MC ROMANCE: Wanted by the Alpha Biker (Motorcycle Club Alpha Male Bad Boy Romance) (MC Romantic Suspense Contemporary New Adult Short Stories) (195 page)

Chapter 8

Stina enjoyed their light banter as they wandered back to the house she shared with Karin. It was nice to be on the arm of a true gentleman, and Mike could talk about all kinds of things and make her laugh at serious topics when their conversation got too gloomy.

Lars rarely made her giggle, and when he did, he usually turned out to be serious. He didn’t want to laugh at himself, and he hated it when others did. Mike often made jokes at his own expense and seemed to enjoy it if someone poked fun at him. The two were so different that she wasn’t sure she would ever be able to choose which one she wanted to pursue.

They were three blocks from her home when the clouds opened and dumped them with a sudden rain. Holding up her skirts, Stina bolted toward the house. Keeping pace, Mike ran at her side. By the time they reached the house minutes later, they were both drenched.

While Stina searched her wet pocket for the house key, Mike took off his jacket. Pulling the key from her pocket, she held it aloft and turned toward Mike. The white, cotton shirt clung to his body, soaked even though he’d had on a jacket. As he wrung out his jacket, she stared at him.

His biceps flexed enticingly. His shoulders were broad and muscular. His pectorals bulged with masculinity and his stomach … Oh, that stomach! Even under his shirt, she could see that his abdomen was more than flat. It was rippled unlike any man’s she’d ever seen. How could a man who worked at a desk job be so well defined?

With a shake of her head, she tore her gaze from his body before he could see her staring, put the key in the lock, and opened the door. When she turned toward him to thank him for walking her home, she noticed him staring at her chest. She glanced down, stunned to find that, in her coldness, her nipples were hard against her dress.

Oh, my God, he can see it,
she thought. But the words that came out of her mouth hadn’t even presented themselves in her head until she heard them. “You should come in and get out of those wet clothes.”

He shot his startled gaze to her face. “I should just go back to the hotel.”

“Don’t be silly,” she said, grabbing his wrist and dragging him into the house. “You’re soaked, and it will just get worse. Let’s build a fire in the fireplace and one in the stove. That should warm us up at the same time it dries our clothes.”

Although he willingly let her pull him inside, he said, “I don’t think this is a good idea, Stina.”

Noticing that no lamps were lit, Stina realized that Karin wasn’t home. “It’s just the two of us. Nobody’s going to care. There are no lamps lit, so Karin must be spending the night at the Coleman house. She does that when the weather is expected to be bad.”

“That’s another reason I don’t think this is a very good idea,” he replied, closing the door behind him.

“Would you please build at least one of the fires while I change into dry clothes? Then you can go into Karin’s room and change your clothes. For some reason, she loves sleeping in men’s nightshirts, so you might find one your size in her armoire.”

Then Stina fled into her bedroom as casually as she could. She needed to put on something dry to hide her figure from Mike. That way he might not feel uncomfortable around her.

Standing in front of the mirror, Stina unbuttoned her dress and let it drop at her feet. Then she removed her camisole and bloomers. She stood there naked for a few moments, studying her figure in the mirror. Her curves were pronounced, with a narrow waist and wide hips meant for childbearing, and her breasts were slightly large and firm. She’d always liked her figure, and her stomach seemed to have gotten flatter since she’d been working in the laundry. It was probably from all the hard work she put in there.

Unexpectedly, she wondered what Mike would do if he saw her undressed. She had to stop thinking like that! He was a gentleman and probably wouldn’t do anything untoward to her.

To get the thoughts from her mind, she dried her body, unwound the braids wrapped around her head, and released the plaits. Her hair was just as wet as the rest of her, so she tried it with a towel and brushed it out to release the tangles. Finally, she slipped into a wool robe, tied it firmly around her waist, and went into the other room.

Mike stood in front of the cast-iron stove as she exited her room. When he turned to face her, his eyes widened in surprise. Apparently, he hadn’t expected her to be wearing just a robe. It was a heavy robe, though, so she didn’t see why it would be a problem.

