Scary Hot

I suck in a breath between my teeth. “That had to be a shocker. I’m sure she hadn’t thought past the dogs being fought.”

“No, she hadn’t. But she did say that boy looked scared, terrified even, and could tell he was there to warn them because he didn’t want the girls to get hurt. I told her his dad owns Momma’s Country and is actually a good man. But over the last couple months, he’s gotten mixed up with some bad dudes. I confessed we didn’t know exactly what was going on, but that my guess is he owes the guys money.” He takes a pull from his beer. “I ended up promising her I’d help the boy and his dad if I can. Her cousin and I are looking into what’s going on.”

“Well you know I’ve always got your back, brother. The sooner we catch these assholes, the sooner the girls can stop worrying about the dogs. Although I do like having a reason to hang around and protect Kayan all the time.” I chuckle.

Wes shakes his head with a small smile. “Never seen you like this, man. Not in all the years I’ve known you. Such a tiny thing to bring down such a big man.”

“What is it they say? Big things come in small packages? She packs quite the punch.”

“Well, from what I’ve seen, she’s a fighter. Have you told her about the kind of… stuff you’re into?” He eyes me over his beer bottle before taking a swig.

“I haven’t exactly hidden it. But I haven’t come right out and had a conversation about it either,” I tell him, and he nods.

“I can see it going one of two ways. Either it’s going to speak to that sweet, submissive side I saw in her when y’all first met that night at Momma’s Country, or her feisty side is going to come out and she’s going to make you her bitch. Hope you’ve got lots of lube, bro.” He cackles.

I join in his laughter, not hating the idea of Kayan being in control. What would it be like to let such a small morsel of a woman hold all the power over me in bed?

If what I’m feeling about her is anything to go by, it wouldn’t be so bad. Wouldn’t be so bad at all.

9

Kayan

A few days later and it’s the weekend. We’ve fallen into this surreal, happy routine, much to my surprise. I’ve held my sass in check after taco night at July’s, even after finding Z in the same spot every evening when I get home from work—sprawled on my couch and watching TV.

The first day, I asked him—nicely—“Don’t you work? How are you always here when I get home?”

“I’m a mechanic at the club’s motorcycle shop. I make my own hours, so I’m able to get here a little while before you do to make sure it’s safe for your arrival,” he replied, and I instantly melted by the front door.

We’ve entered this getting-to-know you phase, and I actually really love it. He took it to heart when we got home from July’s that night and I told him I needed to slow things down. Combined with my totally awkward rambling while we had sex that first time, when I was trying to cram information about him into my brain, all while he worked my body like he had a cheat code to all my secret buttons.

But the more I learn about him, the more I want him. To the point where I’m using my detachable showerhead—more than once—daily. His scent, his all-consuming presence, fills my little house, and I don’t hate it. Not one bit. This place is back to being my safe space, all thanks to him.

We watch movies every night, discovering The Fifth Element is both of our favorite movie of all time. We quote it to each other randomly, even through texts while we’re at work, and I giggle like a damn fool every time.

And not once has he pushed me to get physical again. I’ll lay my head in his lap while we lounge on the couch, and he plays with my hair or scratches my back, but he never so much as tries to grope me.

And. It’s. Making. Me. Crazy!

I know, I know. I’m annoying my damn self with my conflicting thoughts. I want to take things slow, loving that he’s willing to do what I wish. But at the same time, all my body wants is to wrap around him and ride him like his damn Harley he forces me on. Which I also begrudgingly enjoy.

Everything inside me that’s always been a defiant, impudent—let’s face it—asshole since I moved out of my parents’ house, where I was forced to play this annoying role of the perfect, rich princess, Z douses like he’s a freaking fire extinguisher. And at first, when I found it super aggravating, I now admittedly love it. He’s good for my blood pressure, it seems. And the more time we spend together, the calmer I feel inside my usually over-thoughtful brain.