Strolling around the room, I looked at the pictures. All of the men gathered in their leather vests, some standing with each other with arms crossed, looking awfully gruff. Some of them stood next to their bikes. A few of the pics were taken from behind as they rode in groups. They seemed to range over a span of years based on the graininess of some of the pics and the styles of motorcycles, as well as the places in the background. The walls were like a photo album of the club through the years. No women in any of the photos, though, but outside plenty of women were around.Plenty.
I was still gazing at the photos when the door flew open so I twisted around just in time to see Rooster had been standing outside as Hawk stomped toward me, caging me against the wall. A picture fell after my head bumped it and Rooster closed the door discreetly.
“What the hell?” I asked, flattening myself against the wall.
Hawk’s lids were mere slits, making his light eyes eerie as they stared down at me. “You tell me, Katarina. What the fuck was that? Huh?” This was the most emotion I’d seen from him. Even when he cut his own hand open, he didn’t flinch.
“I don’t know what you mean.”
He banged the wall next to my head, my eyes steady on his. “Bullshit. I’ve been around women my whole life and not once have I seen someone your size lay out one of these guys.”
Stretching my neck, trying to get more on his level, I snipped at him, “I hope you don’t expect me to let just any man here put his hands on me.”
He leaned closer, and I swore he inhaled my scent before he said, “Nobody here lays a finger on you but me.”
“Except your friend, Rooster, of course,” I replied.
His jaw ticked. “You know what I mean. Don’t play dumb.”
“I’m not playing anything. I do not play,husband. While gentle, he did in fact, have his fingers, and his hands on me,” I taunted, standing on my toes now. I still was much shorter, but he was bent down to tower over me. I would match it as best as possible.
His jaw worked side to side.
“Does that bother you?” I asked with a faux pout. “That a man had his hands on me? Hmm?”
A low rumble rose from his throat. He started to bend down further, his warm scent mixed with gasoline, or maybe oil, and the faint smell of leather hit me in the face. The mix of smells and his large, intense presence did things to me I wasn’t happy about.
It took every ounce of will I had to not strip down right there and let him take me on the weathered table. The look inhis eyes had me wondering if he was thinking the same thing. They didn’t look down, but the way they scanned my face, along with his deep breathing sent heat pooling low in my belly.
Still, I kept my chin jutted out, ready for anything, good or bad.
“You want to hit me?” he asked.
Scowling, I asked, “What the fuck are you going on about?”
“Your tiny, little fists are balled.”
How did he see that? “I’ll do what I must.”
“You didn’t flinch when I pulled a knife out last night?”
“I am not afraid of you.” That declaration was true. At least last night. He wouldn’t harm me in my father’s home.
“Then why are you ready to throw hands?”
Stretching as far as I could, I gritted through my teeth, “Why do you have me pinned to the wall?”
He smirked, then pushed off the wall, putting space between us. “Please,” he said as he pulled a chair out, “take a seat.”
Sighing heavily, I sat and relaxed my fists. He stood, so I folded my hands in my lap and asked, “Does it make you feel like a big man to scare women?”
“Are you just a woman?” he asked, crossing his arms.
My brows shot up. “I can assure you, I’mallwoman. Which you would know if you’d done your husbandly duties.”Desperate much?At least it came out snarky. But fuck,why was this so hot?
He chuckled, uncrossed his arms, then leaned down, his hands on the wooden arms of the chair. Once again, he was inches from my face. “Is that what this is about? You’re mad about last night?”
“Mad?” I scoffed. “Hardly. Just an observation.”
