Page 12 of Tracked By Hound

“Chelsea?”

“Huh?” I clear my throat when it comes out a little raspy. “Sorry, did you say something?”

“Yes, I asked if something happened. I’ll kill him if he hurt you.”

There’s regret in his voice, and I catch the hint of fear too. Ransom, protective brother that he is, stands no chance against an entire motorcycle club. Unlike the neighborhood boys he threatened when they whistled and catcalled me, his methods would not work on Hound and the others here. “I’m fine,” I assure him through a mouthful of toothpaste. “It’s not too bad here. Besides, I get to take a break from work, and I bet it’s nice to have the place all to yourself.” I rinse my mouth before walking back to the bedroom, phone in hand. “It must be a reprieve not to have me fussing at you for making a mess.”

My attempt at humor doesn’t go unrewarded as he laughs, but I can tell his heart is not fully in it. “He hasn’t put you in some dark basement, has he?”

“No, I’ve got my own bedroom,” I say, turning to the tray and reaching out to snag an apple slice, popping it in my mouth. “I even get served breakfast in bed. Hmm, I could get used to this.”

“I’m sorry, CJ,” he says after a moment, but this time, I sense the tension and fear he was holding ease. “I never meant for any of this to happen. I should have known better than to fuck with the Rebels.”

“I’m not mad,” I say honestly, realizing with some surprise that it’s true. At least not as mad as I was when I found out who he’d stolen from. “But you have to promise me that you’ll stop stealing. I’m not a kid anymore, Ransom. I work now, and I’ll help with Nonna’s nursing bills. You have to stop bearing all the weight and live your life for once.”

“C—”

“Promise me, Ransom. That once you repay the Steel Rebels, then that is it.” The memory of my brother on his knees with a gun aimed at him is one that will be burned in my mind for eternity, and the thought of that happening again makes me sick to my stomach. The next Hound might not be as patient. “You’re done stealing after this. Promise me!”

“I’m done,” he says with a heavy sigh.

“Good, now do whatever it is you have to do, but don’t worry about me. I’m safe here. Probably safer than I would be anywhere else in the city.”

I reach for another apple slice and then another as our conversation moves to lighter topics, and when the call ends, I realize I’ve wolfed down most of the breakfast. Whoever made the egg toast is my new favorite person. I’m about to go find Hound to ask him that before I remember that I am mad at him.

I climb off the bed, shooting a text to my manager to let him know I’m dealing with a family emergency and can’t come to work, feeling a little guilty at the half truth. Minutes later, he texts back letting me know that he’s got someone to cover my shift.

With that settled, I glance at the bedroom door and debate whether I should go after man before deciding against it. I turn toward the ensuite bathroom again, the promise of a hot shower a less terrifying prospect. Something about being in his bathroom, using his soap to clean up, sends my heart racing.

It’s stupid. Foolish to find even a sliver of joy in something so small, but I can’t help myself. Everything in here smells like him, and a small smile forms on my lips when I bring his body wash to my nose before lathering it over my skin. I try not to think of last night as I shower, those rough calloused hands on my body, touching me in ways no one else ever has.

God.

The sigh slips out when my hands brush over my nipples, wishing it were his hands instead. Wanting him in here with me, loving on my body like he did last night. He’s so close too. Just a room away. Bet he’d hear me if I called out. Maybe he’d join me in the shower, slam me back against the wall and then…

“Oh God,” I sigh again, withdrawing my hands from my tits. I quickly rinse off before stepping out. I wrap a towel around my body before emerging from the bathroom, and I’m just crossing the threshold when the bedroom doors open and Hound steps in.

We both freeze. Mid-step, mid-breath.

The stillness in the room is replaced by a sudden charged tension. I’m still damp from my shower, my hair tousled, and he’s standing in the doorway, giving me a hungry look. One that reminds me of a lion bracing to attack.

And I wait for it.

Despite the weakness in my knees and the racing of my heart, I wait for him to make the move. To close the distance between us and recreate the magic of last night, but he does no such thing. To my utter surprise, he turns to look at the opposite side of the room. “Sorry,” he says, his voice tight. “I should have knocked. I’ll leave and give you some space to get dressed.”

“Space?” I scoff, stopping him before he can leave. Is he really going to ignore me? Pretend last night never happened?

My jaw clenches so tight, my teeth ache. Hurt curdles into something hot and sharp in my chest. I want to kick something, preferably the man who suddenly seems to have the restraint of a saint. If he was going to act so cold, then he never should have touched me.

How dare he make me want him—give me a taste of heaven and then deny me another slice? I could have gone my entire life never knowing what it feels like to be pulled against a strong body, touched by skilled, calloused hands, or kissed by a mouth so addictive I had dreams about it.

Now that I know how it feels, I can’t function without it—him—and he pulls away. Creates a distance between us so large, it’s practically a crater. The thought that he might not want me as desperately as I want him sends angry tears burning behind my eyes.

It’s humiliating that I would fall for the last person I should. A man who threatened my family and practically kidnapped me from my home is the one person I should steer clear of, but I desperately want him close.

And he doesn’t want me!

Chapter Six

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