Beautifully Broken (Reckless Bastards MC 1)

I finished squeezing the grapefruit and turned to him, pleading with him to understand. “Yes, because of the scar. You have no idea what it means to me that you’re not bothered by it, but everyone else is. It’s easier, for me, to avoid being made a freak show whenever I leave the house.”

He said nothing for a long time and though I felt a twinge of disappointment that he hadn’t immediately jumped to tell me I wasn’t a freak show, I appreciated that he didn’t lie just to make me feel better. “People are assholes.”

I grinned and reached for the rimming salt. “Yes, they are. Now you know my secret. Teddy forces me out once a week though I’m sure she’d love to get her way more, it’s just easier this way.” And cowardly, but sometimes you just had to be a coward.

“I want to take you out again, Jana. You’re beautiful and I want to show you a good time.”

“You have been showing me the best time, Max. And I’m not just talking about in the bedroom. Or on the counter,” I grinned, suddenly distracted by all the deliciously wicked sex I’d been having with the handsome biker. “The point is, we do have a good time. I don’t need fancy restaurants and I certainly don’t need to be pointed at and whispered about.?

?

“So the assholes win?”

“No, I do. They point and stare and then they get bored, but I don’t forget their words so easily. It’s not easy to finish a meal after that.” Or sleep, or eat for the next few days. “I’m sorry that’s not what you want to hear.”

The constant chopping had stopped and he let out a long, frustrated sigh. “It’s just, hell Jana, you deserve more than this.”

“Thanks, Max. It means a lot to hear you say that.” It did. No one in my life but Teddy had ever thought I deserved anything good. Certainly not Robert Sanborn, who thought I deserved whatever he wanted to give to me, or Karen, who’s betrayal had stung even more. “Are we done with this topic?”

“For now.”

I finished making the drinks and turned, stopping dead in my tracks at the sight before me. Max stood tall and capable, his jacket gone to reveal a tight gray tee that gave his eyes a more menacing glint that I found endlessly sexy. Each time he moved his muscles bunched and flexed, back muscles popping out as he stirred vegetables, brows dipped low as he carefully seasoned two thick filets of white fish. “I’ve never watched a man cook before. It’s kind of erotic.”

He froze, just his head swiveled to meet my gaze. “Dirty hands and raw fish turn you on?”

I licked my lips. “Watching your body move while you cook is totally turning me on. Cocktail?”

He nodded, a dark sexy twinkle lit his gaze as I walked the icy drink over to him. “Dirty hands,” he said when I handed him the drink.

“Of course.” Two could play this game. I hoped. The rim of the glass touched his lips and I tilted it, my gaze focused first on that plump bottom lip as it curved under the rim of the cup, the length of his neck and the way his Adam’s apple bobbed when he swallowed, was hypnotic. I couldn’t look away. It was completely erotic.

Max gripped my wrist with his food covered hands and I slowly moved the glass from his mouth. “Jana,” he growled in a hot, dark sound that shot straight to my pussy.

“What?” I licked my lips, staring at his.

“You’re killin’ me,” he groaned and pressed me against the fridge using nothing but his body, slamming his mouth against mine, a hot, swirling whirlwind of sensations shot through me. The cool stainless steel fridge against my back, the soft, slightly salty taste of his tongue, the feel of his big hand cupping my breast and pinching my nipple. But his mouth and his tongue, were his preferred torture instruments, slicking across my tongue in a tempting tornado that had my hands shooting out to him for purchase.

His cock grew hard behind his jeans and I wanted him. Right here and now, so I jumped into his arms, growling at the feel of his big hands gripping my ass. “Max.”

His hands slid under my shirt, cool and slightly slimy from the food. “Oh, shit,” he spat out and seconds later the smoke alarm sounded. “Fuck. See how you distract me?”

I grinned. “Little ol’ me?”

He shot me a look that made us both laugh. “You should probably get changed,” he said and I glanced down, bursting out with a loud laugh at the sight of his sticky, food covered hand prints all over my shirt and jeans.

“What a handsy chef you are,” I joked.

“What a tempting treat you are,” he shot back, gaze as hot as ever.

I swallowed feeling turned on beyond reason as an idea struck. “I’m going to turn that off,” I yelled over the increasing shrill tone of the alarm before I climbed on the counter and took it off the mount. “And I’m going to go get changed. Be back in a bit.”

“Take your time,” he groused. “I have to start over.”

“We could always order in,” I offered.

“No. Go change. I’m cooking dammit.”

I grinned and made my way to the shower with a smile I couldn’t erase. Being with Max was easy. He was honest, bluntly so, which meant I didn’t have to worry about what he said. The sex was unbelievable and I’m pretty sure I was addicted to his body. To him. Which meant a quick shower only made me want another set of hands all over my body. Max’s.