Page 11 of Tied to You
Me: I know. Work’s been full on. I’m tired. I’ll call you some other time?
Henry: Sure. But if you change your mind, call me. I’m sure my little flower could use some care and attention
For the love of God. My shoulders shudder. As sweet as Henry is, the tattoo I had of a Jasmine flower has nothing to do with him, yet everything to with my late nan. She was my rock, and they were her favourite. To be honest, he’s kind of ruining it for me.
Later that evening, I make beans on toast topped with cheese and brown sauce. I should be eating more, considering I challenged biker boy to some sort of competition, but I cant. I’ve squeezed my arse into black, hip hugging shorts with fish net tights and boots. Fortunately for me, this is a look I like.
I knew being far enough away from my family, but close enough to my friendsthat I went to Uni with, meant there would be a chance of socialising on weekends. Although, I’m not really sure who I was trying to kid when I packed. I have no intention of seeing them anymore. Plus, I’m exhausted after one day of work. My muscles hurt, my bones ache. All I want now is my bed but every inch of me thinks biker boy will put up a good fight tonight. I should have had a coffee.
I shake my head at my reflection in the mirror as I line my lips with bright red lipstick. My eyes are dark and smoky, and my dark hair has been back combed underneath to give it more volume.
Giving it a little fluff with the tips of my fingers, I hear the throaty rumble of biker boy’s Harley. I pout my lips in the mirror, seriously wishing that if I had to see anyone tonight, it was Henry and not this guy. As much as it was fun seeing him appear to hate every minute of being around me, I clearly need to get laid. Hanging out with him is only going to make that worse, and there’s only so much a woman can do with her fingers.
Deep breath.I smile to myself, wondering what my nan would say. She’d tell me to grab life by the proverbial balls and tell anyone who has a problem with that to suck it. Maybesheis where I get my fiery nature from.
Biker boy revs his engine, sending a thrill of excitement to unexpectedlywarm my stomach.
I open the door, seeing him on his phone. Checking mine, I still have two minutes until I’m supposed to be ready. What’s he being so pushy for?
He twists the throttle once more, eventually looking at the house, only to see me now standing beside him with my arms crossed. In hindsight, crossing my arms was probably a bad idea. My already pushed up tits are now bunched together, and this twat is staring right at them.
With a scoff, I click my fingers then point at my face. “Eyes up, biker boy.”
He peers over the tip of his clear specs. “I thought it was eyes on the prize.” His wink shouldn’t make my thighs clench the way they do.
“In your dreams,” I snap at him.
“Soon to be in yours too.” His eyes rove from my face, all the way to my boots before they make it back to my eyes. “Now, unclench your thighs and get on.”
If it wasn’t for the fact that my thighs are in fact still clenched together, I would probably think of a comeback. I’ve got nothing. Doing as he says, I sit as far back on the bike as I can without having to touch him.
He muses, his lips pulling up in one corner slightly. I’m not sure if I was meant to see it, but I did. And I getwhyhe did it when the wanker reaches both hands behind him, grabbing both my legs behind my knees, and yanks me forward. My front rams into his hard back, the leather making my nipples instantly hard under my bra. “What the hell!”
“Shh, Baby Doll. We need to go.” Kicking up the stand, he pushes the bike straight, holding it steady.
I have no choice but to grab onto him. I don’t want to, and the distasteful way he flicks a look to my hands suggests he doesn’t want me to either. What else am I supposed to do here if not hold onto him?
Fuck. This was a bad idea. He is my boss’ nephew. He may act like he doesn’t give a shit, but I saw the doting way Mick looked at him when he saw us standing together earlier. What if Mick thinks I’m getting distracted and sacks me before I’ve completed a full week? What if he thinks something is going on here and I’m forced to leave?
I mean, nothingisgoing on here, yet my chest heaves as I breathe him in.
Biker boy revs the engine then looks over his shoulder at me. “Side box,” he says, barely audible over the deep pops from his bike.
I dart my gaze down, looking at the box he has on one side by my foot.Looking back to him, he mouths at me to open it. I do, steadily undoing the buckle and seeing a helmet inside. It’s jet black with a skull on the front. It’s hideous.
He must sense my hate for it. He nods his chin with his own look of disgust, directing me to put it on with another rev of the engine.
Completely sidetracked by my thoughts, I hadn’t given much consideration to needing a helmet. Before I can put it on properly, his patience wears out, and he lifts his foot off the ground, twisting the throttle at the same time.
Prick.
I refuse to hold onto him the entire time we’re riding. Only when he overtakes a slow moving, family filled car and jerks the bike a little to the right, am I forced to grab a hold. I let it go as soon as I realise what I’m doing, but I lean my head and see him smile. Again.
Teaming with bikes, the place he takes me to is not too far from the farm. I already feel on edge having spent the journey here anxiously weighing up my options as to whether I let this façade continue, or stomp on it.Itis fucking ridiculous.Itis nothing. A non-situation. That’s what it is. Should be easy enough to tell him I need this job more than some—however annoying, flirtatious banter.
Standing off the bike, I look around. Whoever’s coming home must be someone special, the car park is packed.
Biker boy leads me to the entrance, and I follow him, my steps steady on the concrete. There’s a light rain starting. It’s not enough to soak us, but enough to dampen my hair just like my spirits.
