Twisted Minds Page 5

  “Do you say anything more than “Yes, sir” and “okay?” I asked her.

  “Yes, but I was told to shut the fuck up and be the maid, so that’s what I’ve been doing.”

  I can see why that would limit her vocabulary.

  “Did my father fuck you? Did any of the other MC members fuck you? Have you been beaten or harmed in any way?”

  I was about as mean a motherfucker as you could encounter, but I didn’t believe in harming women or children unless it couldn’t be avoided.

  After my question, I saw her swallow from across the room. I was rough, harsh even, and that included the way I talked. I came across as a mean bastard and preferred it that way.

  “Your father announced that no one was to fuck the nigger. Two members tried after they got me alone, but after I threatened to tell your father, they left me alone. Other than a few grabs, shoves, and pushes, no one has beaten or harmed me.”

  My eyebrow lifted, but there was nothing more that I could think to say in such an odd situation, so I just walked away.

  Chapter 7

  Megan - Day 15

  Sweet relief filled my body when Aaron walked away. I blew out the breath I’d been holding, and air finally flooded my lungs. Aaron was one of the most intense men I’d come across in a long time.

  For as scary as Shark was, his son was much more intimidating. Shark was tall and beefy, and although he had a huge scar on his face, he wasn’t bad-looking for a man more than twice my age of twenty-four.

  Aaron, on the other hand, was muscular, and his strong medium frame belonged in a magazine. He was at least six-two or three and weighed over two hundred pounds. He was tall enough that he didn’t look bulky like The Hulk, but his muscles were defined and rippled under his clothes.

  There was no way you could not notice him. He was one of those good-looking men who’d been drenched in pure sex appeal. Not classically handsome, but attractive in an edgy and tousled kind of way. It didn’t matter what he wore—you’d only ever be interested in the man beneath the clothes. His every movement seemed measured and confident, and he had the bad-boy biker attitude to go with it.

  Unlike his father’s dark hair, Aaron’s dark-blond tresses reached his shoulders. His slightly darker brows sat above intense light blue eyes. His eyes were such a piercing shade of blue that he seemed he have the ability to hypnotize you if you stared at him too long. His kissable lips were a deep shade of pink and sat above a manly beard that was the same darker tint as his brows. The unkempt beard somehow worked in his favor and brought a spark of excitement to what otherwise might have been considered too pretty a face for a man.

  Aaron’s body was pure sin. There was no other way to describe it. I was supposed to be unpacking or cleaning, but my twisted mind wanted to linger on how unbelievably sexy the man was.

  Unlike his body, the clothes Aaron wore were ugly; well-worn dark jeans, a black biker’s vest covered with what appeared to be every club patch they’d named, and a holey black T-shirt underneath. On his feet were black combat-style boots that confirmed he had a big-ass foot—at least a size thirteen.

  My warped mind thought, You know what they say about men with big feet? Why was I this fucking crazy? The places my mind traveled to sometimes—I swore crazy was being injected into my brain with a needle.

  Despite his good looks and how pretty his blue eyes were, Aaron’s gaze was so menacing. It chilled me down to the bones. His presence unnerved me and made me feel anxious and unsure about every move I made and every word I spoke. He was one of the most intensely scary people I’d encountered in a while. So, why in the hell did it excite me?

  In the short time that I’d been in his presence, I sensed that Aaron had blood on his hands. The intensity in his eyes said so. The glass-cutting edge to his voice said so as well.

  Despite him being a redneck and a dangerous biker, Aaron had a beautiful home. When Shark drove off the main paved road and headed down a series of bumpy, tree-lined dirt roads, my heart nearly leaped from my chest, thinking he was taking me some place to kill my ass like out back.

  When he’d driven up to and walked me up to the huge log cottage, I grew more surprised than scared. When Aaron opened the door, I dropped my gaze and bit into my lip to keep my damn mouth closed.

  Like now, I stared around the spare bedroom he’d led me into that appeared to have been professionally decorated. The country theme wasn’t exactly my taste, but even I had to admit the space was beautiful and something to appreciate, especially after the room his father had given me to sleep in at the club. I may as well have spent two weeks sleeping inside the rotting carcass of an elephant.

