An Outlaw Monster (Back Down Devil MC #10)(19)

I swallowed a lump of guilt. I had come that close to killing a man who had been fighting for my freedom? A man who returned to his country confused, hurt, and wanting the life of freedom and fighting enemies.

I drank half the beer in silence and then grabbed my bag. “Do you mind if I take a shower?”

“Down the hall, second door on the right,” Trent said.

Then he turned around. It looked like he was in pain or just angry about something.

I walked down the hall and entered the bathroom. I shut the door and locked it. Looking in the mirror, I looked like eight shades of hell had washed over my face. I was still in those tight, stupid clothes from the gambling thing. I grabbed for the bottom of my shirt and lifted it over my head. It felt so good to get that shirt off. Next came the pants. I had to wiggle and wrestle out of them they were so freaking tight to my body. I slipped out of my panties and then reached back and unsnapped my bra. I was then naked, in Trent’s bathroom.

I sidestepped and turned on the water. Bending slightly, I looked at my full breasts as they just dangled there in front of me. When the water got hot, I turned on the shower and started to step inside. Then I stopped and glanced back to the bathroom door. My mind started to race. I had dueling voices messing with me. Before I could reason with myself, I walked to the door and slowly unlocked it.

Just in case Trent wanted to come in.

By the time I got into the shower, I was fully turned on. To the point where my nipples were hard and sensitive. Each time the hot water hit my chest, I would wiggle a little, trying to calm myself. My thighs ached a little and I wasn’t wet just because of the shower water. There was something else there, waiting for Trent.

What is wrong with you? He’s a killer. He’s called the monster.

I couldn’t help myself.

He had saved me and protected me. Hell, even tied to a chair with my life in the balance, Trent had done more for me than Daxton ever did. And before Daxton, my last boyfriend… let’s not go there.

I stepped into the water even more and let it rush against my face. My hands touched my sides and ran down my body. All I could feel were flaws.

All I wanted to feel was Trent’s hands on me.





eleven.



(trent)



The second the water turned on, my cock thickened. I had my beer in my hand and stood at the end of the hallway, staring at the door. I didn’t need to look down to see the bulge slithering down my leg, I could f*cking feel it.

This woman was driving me mad already. There weren’t many that did that kind of shit to me and for Harlee, there was no good reason. I hated to admit I actually felt bad for her because that meant I actually felt something. My job was to be the muscle of the MC. The brains were for the President, the VP, and a guy like Cade. I was supposed to break noses, necks, and if you had a slit between your legs, I’d break your goddamn heart.

Something inside me said Harlee needed to be alive.

Fine. Stay alive for another night and day.

I finished off the beer and walked to the kitchen for another one. I looked out the window and saw two prospects sitting behind my motorcycle. They were on an all night protection run for me. There were probably two more circling the neighborhood, engines revving, making sure their thunder was heard. Like the warning roar of a lion, needing to keep enemies away.

I twisted the top off a fresh beer and went to the bedroom. There was obviously only one bed there. And there were two people. Man. Woman. The equation f*cking solves itself, right? It usually solved it in my situation. You came into my bed and you were getting f*cked six ways from Sunday. If I was tired, you could sleep until morning. Most of the time, you were tossed on your ass to find a ride home.

I couldn’t do any of that with Harlee though.

I took off my leather cut and tossed it to my dresser. I kicked off my black boots and let out a breath of relief. One thing I learned running in this life was that you had to find ways to chill. For a minute. An hour. A few hours. That’s why we loved whiskey and *. They were easy drugs and worth the addiction.

As I stood there, thinking, I heard a knock.

The bedroom door was open though.

Glancing over my shoulder, I watched the bathroom door slowly open. I saw half of Harlee’s face, her dark eyes and wet hair.

My cock pulsed even more.

“Trent?”

“Yeah, darling?” I said.

“There’s no towel in here.”

I saw her cheeks flush a little.

I saw curved outline of her shoulder.

“Open that door and walk right out and get one,” I said with a grin.

She shut the door.

The truth was that if I wanted to see her naked that bad, nothing could stop me. Hell, the monster wouldn’t have stopped no matter what.

I went to the hallway closet and grabbed a fresh towel. It was pathetic to think but as I stared at the towel I realized it was going to feel every inch of Harlee’s wet body. Long before my tongue would get its chance.

I grabbed the doorknob and turned it. I opened the door just a sliver. “I have a towel for you, darling.”

She appeared again and opened the door just enough to slide the towel through. It was more than she had opened it the first time which meant I saw even more. A bare leg, the roundness of her hip, even a quick glimpse of the side of her breast.

The door shut again and I made a fist and put it to the door.