Page 6 of Hero: Claimed

“Hero.” Her voice sounds whiney this morning. Did she sound so whiney last night? Probably not with my dick in her mouth. “Where’d you go?” She pats the bed. “Let Leslie make you feel good.”

Leslie?Shit, that’s not even close to Melly or Nelly. I pick her skintight tank and barely-covers-her-ass skirt up off the chest of drawers and toss them to her. “Get out.” Then I turn to Brinley. “Do me a favor. Go wait in the bathroom.”

Leslie holds her tank in her hands, not even attempting to move. “You choosing the fat chick overme?”

Brinley stops midstep. Her face pales to almost white.

I grab Leslie by the arm and tug her harshly, but not enough to hurt, and pull her from my bed, not giving her the chance to get her bearings. I shove her and her handful of clothing out my door, across the hall into a spare room. “Dress there. Don’t fucking come back.”

Then I slam my door.

At least she’s not stopped mid-step anymore, although still pale, Brinley is bent over the bed gathering the sheets from the corners.

“Brinley,” I say.

“Do you have any others?” She talks over me, holding up the sheet.

“Yeah.” I nod. “Bottom drawer.”

Without another word, she moves to pull open the bottom drawer to grab a fitted and top sheet, and two pillowcases.

“Blankets?” she asks.

“Closet.”

After securing the sheets onto the bed, she walks over to the closet and opens it. I have a clear plastic bin where I store extra blankets. They’re mismatched, but they’re warm. She opens the bin, taking the top two, shaking them out.

As she promised, she makes the bed. That’s when the prospect walks in with Brinley’s bag. He sets it on the drawer and leaves again.

“What else can I do for you?” she asks.

“Please, sit.”

“Is there a laundry here?” Again, she ignores my request.

“Stop it. Sit,now. We need to talk.” Fuck, I don’t have a read on her. Her eyes look glassy, but her face seems completely calm, like she walks in on naked bitches in bed every day. I run my hand through my hair and take a breath to think.

What do I want to say to her?

Well, it doesn’t matter what I want to say when she beats me to the punch, speaking first.

“Listen, Hero, you don’t owe me anything, okay? So long as you point me toward the washing machine.” She tries to laugh it off again. “I promise I won’t cramp your style. And I promise I won’t embarrass you. Do you know of any place hiring? I need to find a job. Get an apartment.”

“No,” I tell her honestly. “You can get a job, but youhaveto live with me.”

“Where am I supposed to go when you… you know, have your women?”

“Brin—”

“I know who I am. I know what I look like, and thatis notanybody’s old lady. Especiallynotyours. Please don’t treat me like I’m stupid. You came to my rescue today, and I owe you my life. But do not confuse me for stupid.” She runs over to the bathroom, opens the door, walks in, and slams it shut.

God dammit.

3.

Brinley

I slide down the door of the bathroom until my bottom hits the cold, tiled floor, then I take in a long, suffering breath and let it out slowly. I can deal with this. I can. Okay, so there was a slight hiccup in the plan. I thought I’d be staying with Hannah, not claimed by a… a… stunningly handsome biker with a hero complex. I get the name now, anyway.

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