Then she realized that he’d removed his shirt. Both it and his jacket were draped over kitchen chairs and set in front of the fireplace to dry. Now she could see his torso. His chest had a smattering of red hair, but for the most part it was bare. His pectoral were so well defined that Stina found herself drawn to them for a moment. And his abdomen! She had never realized that a man had so many muscles to give him such a chiseled stomach.

“I’d better see if I can find one of those nightshirts you were talking about,” he said as he passed her.

“Wait!” she exclaimed, grabbing his arm just below his elbow as he went by her.

It felt so strong, so hard when she gave it a light squeeze. She was being awfully forward, but she didn’t care. She desperately wanted to feel that torso before he covered it up again.

“What is it?” he asked with a frantic tone.

“I’ve never seen a man who looks like you,” she replied, letting her gaze settle on his stomach.

“Do you like what you see?”

“Very much.”

Her fingertips slid up his arm to his shoulders. Then they meandered down his torso. Each breath he took made his chest move, and when she touched his pectorals, they jerked alive. She kept going, lower, over his rock-hard stomach, which twitched under her light touch, and onward to the waistband of his soggy denim dungarees. She glanced lower, where his maleness danced beneath his loose-fitting pants.

“That’s a dangerous game you’re playing, my dear,” he said, his voice hoarse with desire.

“You don’t like the game?” she asked as she let her gaze wander up his body until their eyes met.

Chapter 9

He grasped her shoulders tenderly. He was going to push her away. She knew it, and she hated the thought. She wanted to feel his body against hers.

“Actually,” he whispered, “I
love
the game.”

And he pulled her to him. Her arms were pinned between them, her hands resting on his collarbones. His face closed in on hers, and when his lips met hers, his kiss was soft yet passionate. She didn’t know how it could be both, but she loved the feel of it.

She melted against him, unable to resist feeling his hard body against hers. His denim-covered organ danced against her hip. At that moment, she knew she would have him that night, and she couldn’t wait to see what kind of lover he was.

His tongue taunted her lips until she opened them enough to allow him entrance only a moment later. While their tongues clashed with a heat so strong she couldn’t describe it, he slipped his hands around her and moved her backwards until her right hip bumped against the kitchen table. It scraped on the floor as it moved against their weight. Only then did Mike break the embrace.

Without a word, he lifted himself onto the table. Stina delighted in seeing his biceps tighten as he supported his weight for that moment. Then he pulled her onto his lap so both of her legs were draped over his left leg. With one arm wrapped around her legs from above and the other holding her buttocks, he nestled her against his groin, where she could feel the movement of his manhood.

Finally, he slid his fingers into her hair and his large hand caressed the back of her head, gently pushing it toward his face. Their lips met again, and she threw her arms around his neck.

At her show of acceptance, his hand entered her robe and slid across her naked breast. Despite the warmth of him, her nipple hardened on contact. Then, to Stina’s dismay, he jerked his hand from her robe and broke their kiss.

Her heart felt as though it was breaking. She didn’t want him to stop; she wanted to see this through to the end. He stared at her exposed mound and caressed it once more before he closed her robe.

“I’m very sorry, Stina,” he said. “I didn’t realize you didn’t have a nightgown on.”

“Did you hear me complain?” she asked.

“It doesn’t matter. That was our first real kiss, and I nearly took it too far.”

Between them, his organ moved against Stina’s hip.

“You want to go further, though,” she replied. “I know you do. Is it because I’m not a virgin anymore?”

Shaking his head, he wrapped his arms around her waist and laid his hands on his lap. “I had no idea, but it makes no difference to me. The timing is terrible. I should have kissed you before this. I should have let you know my intentions.”

“What are your intentions?” she asked, more for his verbalization of them than because she didn’t know what he meant.

“I intend to court you, Stina. I intend to escort you to the monthly barn dances and to visit you daily. I intend to let every man in town know that you’re taken—if you’ll let me after what just happened.”

“I’ll not only let you, I look forward to it.”

He smiled. “Thank you. Now I really should leave.”

