Page 22 of Hearts Held
This woman brings out a shudder of excitement in me, a small hint of curiosity that I haven’t felt in such a long, long time.
I repeat the question. “How may I help you, Miss Brielle? I don’t have all day.” I notice her throat bob as she swallows hard. My mind trails off, wondering what that neck would taste like on my tongue.
Gracious, my mind.
She finally gains courage and speaks. “I’ve just bandaged up another boy, a boy I’ve patched upfor you. You lead them out to do your dirty work and these boys have no idea what they are getting themselves into.” She clenches her delicate fists by her sides, but continues with her false confidence.
I am bewitched by this woman. No woman other than my mother has had the gall to shout at me. I can’t stop staring at the rise and fall of her chest, wishing I could stop time and admire this beautiful creature. There is something within her. Somethingdark.
I need to know.
Purposefully I let the room become awkward, uncomfortable, my icy persona engulfing everyone’s senses.
Then I finally stand, coming to a very entertaining conclusion as to how I may dissect this creature more. “You seem tense, nurse. Why don’t you get a massage?”
“What?” The word softly falls out of her mouth—she’s flabbergasted. Biting back a smile, I wave everyone off.
Bobby leans down and whispers something in her ear. Why doeshehave theright to be that close to her?
“You’ll be getting a massage tomorrow and another one after, to relieve some of the tension from your work-life imbalance. As for the boys, they have the souls of warriors and many of them have a story, a reason, a why behind how they became one of us. Back stories no one would wish on anybody. That burn is to show others they are protected by us and to show they are a part of our family. We are loyal to them and they are loyal to us,” I calmly explain.
Bobby and the woman turn to leave, no goodbye, no chance to look at those emerald eyes once more. So I speak. “Brielle. Thank you for patching up my men. They have only positive reviews.”
She will be surprised I remembered her name. Surprised I paid attention.
Of course I did. She’s the only thing that has helped me feelalivein far too long.
Kenneth remarks, “Jesus Christ, should’ve fucking thrown an adder at Frederick and another at that annoying bitch.”
I look over at Kenneth. “Brother?”
He looks up at me and remarks, “What?”
Making my tone as deadly as the devil, I say, “Don’t ever talk about that woman like that. Ever.”
I retreat to my office to finish off some more books. My gaze seeks the window and I spy the brunette below.
Crossing to the window to lean against the pane, I proceed to fold my arms.
Bobby is speaking some nonsense to her, appearing to be convincing her to get on his motorbike.
I scoff to myself, but narrow my glance as I peer down at her facial expressions.
She’s debating some sort of offer from Bobby.
“No.” The word escapes my lips with an exhale.
I follow the movement of her delicate hands. She pulls up her skirt by the hips, then lifts her petite leg to climb behind Bobby upon his motorbike.
What.
The.
Fuck.
She is straddling his backside.
Though the movement is calm—no sexual intention behind it—it’s causing my blood to boil.
