Page 10 of Tracked By Hound

“I was in a similar position just a few months back,” he says, and that brings me up short. “You remember Kane, Brooke’s dad. He was the head mechanic and my mentor. Imagine what a mind fuck it was when I realized that I had feelings for his daughter.” Axel heaves a sigh, reaching for a rag to wipe the grease from his fingers. “Feelings I fought for a long time because it felt like I was taking advantage of her. I was older, more than a decade older than Brooke, and had no right wanting her. She was still grieving her father.”

Everyone remembers Kane. He was a kind man and a devoted father. Before he died, he entrusted the care of his nineteen-year-old daughter to Axel. Everyone knew how Brooke felt about Axel, and no one was surprised when the two finally got together.

“It worked out, didn’t it?”

He nods. “Yeah, but only because I let her set the pace. You ought to do the same. Back off a little and let your girl come to you,” he says, rising to his feet and clapping my shoulder. “But leaving her alone to wake up in a strange place isn’t the best way to go about it.”

Fuck, he’s right.

The thought of Chelsea waking up alone, feeling scared and uncertain in a strange room is enough to get me moving. “Thanks, man,” I say to Axel as I head out, my mind set on Chelsea. I leave and head back to the club, hurrying through the first-floor bar, making a beeline for the elevator when someone steps in front of me and blocks my path.

I try to walk around them, but they block me again, and my impatient eyes drop to a set of startling green ones. The same green eyes that I saw last evening in Saint’s office. “Jade,” I start, unsure how to proceed.

“I heard that you brought a girl home yesterday.” She beams, and I fight a groan. First Axel, now Jade. Teenage girls get a bad rap; there are no worse gossips than bikers. “You should bring her down later so the other girls can meet her.”

“Sure,” I respond, waiting patiently for her to step out of my way so I can get to Chelsea.

“Oh, come with me to the kitchen. Ingrid and I are on breakfast duty this morning. We’ll fix you a tray to bring to her,” she says. I follow her into the elevator and up to the next floor where the club kitchen is. Jade rushes ahead of me toward another girl already in the kitchen. I watch the two murmur and giggle among themselves as they hurriedly prepare a tray, and it’s Jade who brings it to me. “Here, take this to her. Call us if she needs anything else.”

“Thanks,” I say, accepting the tray.

I’m still perturbed by the entire interaction as I let myself into my apartment. Unsure what to expect when I walk into the bedroom, I’m relieved when I find Chelsea still asleep. I stop by the door to watch her, my heart racing as I stare at her. A part of me can’t believe that someone so perfect would want to be anywhere near a brute like me.

These hands have fought and killed… No, she would never let them touch her unless she was too tired to remember the man she was rubbing herself against.

The thought sours my mood, so I force myself to walk in, placing the breakfast tray on the bedside table. I must not be quiet enough, because she stirs, and I watch with awe as thosegolden eyes blink open. Chelsea stares at me for a beat before her eyes widen with surprise, and she quickly sits up, hair bouncing with the move. “Oh, I forgot,” she says, combing her fingers through her curls. “I…um… Good morning.”

God, I want to grab a fistful of that mussed-up hair, slam my mouth down on hers, and kiss her until she’s whimpering and we’re both gasping for air. Everything in me wants to shove off those covers and lick her from top to bottom, kiss her breasts, and feel those nipples pebble under my tongue. I want to bury my face between those thighs and lick every inch of that pussy until she’d begging me to take her.

I want her.

I’m desperate for her. So much it drives me to near insanity. A need unlike anything I’ve ever felt for anyone in my entire life. God, I would kill for a kiss from her. To feel the press of her soft lips against mine, those fingers digging into my shoulders with every wet glide of tongue.

Despite the raging need for her, it’s the memory of Axel’s words that glue me in place. I don’t want to take advantage of her, so I’ll be patient. I’ll back off and let her come to me. Even if it kills me, I’ll wait.

“Good morning,” I say, my voice gruff even to my own ears. “I brought breakfast.”

Chapter Five

Chelsea

He looks good.

Perhaps a little too good, and it’s clear he didn’t just wake up. And God, the man is so freaking handsome, it’s annoying. Somewhere in the back of my mind is a voice that begs to remind me that the man standing in front of me is a dangerous killer and practically a kidnapper, but I tune it out, choosing instead to ogle the man and take in all the rugged details of his face all at once.

His jaw is smooth and freshly shaven, and I catch the light scent of his aftershave. I blush at the memory of feeling his stubble against my jaw when he kissed me last night, and I’m a little disappointed he’s shaved it away. I flush, my ears burning with embarrassment at the memory. Christ, I have no idea what came over me last night to act the way I did, but I don’t exactly regret it. A part of me wants to do it again, and maybe this time there will be more.

Shit, I bet it’s written all over my face too.

I quickly drop my eyes from his face to his massive frame, brows furrowing when I notice for the first time that he’s fully dressed in a pair of jeans and a black shirt. “Are you going somewhere?” I ask, sitting up and causing the covers to drop from my shoulders. The strap on my nightgown slips, but I barely pay mind to it until I look up to find those steely eyes trailing over me with something hot in them. A shudder rolls down my back, my body responding furiously when he traces his eyes over the exposed skin.

There’s desire clearly written in his gaze, and…it should scare me. It should do a lot more than just scare me, but instead, it does the opposite. It sends heat licking up my body and my nipples aching. Desperate for a repeat of what played out last night, I’m about to do something dumb like invite Hound into bed when he finally speaks, his voice cutting into the tension like a knife through butter.

“I left for an hour or so,” he says, tearing his eyes away from me and turning his back as he walks toward the window. “I just got back.”

Oh.

His words cut right into my fantasy, and I try not to hide disappointment that he didn’t stay in bed with me. I try to focus on the bright side, putting on a smile as I turn to the tray of food on the bedside table. “Thank you for the breakfast. It looks delicious.”

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