Page 4 of Tracked By Hound

Despite the impatience I read in her eyes, she doesn’t say a word but instead nods and climbs onto the bike when I instruct her to. Chelsea’s hands go around my waist once she’s seated behind me, and I have to fight the urge to groan at the soft caress of her hand. Fuck, how long has it been since I’ve felt the touchof a woman? No, since I’vewantedto feel the touch of a woman. Too long it seems, seeing how my hard cock juts in my pants.

“You set?” I ask, revving the engine, and the sound seems to startle her as she jumps and her grip tightens around my middle, dropping dangerously close to my erection. It takes sheer willpower not to lean further into her touch. Annoyed with myself, I tear out of the parking space. I imagine it’s going to be the longest ride to the clubhouse, but it passes in a flash. My mind is filled with thoughts of the temptress clinging to me like a lifeline. I mourn the loss of her hands when she withdraws and climbs off my motorcycle once I’m parked in my spot.

“Can I ask now?”

“No,” I say, grabbing her bag and storming toward the elevator, using my keycard to access it. Chelsea steps beside me as I press the button for the fifth floor where my apartment is. The logical thing to do would be to take this girl straight to the club president's office and tell Saint about everything that’s happened, and yet, I choose my apartment. I don’t examine my personal feelings too deeply, unsure whether or not I am willing to face the answer that lies within.

“I don’t even know your name,” Chelsea mutters from beside me, and I know better than to turn and look at her. My brain doesn’t seem to function properly whenever I do.

“Hound,” I say after long beats of silence.

“Of course it is,” she says with a small huff.

The elevator doors silently open to reveal a long hallway with five doors facing each other. I don’t stop to question what she means by that snarky remark as I walk out and head straight for the third door to our left. I take out my keys and unlock the door before nodding for her to enter. Chelsea stares at me apprehensively for a long moment, chewing at her bottom lipand, I imagine, weighing her options, but she did come this far. “This is my place,” I say, nodding toward the apartment.

“Just you?”

“I live alone,” I answer patiently, and that seems to placate her as she takes a tentative step into the apartment. I don’t follow and instead place her bag just inside the door. “You can wait here while I—”

“What?” Her eyes turn to me, panicked as she grabs my hand. “You’re leaving me alone?”

My brows arch at her reaction, surprised that she didn’t jump at the chance for some space. “Not for long. I need to talk to someone about your presence here,” I say. “Unless you prefer to come with me to meet the president of the Steel Rebels.”

She quickly drops my hand like she’s been burned and takes a step back into the room. “I… No, I think I’m fine here, waiting for you.”

“No one but me has the key to this apartment, so you don’t need to be worried about someone else walking in.”

“Um, yeah, okay.”

She seems nervous, and its instinct that makes me step forward and grasp her chin, tilting her head up so those eyes are locked on mine. “You’re safe here. With me,” I say, pushing back my own desire. “I promise you.”

“Okay,” she whispers, the sound barely audible. My blood roars in my ears the longer I stare into that face. It’s so close to mine that it would be so easy to dip in for a kiss. God, I bet those lips taste like the sweetest honey, pillowy soft under mine.

Fuck!

I step back before I can do something crazy like kiss this girl or take her like a wild beast in doorway of my apartment. But Christ, she tempts me. Tears at my control like it’s nothing. “I’ll be back soon.”

This time, I don’t look at her as I turn around and stomp toward the elevator. I bad temperedly thumb for the ground floor where Saint’s office is located. Unlike the quiet of the residential top floors, the elevator door opens to the pure chaos that exists on the ground level. The club’s bar is on this floor, and next door is a mechanic shop, both of which are often crowded with members of the club, but tonight I’m not in the mood to socialize, so I walk right past them and head down the corridor to Saint’s office. I knock once before pushing the door open, which proves to be a huge mistake, but it’s quite on brand for me, seeing as I’ve been making a lot of those lately.

“Fuck, sorry,” I curse as I turn around, but not quick enough that I miss the woman straddling the president’s lap, or her flushed face. A few years ago, I never would have imagined Saint or any one of my brothers seriously getting themselves hooked on a woman, but in the last several months, they’ve been dropping like flies. Heck, Saint went ahead and got himself hitched. Had a wedding and everything. “I’ll come back later, Prez.”

“No, wait!” It’s the woman who speaks, and I hear the quick rustling of clothes. “It’s my fault for distracting Saint when he’s supposed to be working…and for not locking the door.”

“I don’t mind being distracted as long as it’s my wife doing it,” Saint counters, and when I turn around, I find them exchanging knowing smiles. “Why don’t you go ahead and wait for me at the bar, angel? I’m sure what Hound wants to say isn’t going to take long. Right?”

It’s a question, but I hear the command beneath it. “Sure.”

His wife, Jade, rolls her eyes, and with a last wave, walks out, closing the door softly behind her. “I just got an email from the bank,” Saint, not a man to waste time, points out the second the door closes. “The person who stole from us only repaid half the sum. Does that mean that you—”

“No,” I cut in, heaving a sigh as I lean against the door, most comfortable close to an exit. Knowing this, Saint doesn’t bother inviting me to sit. “I didn’t kill the guy.”

His eyes widen in surprise. “Interesting.”

“I’m not a complete monster, Saint.” I frown at the defensive tone I catch in my voice, and with how Saint’s brows go up, I can tell he didn’t miss it either. “He promised to pay the rest back within a month.”

“Why?”

There is a knowing look in his eyes that makes me think that he sees more than I’m saying, which pisses me off for some reason. I hate that I can’t shake the restlessness brought on by the girl holed up in my apartment. The need to get back to her is urgent, almost desperate, and it pisses me the hell off.

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