Page 173 of 12 Months of Mayhem

Strong.

Gorgeous.

He catches me staring and offers a wide smile. How can such a powerful, intimidating man be so open and gentle with me? His smile says he’s the sweetest guy in the entire world, yet everything about him screams of danger and vengeance.

I miss what’s being said between him and the others; they’re moving around, shifting toward their motorcycles and talking with their backs to me. I catch parts of words, but it’s too fast, so nothing makes sense. This is one of the things I hate about being deaf the most—having to make peace with the fact that I miss a good portion of what is said around me. I have to remind myself if it’s important enough for me to know, they would get my attention and fill me in. At least Powerhouse would; there’s something about him making me not doubt his personal integrity nor the sincerity he directs toward me in each of our interactions.

“Slow night at work, they’re coming with us,” he says so I can read his lips and nods to my coworkers who are climbing on the motorcycles with the other guys.

His big paws go to my hips, and then I’m being lifted, shrieking in surprise in the process, as he picks me up without warning and places me on the huge motorcycle. He’s a massive dude, so it should come as no surprise, I suppose, that he rides a big motorcycle as well. At least it feels larger to me than what an average man would ride. I’ve never been on a motorcycle before, so what do I know?

He climbs on, twisting my way so I can see part of his face again, and signs as he says, “Hold on to me, shortcake. Tight. Never let go.” I think he means to say don’t let go, but I could be wrong.

The vibrations overtake everything as the rumble from the motorcycle physically shakes my body. It makes the inside of my nose and ears itch, and I can’t help but laugh. He revs the bike, the power radiating through my thighs, and I quickly scoot against his back, wrapping my arms around his waist. He’s trim here, especially since the rest of him is wide. His chest and shoulders easily fill a doorway, his height towers over others, and his thighs are like tree trunks, yet his waist and hips are narrow. He truly is built for power, like a fighter.

Our bodies are so close to each other I can’t help but inhale deeply, taking in his scent. He’s all man. His smell is laced with laundry detergent mixed with exhaust. There’s a hint of leather lingering from his cut, and something distinctly Powerhouse, like woodsy pheromones. All of it mixed together seems to be designed to drive me absolutely wild for him. I shouldn’t lose myself so easily over a man I barely know, but here I am. Literally smelling him as I clutch onto his bulk for dear life.

He gives my leg a quick, supportive squeeze as the bike begins to roll forward, but then it’s gone in a flash, making me instantly miss his comforting touch. I hold onto him like a lifeline, and then we’re flying down the road. Suddenly everything doesn’t seem so uncertain. Rather than worrying about anything at all, I feel free for the first time in I don’t know how long. My mind begins to clear of my too many cluttered thoughts as I take in everything around me.

The wind flying through my hair. The setting sun on my face. The Texas heat always making me feel at home.

It’s December, nearly Christmas, so it’s cooled down a lot. However, in central Texas, it’s still beautiful during most days and cold at night. I wonder if Powerhouse will keep me warm once the sun goes down completely? I sure hope so, because I want to feel him everywhere, and this ride on his motorcycle has only made the desire stronger.

Our ride is much shorter than I was anticipating as he pulls off the road, the others following closely behind. He eventually parks in front of a one-story building, with bright lights all around the parking lot. We’re losing daylight fast, but it’s dusk, and at the point where I can still easily make out smoke coming from the back somewhere.

Powerhouse lifts me off his bike, setting me in front of him again. He wears a wide—and dare I say it—proud smile. “Fun?” His brows are raised as he waits with bated breath, reminding me of a little kid eager for approval.

“I loved every minute of it. I felt free. Thank you for sharing it with me.”

His irises sparkle with my response, then he’s yanking me to him. He squeezes me tightly for a beat, peppering a kiss to the top of my head before stepping back to give me my space once more.

“What’s with the smoke?” I gesture to the roof.

“There’s a bonfire out back. The brothers will be drinking, grilling, and relaxing. They’ll be inside too, partying. You ready for this?”

I shrug. Am I ready? I’ve seen his friends before, but it was at work. I was in the zone and paid them no attention aside from what’s required of my job. They’ve all seen me naked, or close to it, and honestly, I’m not too sure what to think about it. Will they expect more from me like my regular customers would if they saw me and Powerhouse having sex? Will they be like all the others, salivating to witness me lose my clothes for a few bucks? “They’ve seen me dance,” I respond, leaving my apprehension on the table so he knows I’m not entirely sure how I feel about being in his space.

He signs without speaking this time, growing more comfortable, I suspect. “You dance like a dream. Makes my heart beat faster. They would be stupid not to notice you too. I will poke their eyes out.”

The first part melts me into a gooey mess for him, but the last part has me barking out a surprised laugh. He’s possessive with me, but in a cute, puppy-dog way, not a psycho jealous-ex way. I like it.

“I love your laugh. Your smile. You are breathtaking.”

I flash him a tender look, my heart pitter-pattering with his last confession. The fact he didn’t say it out loud but kept the words for only him and me, makes them all the more meaningful. He’s nothing like I expected him to be.

When the other dancers first told me Powerhouse was interested in me, I thought it was ridiculous, but then I noticed him always watching me. I tried to stop looking at him in return because he’s beautiful in a larger-than-life, alpha male type of way… but also in a dangerous, walking-red-flag-outlaw sense as well. His motorcycle club and the other guys he rides with are all a part of a one-percenter club. I had no idea what it meant, but with a little research, I’ve quickly learned just how dangerous they all are, so of course, I got a preconceived notion in my head before I ever said one word to him.

I thought he’d be mean. Nasty toward women weaker than him. And demanding. I was scared he’d hurt me just by me being in the same vicinity as him. I was an idiot, and soon after, everyone started talking about him more and more, it seemed. Someone was always mentioning a kind deed he was doing for them, how he’d helped them another time, or that they thought he was the best catch in the place. A real man. One they all want to fuck and tie down if given the chance. Hearing all of that only made me want to stay away more because the last thing I need is people to hate me for taking a man they want off the market.

Last week was a surprise. They’d come to me as a group, pleading their case. Telling me how amazing Powerhouse is and how they all love me. They wanted me to give him a chance because I’m the only one in the group he’d go for, and they don’t want to see a good man like him end up with the wrong woman.

In the end, I agreed to dance. One birthday dance, as a favor to them. And I ended up taking a ten- or twelve-inch dick, thinking I couldn’t go another minute without feeling him inside me. I swear I lost my mind, and here I am once more, ready to lose it all over again for the man in question.

Chapter Six

Powerhouse

Am I peacocking right now? G-damn right I am, and no matter how hard I try, I can’t stop it. My chest is puffed out as I stride with Raven at my side, feeling like eleventy-hundred-million bucks. She’s more than anything I ever imagined having on my arm, and I’m not taking a moment of it for granted.

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