  The queen size bed in Aaron’s spare bedroom sat against the main wall facing outside. The wall was built to look like long logs. The large mahogany wood bed was adorned with a blue and brown flannel pattern comforter and four large fluffy pillows. It sat between two large windows that presented a view of the woods through its open flannel pattern curtains that matched the comforter. One nightstand and two large dressers made of beautiful teak stood at different heights and finished filling the room.

  When I walked into the bathroom, I found the open-face wooden wardrobe stocked with fresh towels, some of which still had tags on them. There was soap in bar and liquid forms and even lotion. The amount of dust that had settled over the place indicated that Mr. Intensely Scary and Good Looking didn’t entertain often.

  I believed I was going to have a more difficult time trying to keep from staring at Aaron than I was going to have cleaning his place.

  Chapter 8

  Aaron - Day 16

  The sound of pots banging and the aroma of food told me that my guest was in the kitchen cooking. I had no idea what the hell she was cooking, but I’d be damned if it didn’t smell good as fuck. I’d fallen asleep on the couch as I did most nights, and the rousing of my guest had awakened me. The sun hung dimly in the sky, and the low hums of different insects let me know that it was early morning. My ass had passed out and slept all night.

  After I’d showed Megan to her room, I headed back to the couch. I’d intended to finish watching a basketball game I’d started, but sleep had dragged me under and kept me down.

  Not used to having another living soul roaming around in my house, I’d reached for the pistol I kept in the shoulder of my couch. Come to think of it, I may have to put away the other guns hidden throughout the house. The fact that I was still breathing validated my guest’s intentions. She’d had all night to plot and plan my murder if that was her aim.

  I forced myself to sit up so I could take a piss. As I leaned forward to stand, my guest stepped into the living room, carrying a plate piled high with food and a glass of something to drink.

  She greeted me with a forced smile as she handed over the plate that I gladly took since my fucking stomach was eating my insides alive. I was sure I was missing a small intestine.

  “Good morning, sir. Um, I meant good morning.”

  “Aaron. You can call me Aaron and thank you,” I said, annoyed that she kept calling me sir.

  She seemed surprised that I thanked her. Considering she’d been under the care of my father and the bunch of goons he was determined to raise in his image, I could understand her surprise.

  “You’re welcome,” she voiced in a low tone.

  She pointed at the glass in her hand of what I now noticed was water.

  “There was only water and beer. I brought you some water unless you’d like a beer.”

  I reached for the sweating glass of ice water, and my fingers inadvertently brushed her hand. Her skin was so damn warm and soft it didn’t even feel human. I cleared my throat and brushed away my reaction to touching her.

  “Water is fine. Did you make a list of shit you think you may need? I’ll go and pick it up later today. It doesn’t matter what you put on the list, I’ll eat just about anything.”

  That includes your pussy, if you’ll let me.

  Down, boy. My ass neede
d to get laid before my fucking balls turned three shades of blue. And little Miss Mouse was looking about as tasty as a fucking piece of freshly-baked apple pie. She was an attractive woman. I couldn’t deny that.

  She lowered her head, thankfully unaware of what I was thinking.

  “Yes, I made the list already,” she said, before turning and rushing back towards the kitchen. She seemed to be running from me like I was a fucking monster. I didn’t blame her because I was. I was a scary-looking motherfucker. I knew as much, but most women seemed to like that shit.

  After sniffing at one of my armpits, I wrinkled my nose. My ass was musty and dusty from my trip. I didn’t just smell like yesterday, I stunk like hot garbage, but a shower was going to have to wait because I intended to inhale the plate of food I’d been given.

  The fluffy scrambled eggs still had steam flowing from them, and the ham had been seared to perfection. The two fat fluffy biscuits had butter drizzling over their golden-brown tops. The first few mouthfuls caused my eyes to close with appreciation.

  “Damn, this shit is good,” I mumbled under my breath.

