Spec (Hell's Handlers MC Florida Chapter 2)

“Bye, Spec. I’ll probably see you tomorrow.” Brooke waved and guided Olivia toward the exit. Halfway there, Olivia glanced over her shoulder. The concern was back in her gaze, and it kicked him square in the nuts. Aside from his sister, who worried over him?

Not a goddamn soul.

And that’s how he liked it. It was much harder to disappoint people when you didn’t get close to them.

Yet despite pushing her away with every weapon he had at his disposal, Olivia still cared.

He frowned.

Why the hell did that make him feel warm inside?

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

HE’D RETURNED HOME twenty minutes ago.

And Olivia had been standing outside his door for five of those minutes. The shower ran, meaning he wouldn’t come to the door if she knocked. So why wasn’t she going back inside her little apartment?

Well, that was because he’d left the door unlocked and for four and a half of the past five minutes, she’d been alternatively talking herself into and out of barging into his apartment.

Why did she care how he was holding up? He’d made his dislike of her clear on every occasion possible—almost every time they were in the same room together. So why the hell couldn’t she leave him alone? Why did she feel this draw to him she’d never experienced with another human being?

Was it the connection to her brother?

Was it how he’d helped her out of a terrible situation tonight?

Was it the inner struggle she sensed in him? Like a wounded animal needing a safe home?

Or was it because he appealed to her physically the way no other man ever had?

It didn’t matter. She needed to walk away. Leave the man alone and worry about her own problems, which no one in the club was aware of yet.

But instead of doing all that, she grasped the doorknob and turned it, letting herself into his private space.

His studio mirrored hers, so she knew exactly where the bathroom was. As though possessed by some unknown entity, she walked straight toward the open bathroom door. He was in there. Naked. Wet.

Suffering?

Or had he written the night off as a crappy one and moved the hell on.

As she should be doing.

With each step closer to the bathroom, her heart sped and her knees shook. Her body reacted to his nearness in the most reckless ways. Beneath her T-shirt, her nipples tightened and ached. Her skin tingled like it did when she was about to be touched by someone she wanted. It’d been so long since she experienced that electric buzz of anticipation, and it had no place in that room.

Nothing of the sort would happen.

She’d poke her head in the bathroom, make sure he was okay, and be told to get the hell out.

Despite a voice in her head warning her over and over that this was a horrible idea, she kept moving toward the bathroom. With only a few more steps, she found herself staring into the steamy space.

Her breath hitched, and her sex clenched at the sight that greeted her.

Scott stood in the shower with the sliding glass door open.

Naked.

Muscular.

Tattooed.

Scarred.

So many scars. Her heart plummeted at the sight of them. What the hell had he endured? And how had he survived? No wonder he fought monsters in his head. One of which seemed to be small spaces. First, the way he reacted in the pantry, then the cell, and now he kept the shower door open despite water spraying into the bathroom.

He faced the showerhead with one arm braced against the wall and his head resting on his forearm. Water sluiced down every dip and ridge on his body, making her jealous of hydrogen and oxygen.

The man was a work of art. Sexual power and temptation celebrated in one very erotic man. His other hand played with his very stiff erection. Not jerking it but fondling his balls and teasing the tip of his dick.

Olivia’s mouth flooded with saliva, and her sex grew damp as the two orifices fought over which wanted him more.

She stood frozen, staring at him with her body rioting for fulfillment and her brain screaming at her to run.

But she’d never leave. She couldn’t. Wouldn’t. Because right alongside his sex appeal was a cloud of despair, and all she wanted was to chase it away.

“S-scott,” she whispered. Hopefully, her presence wouldn’t startle him or make him slip.

His eyes popped open, and he stared at the wall in front of him for a beat before slowly turning his head in her direction.

Olivia swallowed.

Lust blazed in his eyes, along with anger, frustration, and even resignation.

“If you’re not planning to strip down, climb in, and drop to your knees, what the fuck are you doing here?”

The question alone nearly sent her to the floor. She grabbed the countertop for support. “I-I wanted to make sure you were okay.”