Outside the Lines (Sons of Templar MC #2.5)(32)

I inwardly grinned, arousal building up in my stomach as I worked him harder and warm liquid shot into my mouth as Hansen’s hands tightened on my head.

“Fuck,” he half shouted.

I slowly licked him clean, and then his arms went under my armpits to lift me.

“Jesus, baby,” he murmured, lifting me.

I grinned at him.

He started us toward his bedroom. “Gonna eat you till you scream, Macy. Then I’ll f*ck you till you forget your own name,” he growled, throwing me on the bed.

And for the next two hours, he kept his promise.





It was Saturday. For some, Saturday signaled the start of a blissful, relaxing weekend. For me, it was the opposite. Even though I’d pulled up to the house of dread plastered to Hansen’s back, I couldn’t escape the swirling in my stomach knowing I’d have to spend an hour with her.

“Don’t like you going in there, babe. Don’t like that your eyes don’t get their light back until at least a couple of hours after you leave her,” Hansen said after I’d reluctantly peeled myself off his bike.

I smiled at him. “You’re just going to have to make sure you get creative in finding ways to make my eyes bright again,” I winked, trying to keep my cheery fa?ade strong. Maybe if I acted it, I’d feel it.

His eyes turned dark. “You f*ckin’ bet I will, babe,” he responded in a husky voice.

My stomach dropped at the erotic promise. I smacked his shoulder. “You can’t get me all aroused before I go into the real life version of Night of the Living Dead,” I scolded him.

He smirked. “Way I see it, the only way you’ll get through that is if you’re thinking of my dick. Pick you up in an hour?”

I shook my head, feeling turned on despite myself. “I’m having coffee with a friend after. So pick me up from that fancy coffee place on Wilson Street in two hours, if that’s okay? Otherwise, I can get a cab,” I added.

Hansen’s face hardened. “You’re not getting a cab. I’ll be there. Now give me your mouth,” he instructed.

I bent down, as he was still sitting on his bike. He tagged the back of my neck and laid one on me, hot and heavy, in the middle of the parking lot.

Once he’d released me, I stood back with a dreamy look on my face.

“That’s a promise of what’s to come,” he murmured.

“That will definitely get me through The Night of the Living Dead,” I said dreamily.

His eyes softened. “Love you, babe.”

My stomach dropped like it did every time he said that. “Love you, too,” I half whispered.

He gave me one more look then took off, leaving me standing there watching his bike drive away. I took a deep breath and faced the building.





I survived the visit, with only minor internal damage from the sharp points of Grandma’s words. It helped I had some complicated and delicious coffee smothered in cream afterward. I was also distracted by seemingly insignificant problems when Robert opened up to me over said coffee. My heart had broken for him, yet he stayed reasonably strong until we walked outside onto the street, saying our goodbyes.

“I’m so sorry, Bob,” I told him sincerely. Since we’d become friends, I took to calling Robert, Bob. Mostly because no one called him that, and he smirked every time I did it. He was so not a Bob.

He squeezed me before letting me go. “Thanks, Macy,” he said, his eyes watering slightly.

Bob had told me his mother was completely gone, even the fleeting glimpses he used to get off her were snatched from the cruel disease holding her mind hostage.

“Call me if you want to talk?” I said, worried about the fact he didn’t seem to have any friends he spoke of, any other family to talk to. He was a nice guy, he deserved someone.

He gave me a sad smile. “Will do, Mace. This would’ve been a lot harder had I not had you to help me through.” He kissed me on the head lightly then turned to the parking lot.

I stood watching him for a second, then turned back to the street, about to get my phone to call Hansen. I didn’t expect to see him sitting on his bike, directly across the street. He did not look happy.

“Hey honey, sorry, I hope you haven’t been waiting long,” I said after I made it to his bike, my body relaxing in his presence.

“Who the f*ck was that?” he said in greeting, his eyes on the BMW pulling out of the parking lot.

“That’s my friend, Bob,” I said carefully, noting the anger in his voice.

He moved his eyes back to me. “You didn’t think of telling me about your friend… Bob?” he muttered.

I put my hands on my hips. “Is this because I didn’t tell you, or because Bob happens to have a penis?” I asked snippily. “I’m allowed to have male friends, Hansen.”

His jaw clenched. “Yeah babe, not too keen on you hiding them from me. Nor am I too keen on the fact he wants a taste of your *.”

Something in his words, the crassness of them maybe, or maybe it was because I was coasting on frazzled emotions, but something made me lose it.

“You think I’m going to give it to him?” I hissed. “You think once a whore always a whore?”

Hansen actually flinched and his face turned hard. “Told you not to call yourself that, Macy,” he growled, moving to get off his bike.