Outside the Lines (Sons of Templar MC #2.5)(14)

Hansen’s face turned serious and he shook his head. “Christ, I’m a stupid f*ck,” he said. “Missing out on a woman who can make me laugh about a f*ckin’ gunshot wound and make me hard as stone at the same time,” he muttered to himself. His hand trailed my collarbone. “Been missin’ out, Mace, which means I’ve gotta lot of time to make up for.”

I blinked away the slight prickling in my eyes at that statement and let myself wonder how such a switch had been flicked in the last twenty-four hours to turn Hansen into this. Soft eyes, smiles, heartfelt declarations littered with profanities.

I decided not to question it. When you looked too closely at things, you usually found out shit that you didn’t want to know.

“Can you make up for it after you drop me home and let me chain myself to my computer?” I asked lightly, hating that his jaw turned hard at my request. “I’m on deadline for a couple of projects that need to be done by tomorrow,” I told him apologetically. As much as I wanted to stay, I also had to eat. And buy shoes.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath. “Don’t like you in that neighborhood, babe,” he said, repeating his sentiments of the other night.

As much as I liked his concern, I also felt slightly miffed at the unspoken fact that I, as a woman, couldn’t take care of herself because suddenly I was attached to a macho biker.

I reared back slightly, Hansen’s hands made it impossible to completely move off him.

“I feel like we had this conversation the other night. The neighborhood may not be winning any awards for the friendliest street in New Mexico, but no pipe bombs have been detonated there lately either,” I retorted with sharp sarcasm.

“We had that particular conversation when you weren’t mine. You are now,” Hansen replied with a frown.

I narrowed my eyes. “Me becoming yours does not automatically transform me into a helpless damsel unable to function in the real world without an alpha biker at her back,” I told him. “I’ve navigated the real world pretty darn well for twenty-four years. I’m tougher than I look,” I finished. I wasn’t too hot on telling him all the grim details of my bleak experience of the horrors of the real world, so I left it at that.

Hansen’s face hardened. “Yeah babe, I don’t doubt it. Being mine doesn’t mean you can’t handle the real world, just means now I can try my f*ckin’ best to protect you from it,” he told me with determination.

I softened slightly. I couldn’t help it. “How about you try and protect me from it, and also get right with the fact that doesn’t include lecturing me about my zip code,” I said gently, but firmly.

Hansen stared at me a moment. “You got beer at your place?” he asked weirdly.

I nodded.

“Cable?” he continued.

I nodded again.

“Right,” he said, knifing up, and taking me with him.

He set us both on our feet and turned to his dresser.

I watched his back, confused. Then I got distracted at the fluidity of the movement of his defined muscles, making the rider on his tattoo look like he was alive.

He turned after he had yanked on some faded jeans. Commando.

I licked my lips.

He stepped forward, grabbing my hips tightly. “You can’t do that shit, Mace,” he murmured.

I looked up at him. “What shit?”

“Kind of shit that makes me want to throw you back on that bed and bury myself in your *,” he replied in a gravelly voice.

I swallowed. I so wanted him to do that. I struggled to remember why he couldn’t.

“You got deadlines, remember?” he reminded me. “Now, I don’t give a f*ck about deadlines…” he continued, pulling my body flush to his, “…but you seemed mighty concerned about them before.”

“Yes,” I said shakily. “They’re important.” I was talking to myself more than him.

“Get dressed then,” he ordered softly, turning back around.

“You don’t need to get dressed,” I pointed out, moving to locate my clothes. “I’m quite capable of driving myself.”

Someone had dropped off his bike earlier today, I wasn’t sure who, since Hansen had met them outside and I’d stayed in bed under his orders. Not that I could have moved at that moment, my body had been turned to jelly after too many orgasms.

“Don’t want you driving babe, not after last night. Reaction times are delayed after any blow to the head,” he told my back. “I’m drivin’ you.”

He was the medic, I guessed. “How will you get home?” I argued, yanking my cami over my head.

“Not planning on going home,” he told me, slipping on his boots.

“You’re not?” I repeated.

He shook his head. “Haven’t got my fill of you yet, baby, not for today at least. So I’ll drink some beers, watch the game, you do what you need to do. After that, I’ll f*ck you, then we’ll go to sleep,” he told me.

I stared at him, hoping he couldn’t see my belly doing backflips. “Okay,” I finally choked out. “Sounds like a plan.”





“You’re f*cking shitting me?” Arianne screamed into the phone.

I held it out from my ear a second. “I’m as serious as chlamydia,” I whispered, once the ringing in my ears had subsided.