“You’re staring,” he notes, watching me take a bite and chewcarefully. His eyes show an authentic interest. “What’re you thinking?”
“I’m wondering who you are,” I say truthfully. “You don’t behave the way I’d expect.”
Sean ponders my question for a moment. “Then the problem is with your expectations, not how I behave.”
“So this is how it’ll be now? Like it’s normal for you to come into my house when I’m not home? For you to pick me up every day?”
Sean grins and strokes his chin. “What is normal?”
“It’s normal for me to at least know more about you. You seem to know everything about me.”
Sean stands and takes my now-empty dish from me. He sets it down and fills the sink with hot soapy water.
“You can ask me anything you want.” His face doesn’t show any hint of emotion and I can tell he doesn’t share information about himself easily as he starts to scrub the dish.
I ask the simplest thing I can think of: “What’s your last name?”
“Hunter,” he answers instantly.
“Fitting.” I smirk. “And … why do they call you Ax?”
“My middle name is Axel. There were three men named Sean in our unit. Ax was more identifiable. It stuck.”
“And you still have ties to that life? Marine friends?” I lean against the counter and fold my arms over my chest, watching as he works carefully to dry the dish, making sure to rid every drop of water from it, as if it’s his sole task.
“My club prez was a Corporal in my unit, and I’ve known him all my life. He’s as close to a brother as I can get.” Sean’s thoughts are somewhere else as he looks out my kitchen window and wrings out the dishcloth, folding it neatly before he brings his eyes to mine.
“How did you end up with the Hounds of Hell?”
I watch the muscles in Sean’s jaw tic. I’ve already noticed this happens when he’s in thinking mode. I wait as he moves back to the kitchen table and picks up his cut, putting it on before coming back toward me. I set my glass of water down, not sure what he’ll do next. I’m quickly realizing that the moment he comes too close or takes over my space in any way—hell, even the moment he looks at me a little too hard—my pulse goes into overdrive and my brain stops working properly.
Sean stands in front of me, only inches away, and he studies my face for a moment before answering. Meanwhile I’m frozen, watching his features in return, trying to understand him. Straightforward and tough on the outside, but I can already tell he’s a deep well of things the outside world doesn’t get to see.
My eyes involuntarily drift to his neck, where there’s an inked phoenix, wings spread wide over the column of his tanned throat. I breathe him in, imagining the way his skin tastes—
“Another time.” He smirks, and his voice makes me flinch. “Now go get ready. You don’t want to be late for your appointment.” Those knowing green eyes drink in my momentary desire and fill with satisfaction.
I clear my throat and push him back. His warm, hard chest tempts me to keep my hands on it rather than drop them to my sides.
“That …” I remark, pointing up at him. “You knowing my schedule better than I do—that isnotnormal.” I move past him, listening to his chuckle as I head down the hall, trying to catch my breath. I’m already in way over my head with Sean Hunter on day two of this arrangement—and even I know thatthatis not normal.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Layla
I’m making my way down the hall from the staff room at the clinic, pulling my hair up into a high ponytail as I get ready for my appointment. Reception has told me this client is new, so I have a sixty-minute slot booked for an assessment and the first treatment.
I put my phone in my cubby at the front desk. I don’t take it into sessions, and I find myself wondering what will be waiting for me when I finish. I’ll admit, life has been a hell of a lot more interesting since I met Sean. He doesn’t care what anyone thinks, or about fitting into anyone else’s version of normal. In turn, that makes me care less and less about fitting into anyone else’s mold.
I actually found it funny when a horrified Mrs. Fielding, my elderly neighbor who also happens to attend my old church, glared at me as Sean and I started off down my driveway to come to the clinic. I’ve seen her out there the last couple of days, milling about, probably wondering whose Harley is parked at my house.
Waving at her like I didn’t give a fuck felt like I was shedding one more layer of my old life. The old me would have cared what she thought. But the version of me when I’m with Sean just can’tbe bothered. He is unapologetically genuine, and that gives me a kind of confidence I’ve never had before. I actually laughed at the look of pure horror on her face when the sound of Sean’s bike almost shook all the houses on our quiet street. But I’ll need to brace myself for the questions that will come, because I can almost guarantee that when Dell next sees her at church, he will hear all about the big bad biker who was at my house.
I pick up my client’s file and knock on the door, then freeze as the name on the intake form practically jumps off the page. I push the door open to a familiar scent as the harrowing green eyes I can’t get out of my head meet my gaze.
I close the door behind me and drop the file onto my desk with a little extra force, never breaking our stare. The only sound in the room is the spa music that plays quietly on a loop.
“Anyone ever tell you you’re relentless?” I ask rhetorically.
