Page 38 of Biker's Tribute: Property of Bear

“Don’t underestimate me, Ethan. That’s all.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it, doc. Now strip.”

She wrinkles her nose. “I don’t need an audience.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positively.”

“We disagree then. Because I’m certain that what you need above anything is to have a man watch you strip naked in front of him and appreciate how fucking sexy your body looks.”

Amanda’s eyes flicker with rage. Who underestimates who, now?

“I’m not a toy you can play with, Ethan. I’ll help you with the gambling situation, I’ll accept your help, but I’m not going to be your racial experiment.”

It’s hard to contain my laughter, except she looks so damn serious that I have no choice but to flatten the curve of my lips. She can’t help herself but look at me, which I understand. Unlike most bikers, I don’t overeat or over drink. Saves me more money for gambling. When I’m out in the country, I keep my body nice and muscular the way it’s meant to be by splitting logs or going for long, steep hikes up various hills and mountains.

Any form of physical activity that keeps me away from people works for me. Amanda probably only meets men who think taking a credit card out of their wallet counts as a good work out. I bet she has her own ideas for what to do with my body. And all women like a man with well-placed tattoos.

I might be a little too hairy for her tastes but… I’ve never had any complaints. The older women get, the more they like a rugged, hairy man to give them a full beastly experience in the bedroom.

* * *

Thirteen

Amanda

Admonishing him doesn't work. Ethan clearly intends to watch me shower. He leans up against a wall of the small bathroom and stares at me before I take my clothes off. No instructions necessary. My confusion and disgust with him heightens. It's in my best interests to stay neutral with Ethan and keep a clear head, but so far, this appears to be downright impossible.

I shouldn't be shy about taking my clothes off and getting in the shower. But I sense removing my clothes in front of Ethan will change our dynamic in a way I'm unprepared for. I was foolish to believe that he possessed ZERO attraction to me. He clearly experiences... something.

I can't tell if it's attraction or curiosity.

"I can help you shower if you forgot how," Ethan says, giving me a smug little smile when I glare at him. Not only will stripping change the dynamic between us, I suspect showing him my body will only add to his power here.

My efforts to regain some semblance of control by promising him help with the one thing he needs have barely worked to give me any additional real power.

Screaming for help would just call Deborah over for... nothing. And risk pissing Ethan off more.

My clothes are absolutely filthy.

"I don't have anything to change into," I warn him before lifting the edges of my shirt.

"You'll wear my clothes. Obviously."

"I'm half your size."

"No one here will judge your style choices, Amanda. Trust me."

Amanda. Not Dr. Yancey. The familiarity adds to my nervousness, though I suspect he meant for it to calm me down.

I can't drag out my pain any longer. I take my shirt off and ignore the almost-wolf-whistle Ethan suppresses. I don't even have to look at him to know that his eyes are glued to my boobs. Any woman who developed early with the double-edged sword of huge boobs has this instinctive sense for men staring at their chest.

He doesn't care if I catch him.

Worse.

"You have nice tits for a therapist."

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