  Now, I understood why the MC hadn’t turned down the food she’d set in front of them the other night. She could have poisoned the whole damn upper echelon of my MC if she’d wanted to. But, that sly band of hoodlums was still very much alive.

  She’d managed to survive with them for two weeks without permanent damage, which meant that she’d earned a certain level of trust from them whether she knew it or not. Maybe she was as resourceful as my father had claimed and as crazy as I knew she must be for agreeing to do some shit like work for my MC.

  I wolfed down the huge plate of food in minutes and gulped my water while shuffling towards the kitchen. The scent of cleaning products hit my nose before I reached the door. When I swung the door open and stepped into my kitchen, my feet stalled. The scene before me made my mouth hang open. I could literally eat off the damn floor. My kitchen was cleaner than it had been the day I’d walked into the finished house three years ago.

  The sounds of shuffling and humming drew my attention, but I didn’t see my houseguest. I peeked around several corners before I walked my dishes over and sat them in the sink. When I walked past my kitchen island, I found Megan on her hands and knees. Half her body was in the kitchen pantry and the other half was bent over and sticking outside the door. Her ass was on full display, and despite the oversized clothes she wore, it was easy to see she had a nice ass.

  Leaning farther over for a better view, I discovered that she had earphones in. Although I couldn’t see the device they were attached to, the purple earphones in her ears had her head tilting left and right as she sprayed Pledge and dusted the lower shelves of my pantry.

  My fingers cupped my chin, musing over the details my father had revealed about her. He wasn’t lying about her being a worker, that’s for damn sure. I glanced around my kitchen once more. To have it looking this clean, she had to have been working since daybreak or last night after I’d passed out.

  My shoulders lifted in a quick shrug, and I smiled. Maybe this wasn’t a bad idea after all. When I turned to head back to the living room, the list of shit I’d asked her to make was sitting on the counter.

  “Well damn.”

  The woman didn’t waste time, that’s for sure. Now, I further understood why the damn clubhouse and bar appeared to have been remodeled. All they needed was a good cleaning, and based on my kitchen, the new maid didn’t mind doing a thorough job.

  * * *

  Sunday was the only day that I didn’t do a damn thing but watch sports, lounge, and drink beer. After a long hot shower, I headed back to my couch.

  It seemed like minutes, but it must have been hours. When I opened my eyes to the beautiful face staring down at me, I froze, thinking I must have been hung up in a dream.

  Brown was not a color I’d associated with pretty things, but her big eyes were the prettiest shade I’d seen in a long time. They weren’t a light brown but more like a burning orange and brown mixture that sat like big adorable perfectly placed orbs of burning light. Those lush, full lips were a brownish-pink that blended perfectly with her bronzed unblemished skin. Even her nose was cute. Her perfectly arched brows went from slightly arched to extremely when she raised her eyes or changed her facial expression. It was too late for me to pretend like I hadn’t been staring. I’d made her uneasy enough that she had dropped her gaze and halted her approach.

  Although common sense told me that most of what I’d learned or had been taught about blacks wasn’t true, I was starting to think I was about to discover that more of the shit I’d learned didn’t have an ounce of truth to it. I liked Megan’s cooking a lot, but more than that, I liked the way she looked. I was as attracted to her as I would have been to any other woman that caught my eye. I fought the effects of drowsiness and where my mind wanted to linger.

  “I brought you lunch if you’re hungry,” she said after I stopped ogling her and glanced at the plate in her hand.

  My body hadn’t woken enough for me to decide if I was hungry or not, but I wasn’t going to turn down what looked like chicken and dumplings. Breakfast and lunch on the same day! I’d hit the fucking lottery.

  There wasn’t a time in my life that I could remember getting a home-cooked breakfast and lunch in the same day. If she was going to be cooking like this, I needed to go shopping. I knew what was in my kitchen and wondered how she’d managed to scrape together two complete meals.

  “Thank you,” I told her, still staring at her. I was sure she hadn’t missed the way my lingering gaze stalked her body.

  “You’re welcome,” she said softly.