“No, stay. It’s still raining hard. You can sleep in Karin’s room. In the morning, I’ll make you a nice, hot breakfast.”

“Will there be any hot tea?”

Stina grimaced and replied, “I’m Swedish, Mike. I don’t drink tea, but I’ll have hot coffee.”

“Coffee will do. Now as much as I hate to say this,” he announced as he pushed her off his lap. “You should get to bed, and I should get out of these wet dungarees.”

Stina glanced at his crotch, lifted one eyebrow and grinned impishly. “
Ja
?”

“And no peeking, young lady.”

Giggling, she headed off toward her bedroom. “
God natt
, Mike.”

“I’m assuming that’s Swedish for good night. Good night to you, too.”

***

Standing in the doorway of her business, Lars crossed his arms over his chest. Stina was intimidated by his action, but she wasn’t about to show him.

“What do you want, Lars?” she asked as she struggled to casually scrub the nightgown on the washboard before her.

“I saw you last night.”

“I don’t care. You haven’t told me that you want to court me, so I can be with whoever I want.”

“You let O’Riley into your house.”

“Of course, I did. He was soaked to the bone. I let him sleep in Karin’s room.” Hopefully, Lars hadn’t seen what happened between Mike and her. Hopefully, he hadn’t heard Mike’s declaration of his intentions. Trying to keep calm, she added, “You’re too
svartsjuk
.”

“Jealous?
Me
? I have no reason to be jealous of anybody. I know you want to be with me.”

Stina cringed. Lars knew the word. She’d carefully used the Swedish version of jealous, but he already knew it.

“Maybe I’ve changed my mind. Maybe you haven’t shown me enough attention to hold my interest.”

“Well, I’m
going
to show you attention if you don’t stay away from O’Riley. In fact, I’ll show
both
of you attention, and you won’t like the kind I show him.”

Stina glared over at Lars. “Are you …” She was so angry she couldn’t think of the English word. “…
hotar
him?”

“I don’t know what that word means, but I’m warning you that I won’t hesitate to
persuade
him to leave you alone.”

Words spun in her head—English, Swedish, English, Swedish. She had no idea what to say because rage consumed her. How dare he threaten Mike! That was the word.
Hotar
… threaten. Lars was
svartsjuk
, so he
hotade
Mike. No, English. Lars was jealous, so he threatened Mike. Finally, Swedish words burst forth from deep in her chest.

“
Du någonsin hotar inte
Mike
igen, eller jag ska säga sheriffen
Douglas
vad du gjorde
!”

“What the
hell
was that?” Lars demanded.

Grabbing an iron from the cold stove behind her, she hurled it across the room at him, screeching, “Get out! Get out, get out, get out!”

Lars dodged the flat iron and raced away as she listened to his footsteps on the boardwalk. Muttering to herself in Swedish, she went outside to pick up the iron. Had he not ducked, she probably would have hit him, and she wished she had. Unfortunately, her threat had fallen on deaf ears, or at least ears that hadn’t understood.
Don’t you ever threaten Mike again, or I'll tell the Sheriff Douglas what you did!
She could only hope that he would connect Mike and Douglas and understand what she meant.

She had to collect herself because Gloria would be there any minute to begin her first day. After putting the iron back on the stove, she returned to washing the nightgown. When she picked it up to remind herself where she’d ended, she noticed that she’d torn a seam.

“
Skiten
!” she exclaimed in frustration.

“That sounded bad,” a woman said as she entered the room.

Lowering the nightgown, Stina saw Gloria entering the washhouse. Her face heated in embarrassment, and she said, “It means shit in English. I’m sorry I swore in front of you. It’s not polite.”

Gloria laughed. “I’ve heard a lot worse in the saloon. May I ask what happened?”

“I tore this nightgown. I was talking to … Never mind. You don’t want to know my problems.”

“Does it have something to do with Lars Olson? I saw him stomping away from here and saw you pick up an iron on the boardwalk. I hope you gave him a piece of your mind, because I can’t stand that man.”

“I’m beginning to understand why,” Stina said. “Grab a bag of laundry from the corner, and I’ll show you what I do.”