Spec (Hell's Handlers MC Florida Chapter 2)

“I hear that.” Brooke sighed, then gazed toward the door. “Seems quiet across the hall. You heard any movement from Scott? I’m planning to check on him next.”

Instantly, her face heated to match the temperature of the Florida sun. “Oh, um, I—”

Her bathroom door opened, and Scott strolled into the room with extra swagger in his steps. The morning orgasm seemed to have done him as well as it did her. He oozed confidence as though strutting around shirtless in the apartment of a woman he claimed to hate was an everyday occurrence.

Shit. How had she forgotten he’d shown up shirtless?

“Oh.” Brooke’s eyes widened, then narrowed. She pursed her lips. “Huh.” A sassy grin grew across her face. “Well, this is new.”

Scott folded his arms across his impressive chest as he propped his ass against the counter, looking much too comfortable in her space. Right there where he’d fucked her senseless less than ten minutes ago.

God, what she must be thinking. For weeks, they could barely stand to be in the same room, and now he was making himself at home in her apartment.

Shirtless.

Why the hell did he have to be shirtless? Olivia could barely tear her eyes away from all those delicious muscles even as her face continued to burn with embarrassment.

Scott pushed off the counter. “I should check in with Curly,” he said to a smirking Brooke.

“He called church for ten this morning. Gives you an hour or so to get dressed.”

Scott closed the distance to the table. “I’ll be there.” He plucked Olivia’s coffee mug from the table and took a sip. The tongue that had been in her mouth and on her neck only moments ago swiped across his lower lip as though grabbing an extra taste. “Mmm. Second best thing I’ve tasted this morning.”

Olivia’s mouth dropped open. He did not just say that.

A strangled sound of amusement left Brooke.

“Thanks for the coffee. Got distracted before I had a chance to drink mine.” Then he winked before sauntering toward the door. “I’ll find you later.”

Who the hell was that man, and what did he do with grumpy Scott? If it were possible for a human to burst into flames, she’d have done so right then. But from embarrassment or lust, she couldn’t say.

The second the door closed behind his very fine ass, Brooke zeroed her astonished gaze on Olivia. “Girl, you better start talking because either you and Scott had some naked fun, or I woke up in the Twilight Zone. Come to think of it, those aren’t mutually exclusive. So, spill. I need details. Like, all the details.”

Pressing her hands to her heated cheeks, Olivia shook her head. “Brooke, I have no freaking clue what the hell happened in the past twelve hours.”

“But you know you want more of it, don’t you?” She leaned forward, literally on the edge of her seat as she asked the question.

Did she want more? More of the orgasms? Sure.

More time away from Chicago? More time to think and plan her future? More time with the MC? More time with the broken man who drew her to him like the most potent drug?

None of it scared her away as all of it should.

“Shit, Brooke, I think I do want more.”

“Hell yeah, you do!” Brooke raised her hands in the air and shimmied as though someone had scored a touchdown. “I can’t tell you how nice it’s been to have another woman around here the past few weeks.”

Though she smiled, Olivia couldn’t get quite as ecstatic about the admission. Her thoughts remained with the man who’d nearly killed someone to protect her. What happened next? Retaliation? And which Scott would come back from church?

The raging former special ops soldier?

Or the hungry man couldn’t keep his hands off her?

And the question that should be at the forefront of her mind is what did she do now that Lance knew her phone number?

SCOTT FELT ON top of the world. For the first time since he’d been discharged from the army, hell, for the first time since he’d stepped foot in Afghanistan on that final deployment, the weight in his chest dwindled to an annoying press, not a crushing elephant.

He’d like to credit the sex, but it wasn’t merely fucking or getting off. When he’d first left the army, he’d made it his mission to try to heal his mind by fucking his way through the female population.

It hadn’t worked.

He might have more issues than the damn newspaper, but denial wasn’t one of them. He knew damn well this morning’s mood was courtesy of the specific woman more than the general fucking. Olivia had blown through his bullshit, seen him, and still got down on her knees.

And bent over the counter.

If he were smart, he’d walk the fuck away now before shit got even more complicated. She still had no idea how her brother died and that Scott had been the cause. When she found out, because that shit couldn’t stay buried forever, she’d likely drive one of those spikey heels she loved straight through his nuts.