Page 15 of Stalked By Axel

I suck in a sharp breath when his hand moves further up my leg, and I find my thighs parting for him. God, this is beyond inappropriate and I should stop him, not revel in the feeling. And yet, I do nothing to put an end to it, nearly whimpering when he runs his hand over my jean-clad sex. I grip the table when he presses his middle finger right over my clit, making it thrum with need.

“Hey, Brooke?”

My head whips to the left when Jade calls out to me. “Are you staying for the games after dinner?”

“Yeah. Why do you ask?”

“You missed the last cookout, and we missed you,” she says, and I try to keep my expression neutral as Axel’s teasing hand leaves my body; it’s all I can do to stop myself from pulling it back to me. “We played Pictionary, and the girls lost against the guys because we were outnumbered.”

Someone at the table snorts back a laugh, and I follow the sound to see Kyle, a familiar prospect and a bit of a protégé to Saint shake his head in amusement. “You really think you weregoing to win an artistic game with people who draw tattoos in their free time? Some of us even do it professionally.”

This seems to spark a debate, and soon, there is a heated discussion at the table with everyone arguing and cheating allegations being thrown around.

Feeling a bit of my recent rebellious streak flare to life, I decide turnabout is fair play and put my own hand to Axel’s thigh. He’s just about to take a bite of food as I do and nearly chokes on it when my hand makes contact. His reaction pulls a few glances, but the debate is too lively for anyone to really pay attention to Axel’s coughing. Everyone is oblivious to my daring hand exploring under the tablecloth.

Axel takes a drink of his beer to ease his coughing and I wait for him to bring the bottle to his lips before sliding my hand higher and cupping his growing erection. He jumps in his seat, knocking his knee against the bottom of the table, rattling plates and beer bottles as he fumbles the beer in his hand. I watch in horror as it slips from his fingers onto the table, only to tip sideways and pour right into his lap, soaking his jeans before he snatch it up.

“Shit, sorry,” I cry out, flustered when everyone’s attention turns to me. I grab a handful of napkins and pat Axel down, but it’s no use; the beer has soaked through his clothes and stained them. “Oh God. I’m so sorry.” I hadn’t meant for this to happen. I only wanted to tease him a little like he had me, not cause a scene.

“It’s fine,” he says with a wicked smile on his lips. “I’ll just go down to my room to change.”

“I’ll come with you,” I say quickly, jumping up as well, and I note a few surprised expressions at my statement. “I mean…”

“You have some on you too,” Jade points at the barely visible beer stain on my sweater. “Maybe Axel can lend you a shirt or something. You need to be in top form if we’re going to beat the boys tonight.”

“You have no chance!” Kyle calls out, and soon, everyone is back to debating who’s better at what games. I flash Jade a grateful smile when she winks at me, and barely anyone notices when Axel and I slip away.

Unlike the other senior club members, Axel doesn’t have an apartment in the clubhouse. His is a two-bedroom unit above the auto shop next door. It’s also where my father and I had lived before his death. After he passed, I couldn’t bear to stay in the same home I’d grown up in, so Axel had found me my current apartment close to campus, and he’d taken over the residence. My heart is a steady drum in my chest as we approach the building. I spot the old sign hanging over the garage door; the paint is chipped and faded, but the letters are still legible. My father made that sign years ago, and my heart swells when I realize that they’ve updated everything else but kept the sign.

My footsteps echo beneath my boots as we enter. The floor used to be covered in layers of oil and dirt, but now the concrete is clean, swept, and newly painted. It’s a strange feeling, seeing the building after a year of avoiding it. I’ve been to the club several times since my father passed, but I always avoided looking this way, scared of the memories that would pop up. Afraid that I wouldn’t be able to deal with them.

It seems I was worried about nothing. This place is Axel’s home and has his mark all over it. Still, when I look around, I’m see echoes of all those days I would sit and watch my father and Axel work on cars and motorcycles. Axel would often have his shirt off by mid-day, sweat dripping down those bulging, heavily tattooed muscles. As I got older, I found my eyes would followthe towel he used to wipe away the sweat, and I’d be left fighting the urge to run to him and lick those muscular arms.

Around the age of seventeen, I started to dream about the man. He was older than me, but that didn’t stop me from thinking of him as I explored my body beneath my sheets, alone in bed, touching myself as I thought of him. None of the boys at the school could come close to Axel.

No, this place doesn’t bring back bad memories as I’d feared. Quite the opposite.

“Let’s go upstairs so you can change. I can smell the beer on you,” I say, turning to Axel to find him staring at me. This time, it’s not with heat but concern and, I imagine, caution. I smile at him, if only to assure him that I’m fine. “Coming back here… It doesn’t hurt as much as I thought it would.”

“Are you sure?”

I nod, daring a move by sliding my hand into his. He squeezes it before leading me to the side of the building where a set of stairs lead up to the front door of the apartment. The metal railing feels cool against my palm as we walk up, and I can’t help but smile when he looks back to study my expression. “I’m fine.” I chuckle, feeling giddy for some reason.

When we reach the top, Axel reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small silver keyring with a single key attached, and I remind myself to get the man a better keychain. Something funny so he laughs and thinks of me every time he takes out his key.

The door swings open to reveal a cozy living space that has always felt like a hidden oasis above the bustling auto shop. The walls are adorned with posters of classic cars and vintage signs. A small kitchen area is to one side, complete with a fridge and retro-style stove, and I spot a cozy-looking couch facing thewindow that overlooks the street below. Axel has put his own mark on the place, and it no longer resembles my childhood home, for which I am grateful.

“Make yourself at home,” Axel says, toeing off his boots, and I follow suit. The air is filled with the subtle scent of sandalwood, and I’m about to start nosing around when Axel suddenly whips his shirt over his head and my mouth immediately goes dry. “I’ll get a fresh shirt in a moment, but there’s something we need to address first.”

He’s talking. Heck, his mouth is moving, but all I hear is white noise as I stare at his sculpted body. Axel is built like a brick house, all broad shoulders and defined muscles. My eyes trail the tapestry of ink sprawled across his chest, spotting something new from the last time I took the time I studied his body. This was a year ago when the MC hosted a day at the beach and I’d gotten an eyeful of Axel in nothing but a pair of swim trunks.

God, I sound and probably look like awestruck too, ogling his body the way I am, but I can’t help it. His skin is tanned and weathered, glistening slightly in places from beer I accidentally spilled on him. And I want to taste it—him.

Suddenly his words register, and I meet his eyes to ask, “W-what do we need to address?” Bet it tastes better on your skin.” His eyes fire up with heat, and I realize that there will be no going back to the cookout, at least not for a while.

Don’t you want to know whether he has feelings for you or not? What his plans for you are? Isn’t it easier to know now and not have the questions loom over you every time you’re together?

God, we should probably talk before I allow myself to fall into those gorgeous brown eyes. It’s so simple. To ask him whathis feelings for me are. Other than lust, of course. Does he want kids? A family with me? A home? A life?

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