  Just as she had that morning, she hurried back to the kitchen, taking quick and quiet steps.

  With my plate balanced in my hand, I sat thinking about the curves of her body until the flavorful aroma of the food lured my thoughts away.

  I ate, enjoying every mouthwatering spoonful before I allowed my thoughts to return. If Megan’s aim was to poison me, I prayed the shit killed me fast. Why did it seem like she was running from me? Each of our encounters had been uncomfortable and brief like we were avoiding something.

  Was I scary enough to cause her to run from me? Maybe I’d been staring at her too hard. My tattoos, the long biker hair, and the beard I was thinking of chopping off—it may have been too much for someone as innocent-looking as her.

  This time, when I entered the kitchen, I spotted Megan in the pantry stacking my canned goods. The clinking of my plate and glass as I placed them in the sink had her peeking out of the doorway of the pantry. She didn’t have her music in this time. Her phone sat on the countertop. The low buzz of a familiar tune spilled out of the headphones and had me interested in what she listened to.

  Quick steps led me to the pantry where I purposely invaded her personal space by standing in the doorway. With no place to run from me this time, she didn’t have a choice but to back away from me.

  “Are you afraid of me?” I asked, realizing that my sharp tone was likely intimidating.

  She dropped her gaze as she lowered her head, but I wasn’t sure it was fear I was seeing. I’d scared many motherfuckers, and something was telling me that it wasn’t all fear I saw on Megan’s face and anxious movements.

  “Well, you don’t have to be afraid of me,” I assured her, taking a little of the bass out of my voice.

  I stepped into the pantry and invaded her space further. I liked seeing her squirm against my closeness as I continued to inch closer, keeping my gaze on hers until I had her pinned to the back wall of my pantry.

  “Humph,” she grunted when her back hit the wall.

  My anxious hands lifted, and I pressed them against the wall on each side of her head while her gaze stayed on my chest.

  “Megan, look at me,” I demanded.

  She did, and I’d be damned if she wasn’t one of the most beautiful women I’d laid eyes on. A sprinkling of cute brown freckles dotted her nose and che
eks and could only be seen this close up. The urge to kiss her sprang up in me before I could figure out where it had come from. My glare landed on her lush, tempting lips, which enticed me to lick my own.

  My head tilted downward, falling close enough to hers that I felt her warmth. My hungry lips were inches away from hers now. She kept her eyes on mine, searching for my purpose as her warm breath brushed over my face. I sensed how good it would feel to close the last few inches separating us so that I could feel her lips on mine, against mine, and between mine.

  “I’m not going to hurt you,” I said. A stray thought crossed my mind, and I was unable to keep the telling smile from twisting my lips. “I won’t unless you want me to.”

  She continued searching my eyes without responding to my comment as her breaths came in fits and starts, the only sound bouncing around the tight space of my pantry. Her presence continued to pull me in, and words I’d intended to keep in my head started pouring from my lips.

  “I don’t give two fucks about what my father said. If you ask me to or gave me permission to, I’ll fuck you any way you want.”

  Her lips parted, but she didn’t or maybe she couldn’t speak. The visible tremble of her body was turning me on so badly that a stream of blood rushed to my dick. It was as hard as the lead pipes on my chopper. My gaze swept over her lips and the quivering pulse in her neck before roving back up to her wide eyes.

  I desperately wanted to give myself over to the pull I felt towards her. As I observed her reaction to my closeness, I wasn’t altogether certain that I wasn’t the only one swimming in sexual tension. Regardless of whether the lust between us was mutual or not, I’d already decided that I wanted to fuck Megan and didn’t give a damn what my father thought about it.

  As I was about to back away from her, I spotted what she’d attempted to keep hidden from me: lust and desire. A combination of the two was shadowed by her fear. She was afraid of me. I could tell, but a part of her wanted me too. I stepped the fuck away from this woman before I ended up doing something I had no business doing. We’d barely spoken complete sentences to each other, but I couldn’t deny the unspoken chemistry swimming around us. If she’d asked me to fuck her right then, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to resist the request or my urges.