Wrecked By The Bully

Book 1: 002

I try to blow off his dad-joke, but my sarcastic laugh comes out like a little girly squeak. It’s like he somehow already has a hold on me–like I no longer have control over my own body, despite the fact that he’s done nothing but look at me so far.

“Ya know, working. Getting away from things.”

He raises a curious eyebrow and tilts his head, his eyes narrow and dark like he sees right through my act. He shakes his head and makes a tsk sound with his tongue and teeth. “You don’t belong here.”

His words are a statement with no room for discussion. And I don’t know why, but they hit me like a punch to the gut. Is he challenging me? Is there something he wants me to say? To do? It sure feels like it, and for some stupid reason that I can’t quite put my finger on, I like it.

I defy his stare and meet his eyes head-on. “No? Where do I belong then?” I ask, fighting to keep my voice from quivering.

He leans in closer, merely inches away from me now, and my heart skips a beat. I’m fighting just to breathe. His muscled body is so close. His broad shoulders and dark, wavy hair. I can feel his heat, and it’s like the air around us is somehow tighter.

“You belong with a guy who knows how to treat a good girl like you,” he replies, his voice a feral growl like a lone wolf.

A comment like that should come off arrogant. Dangerous.

But it doesn’t.

It sounds like a proposition. An invitation.

My heart skips another beat, and my breath catches in my throat. I want to call him out for being a cocky asshole. Maybe even start some kind of argument that I would no doubt lose.

But I can’t.

His words hang over me with that same magnetic force I felt before when he entered the bar, and I know there’s not going to be an easy way out of this. Not anymore.

Again, I try to force out a laugh, but again it comes out a high-pitched quiver. “Sorry, but I don’t think you’re my type.”

He stares back at me for a long moment, his eyes examining every inch of my face like he’s cementing each little detail into memory. The edges of his lips twist into an amused smile that’s cocky and confident. It’s the kind of smile that makes me want to take back everything I just said.

“We’ll see about that,” he mutters, taking a short step back, just enough to give me a little space but not enough to lose the connection between us. “You know who I am?”

I shake my head nervously. “I told you, I just moved here.”

He nods, his eyes narrow. I can’t tell if he’s intrigued or annoyed by my response. “I’m the leader of the Heartless Bastards.”

The Heartless Bastards. I know who they are.

They’re a tough-as-hell biker gang in the area that’s always up to no good. I haven’t had any personal interactions with the members, but I’ve seen them around here and there. Riding in groups on their motorcycles, taking up both lanes of the road, forcing everyone to get out of their way or else. They’re a rough bunch, and this man standing before me is their leader.

He must bereallyrough.

He extends a hand to grab his drink, and his fingers graze across the back of my wrist, sending a jolt of electricity through me, from the tips of my toes to my eyelids. It’s quick but leaves me with a tingling sensation in my stomach and chest.

“What’s your name?” It’s technically a question, but he says it like a command. And there’s a tone to it as well that’s almost…possessive.

“Tammy,” I say. My voice betrays me, trembling even harder than before. I cough, pretending to clear my throat. “And yours?”

“Saxon,” he replies, like he’s letting me in on a secret just between the two of us.

Of course his name is Saxon. That’s just the kind of name that belongs on someone like him. Someone dangerous. A lone alpha. Someone used to getting whatever it is they want.

Heart racing, I step back and reach for another glass to clean. My body is burning up from the simple, brief touch of his hand against my wrist. It was like an appetizer, and as I gaze back at him, I realize he’s made me hungry.

I want more.

“I’ll see you, Tammy,” he says, his voice like velvety chocolate, dark and smooth and delicious.

Without another word, he turns, and I watch as he walks across the bar to the door. I just can’t help myself. My eyes are glued to the confident way he moves, the subtle power in his physique as though the world was made to revolve around him.

It isn’t until the door swings shut behind him and slams that I’m shaken out of my stupor and realize that I’m just standing there, frozen in place, my heart pounding heavily in my chest.