Crash (Evil Dead MC 2)

“Harley Davidson Dyna Super Glide Custom.”

She giggled. “Really? And is there a seat for the princess on this magnificent machine or does the prince make her ride the fender?”

“Who’s tellin’ this story, me or you?”

“Continue.”

“So the prince rode up on his awesome ride and taught the princess all about coffeemakers, and washing machines, and blowjobs-” This time Crash was quick enough to block her knee before it came up and connected. He laughed. “Okay. Story time’s over.”

“Stay with me, just until I fall asleep. Please.” She lifted up to look at him.

He hesitated, but the fragile look in her eyes pulled at him. Pulling her head gently back down to his chest, he reached over and switched the lamp off. His palm stroked over Shannon’s back. “Go to sleep, Princess. It’s late.” She settled on him, her arm tightening around his gut. Crash continued to stroke her back, until finally she drifted off to sleep.

CHAPTER SEVEN

The next morning Shannon awoke alone in bed. She stretched and then snuggled back into the covers, closing her eyes. They popped back open when she heard a rhythmic grunting sound. Rolling over she peered through the chains. Surely to God Crash wasn’t out there having sex with some biker bimbo, was he? She saw some movement on the far end of the loft, but couldn’t really see.

Sliding from the bed, she slipped the matching short silk, kimono-style robe on that she’d purchased at the mall and moved out into the main area.

Dear Lord.

Her heart almost stopped. There on the chin-up bar in the far corner opposite the pool table, was Crash, doing pull-ups. And he’d been at it a while, judging from the sheen of sweat that covered his bare chest. His muscles flexed and bulged as he pulled himself up, and then lowered himself slowly down. She moved closer. His back was to her, so he hadn’t realized she was there, watching. A few minutes later he dropped to the ground, and his back still toward her, he moved off to the punching bag. She watched as he quickly wrapped tape around his hands. Then he began beating the bag mercilessly.

As minutes passed, all she could do was stand there, mesmerized by the way his beautiful body moved. His perfectly sculpted muscles flexing with the power and force of every punch he pounded into the bag. The sheer brawn and strength as every blow landed. The energy and drive behind every strike. Finally he stopped, grabbing the bag with his wrapped hands to stop its swaying motion. He paused there, his head bent to the bag, his breathing sawing in and out. After a moment, he reached out to grab a towel and turning, began wiping the sweat off his chest, when his eyes lifted, and he stopped short seeing her standing there by the island.

She watched as his eyes swept over her. Crossing her arms in front of her, she broke the silence. “Good morning.”

“Morning.” He continued on to the refrigerator and grabbed out a bottle of water. Closing the door, and turning back to her, he nodded toward the coffee pot. “There’s fresh coffee.”

Thankful for the distraction from the awkwardness of being caught watching him, her eyes moved to the coffeemaker. “Oh, God. Caffeine. Thank you.” She quickly moved toward it and began pouring herself a cup.

A grin pulled on his mouth as he raised the water bottle to his lips and murmured, “Girl after my own heart.”

Holding the cup with two hands, and bringing it to her lips, she looked at him over the rim. When she pulled the cup down, he was still watching her. “Um. It’s good.”

“Yeah, well, I figured if I wanted a decent cup of coffee, I’d have to make it myself,” he teased. Setting down the water, he began unwrapping his hands.

Shannon frowned, nodding toward his hands. “I thought your hand was injured. Last night it looked swollen.”

He finished unwrapping it, and then held it up, flexing it. “It’s better today.”

Her eyes drifted from his large hand to his muscular forearm and up to his bulging biceps. “I see.” She realized he’d dropped his hand and was now staring at her with a half grin. It was obvious, he’d caught her eyes roving over him. He picked up the edge of the towel he’d tossed over one shoulder and wiped his face with a corner of it.

“You hungry?”

Her eyes couldn’t help but trail down his abs to below his belly button where the line of hair disappeared into his low-slung sweatpants. Swallowing, she looked away. “A little.”

He grinned. “Talkin’ about breakfast, sweet thing, but if you’re hungry for something else…”

“No, breakfast would be good,

” she quickly replied.

“Right. We’ll go get something. Let me take a shower first.” He headed toward the bathroom. Her eyes followed him, admiring the back view. Shaking herself, she hurried toward the bedroom to get herself ready.

Rummaging through her things, she pulled out a folded pair of black, low-waist trousers with a slim leg and paired it with a white button-down shirt with French cuffs in a slinky knit fabric. She’d purchased it, knowing it would pack well with minimum wrinkles. She added a chunky silver necklace and cuff bracelet that she’d seen on the mannequin with the outfit. She’d actually walked around the store with the sales clerk, pointing at outfits on mannequins that she’d liked, saying, I’ll take that and that and that. It was good being a valued, regular customer. She’d even gotten the sales woman to pack them in the rollaway bag she’d purchased.

Shannon slipped on her only other pair of shoes, a high-heeled black pump. As she ran a brush through her hair, she heard the shower turn off. Most of her things were in the bathroom with Crash, so she just had to wait until he got out to put on her makeup and finish getting ready.