear flushed as I stare at myself. Lifting my hands to my cheeks, I touch my skin and let out another breath before I turn and head out of the bathroom.
I dreamed of him. I don’t know why. I’ve never dreamed of a man before, but I can’t stop thinking about his hands on my body, on my skin, and then beneath my clothes. He kissed me a few times last night, but nothing more happened. He left me at my apartment with a kiss and a smile.
I’m not sure if he’ll really forget my existence come tomorrow, but I need him to. Otherwise, I think I might throw myself at him the next time I see him. So I need to not see him again. That’s what I say to myself anyway. He needs to just forget I exist. And I need to do the damn same.
Moving through my small apartment, I head toward the fridge and tug it open, reaching for the pitcher of filtered water I keep inside. I turn and set it down on the counter, then open the cabinet beside the sink and take out a clean glass. Filling it up, I lift the glass to my lips and begin to drink.
I’m thirsty and tired. I don’t know what to do. I’m so conflicted about everything. On the one hand, sex is just an act, right? What does it even matter if I give in to King? I love the way he makes me feel, and I know it would be amazing between us.
On the other hand, should I just do whatever with anyone? Shouldn’t I keep part of myself sacred? It’s not like I’m a virgin. I’ve had sex before, just not a lot. Like, so not a lot, that I’ve only ever been with one person. My high school boyfriend of a total of three months.
We had sex, and that was it. He got what he wanted, and he was gone. I looked him up on social media a few months ago, and his new girlfriend looked about eighteen, maybe. It seems like nothing has changed. He is, without a doubt, working girls, chasing them, then leaving them when he finally has them.
I wish I could warn them all, but I know how he is. How manipulative he is, and I know he’s already laid the foundation of the bricks in place in case someone tells them who he is.
So would staying hidden away, not seeing any man and focusing on my failing career be better? Or would it be a lot more fun to be wild and free with a man who would make me feel amazing but who I know won’t give two shits about me when he’s finished?
I walk back to bed, slip under the covers, and let out a heavy sigh as I roll to my side and face the window. I’m not sure what to do or what to expect at this point, but what I do know is that with the chaos of my life, of my bakery, I want to have some fun.
My eyes grow heavier and heavier, and then, finally, I fall asleep with thoughts of King on my brain. Thoughts of King seem to consume my every contemplation, and I can’t help but feel a sense of relief. It’s kind of nice to worry about something other than my failing business for a moment.
