Page 7 of Guarded By a Broody Biker

The rasp of a beard against my throat.

Thick fingers sliding into my panties, grazing my clit before they press deeper—

“Jem.”

“Sorry?” I blink at the man beside me, dazed. Where the hell didthatcome from?

Axel’s dark eyes glint with amusement, like he followed my whole train of thought just then and enjoyed what he saw. “I said, do you want pizza or curry? I’m buying.”

“Pizza,” I say faintly, then my manners catch up. “Please! And thank you. Um, you don’t have to pay, though—”

“Too late.” Axel unfolds from his chair like a mythical giant rising from his throne. “Don’t move, okay? I’ll come straight back. Stay right there.”

I raise my palms in surrender, because hey, my legs wouldn’t work right now anyway. “I’m staying, I’m staying.”

He’s a whole head taller than the rest of the crowd, shouldering his way easily back into the crush. There’s something hypnotic about the way Axel moves—like a panther prowling through the jungle. Graceful and predatory.

I shiver.

Other people notice it too, moving automatically out of his way, so that the crowd parts around him like a stone in the river, and soon enough, he’s out of sight.

My heart rattles against my rib cage, and I scrub both palms along my jeans. It’s new, this jittery feeling bouncing around inside me—it’s not fear, or loneliness, or existential dread. It’s…excitement.

Does Axel feel it too?

Or am I making a fool of myself?

Oh, god. What if he’s just being friendly with me? What if he’s justnice? What if Axel has people fawning over him everyday, swept up in how freaking good it feels in the safety of his presence? What if he privately rolls his eyes about it, sick of being everyone’s bodyguard crush?

I’m so busy chewing on my thumbnail, slouched and morbid in my chair, that I don’t realize I’m no longer alone. Not until Peter clears his throat, standing a foot in front of the table.

My veins frost over inside me, but I force my face to stay blank as I look up at my ex boyfriend. My tormentor; the man who broke into my apartment last night and stole my favoritephoto of my mom. The guy who’s declared himself my own personal bogeyman.

“Oh,” I say, fighting to sound bored. “It’s you.”

Peter bristles, an ugly flush climbing his throat above his shirt collar. See, he was already pissed off that I didn’t notice him lurking—that he had to clear his throat to get my attention. He doesn’t like that; doesn’t want me to forget my fear, not even for a moment. It lessens his power over me.

And Peter is all about power—but not Axel’s graceful, contained type of power. No, this asshole just wants to control people. He probably pulled the wings off butterflies as a kid.

“Who’s the guy?” Peter tugs at his shirt cuffs.“Not your usual type.”

Anger fists in my gut, and I tilt my head, holding his gaze. “You have no idea about my type, Peter. You just know it’s not you.”

And I’d never be this bold, never rile this complete psychopath like this, except I’ve seen something Peter hasn’t: a tall, bearded biker storming through the crowd toward us, wearing a scowl that promises violence.

My heart rate settles, and even when Peter’s jaw clenches with anger, I smile up at him sweetly.

“Slut,” he spits out. “To move on so fast, and to gutter trash like that. You must truly be desperate—”

A scarred hand fists in the back of Peter’s collar, lifting him clean off the ground. I watch, thrilled, as Axel shakes my stalker like a naughty kitten, ignoring the hands batting at him like he can’t feel them at all.

“Fucking terrible manners,” Axel says, and he sounds almost cheerful. Like he’s enjoying this; like he’s been waiting for an excuse to get his blood pumping all day. “I should rip your tongue out. See if you can call the lady names then.”

Peter splutters, his face bright red as he swipes blindly behind him. He’s struggling, helpless, and vicious satisfaction fills me at the sight.

“Come on, then.” Axel jiggles Peter aloft with one hand, like the weight of a grown man is no trouble at all. “You get one free warning, then you’re done. Time for the two of us to have a chat outside.”

Peter stares at me, bug-eyed and legs kicking, as the two wheel around and plunge back into the knot of market-goers. People scramble out of Axel’s way so fast, they smack into tables and bounce off walls. I watch them go in a daze, blushing when people turn back and stare at me in amazement—like they can’t believe an ordinary girl like me could cause so much trouble.

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