Page 27 of The Opposite Effect

I take a step back when Clara’s white convertible flies out of the narrow alley, missing me by the skin of my teeth. Tires squeal across the asphalt, and horns honk when she merges dangerously onto the street.

Any thoughts of jumping on my bike and chasing after her fade when my eyes lock in on my pride and joy lying on its side on the asphalt partway down the alley.

“Oh, baby, what did she do to you?” I mumble to myself as I bend down to collect the broken side mirror of my custom Harley Davidson Fat Boy.

“You owe me three grand,” I declare while slapping the invoice from the panel beater who spent forty-eight hours of my weekend restoring my Harley back to her original condition onto the windscreen of Clara’s BMW.

For the past hour, I’ve been lying in wait in the parking lot of Inked for Clara to show up. For the first time in the nine weeks she’s worked here, she’s arrived only ten minutes before opening.

I was getting worried I’d finally scared her off.

“I don’t owe you shit,” Clara replies before she opens her cardoor into my hip.

“Wow, Princess knows how to cuss. Did they teach you that in princess school?” My taunting words hide the grimace crossing my face from the sting her door made to my hip.

“Uh-huh. Along with how to avoid low-life scum.” While glaring into my eyes, she curls out of her car all ladylike, her prim and proper composure not matching the malice of her words.

When she tries to sidestep me, I move into her path, foiling her quick getaway with my six-foot-two height.

Her nostrils flare as her icy eyes connect with mine. “If you don’t move, you’ll learn about another technique they taught me inprincessschool.”

“Oh, yeah, like what?” I take a step closer to her, not the slightest bit intimidated by her threat.

When she takes a retreating step, her back splays against the driver’s side door of her car. Likecarpe diem, I seize the moment by taking another step forward. The pulse in Clara’s neck thrums when my body pins her to her car. I try to ignore the way her nipples are budded and pressed against my chest, how her rich floral scent has my cock stiffening, and how I’d let her smash her BMW into my Harley again just for the chance of discovering if her lips taste as yummy as they look.

In case you didn’t realize, my endeavors of being ignorant are fruitless. My body is acutely aware of every inch of her skin flattened against mine. And from Clara’s wide-eyed and flushed expression, I’d say she’s also mindful of my body’s reaction to her closeness.

“This is workplace harassment.” The hotness of her breath tickles my lips.

“If we were inside Inked, that might be the case, but since we haven’t entered the premises yet, I’m perfectly within my rights to seek restitution for the damage you did to my property. Believe me.I checked,” I say, quoting some of the words she flung at me during our last tussle.

Everything I’m saying is a lie. I didn’t check shit.

When Clara fights my hold, I lean in even deeper, nearly crushing her tiny frame under my two hundred pounds. My movements cause my cock to brush the tempting warmth between her legs. My girth swells when a breathless moan unexpectedly topples from Clara’s O-formed mouth. Her pupils expand as she snaps her mouth shut, no doubt mortified at her body’s response to my closeness.

Fighting the desire to request the restitution I’m owed in a non-monetary value, I repeat, “You owe me three thousand dollars,” while peering into her arctic-blue eyes.

My blood heats from the cunning grin that curls onto her lips. “As I said earlier, I don’t owe you shit. Your bike was like that when I exited the parking lot.”

The throatiness of her voice makes me even harder, but even if I wanted to ignore the deceit her eyes are relaying, I can’t ignore the massive streak of vivid black satin paint—the color of my bike—on the right front fender of her car.

Noticing the direction of my gaze, Clara huffs before she struggles against my hold, fighting to get free. I hold my ground, refusing to relinquish her from my grasp.

Realizing she has no chance of fleeing from a man my size, she sighs. “It was an accident! I didn’t mean to hit your bike.” Her words come out in a hiss as she strains them through her clenched teeth.

“You didn’t mean to hit it?” I quote, moving my head into her line of sight, demanding the attention of her bouncing eyes. “You dragged it halfway down the alley.”

“It was an accident!” Her chest heaves against mine. “Because I was blinded by an image I’d give anything to forget, Iaccidentallyclipped your bike with my car. Believe me, I was just as mortified as you were.”

I don’t know if the last part of her statement is referring to the damage done to my bike or the scene she witnessed in my office. While I strive to unravel the mystery of Clara, I return her determined stare. I’ve said previously her eyes were soulless, but the small sparks of life that have grown in them the nine weeks she has worked at Inked display she’s telling the truth. So, ignoring the screaming protest of my cock, I take a step back, not only unpinning her from her car but also moving away from the warmth my cock wants to delve into.

The instant I step away, Clara runs her hands down her dress, smoothing the crinkles I caused to the material. My mind goes straight to working out a way I can get that dress creased on my bedroom floor.

What the fuck?I don’t take girls back to my place.

Correction. I don’t take bunnies back to my place. Since Clara isn’t a bunny, technically, she doesn’t count. But either way, I shouldn’t be having those types of thoughts about a member of my crew.

“What were you doing at Inked at that time of the night?” I ask, endeavoring to return my thoughts to less deviant grounds.

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