Bad Boys of Romance:a Biker Anthology(10)

By: Kasey Millstead



“That would be fantastic. Thank you, so much. I really do appreciate it.”

We end the call and I let out a breath I didn’t even know I was holding. Thankfully the boys can help out, otherwise I wasn’t sure what we’d do. The tables are really heavy and I think we’d need five or six girls to carry each one. It would have taken forever. At least with the men helping, two of them would only be needed to carry each table.

“Knock, knock.” Someone taps on my closed office door, accompanying their knock with the words.

“Come in,” I call politely.

The door opens and my heart stutters. I quickly school my features and silently plead with heart to regain it’s regular beat, instead of the thumping rhythm that is currently slamming into my ribs.

“Good afternoon, Switch.” My voice is even, thankfully.

His lip twitches and his gaze roams slowly over my body, causing my blood to heat even though he’s across the room from me.

“Jenna,” he rasps. “Are you busy?”

I shake my head, despite knowing I should probably have said I was tremendously busy.

“Mind if I come in?”

“No, please, do. Take a seat.”

“You called Roam?” He asks, still standing just inside the door.

“Ah, yes, I did.”

“From now on, you need anything, you call me,” he states, cocking his eyebrow challengingly.

“Pardon?”

“Anything at all. You call me. Understand?” He walks forwards, shoves his hand in his pocket, pulls out a piece of paper and slaps it on my desk. My insides clench at the domineering tone in his voice, but as he drags his hand slowly from the table, my eyes catch sight of the thin gold band and my veins turns to ice. I know he’s married, and I know he’s working on leaving his wife, but that fucking wedding band just pisses me right the fuck off.

Why does he even wear it? Am I fool? Has he been playing me? Is this some game to him?

No! No. I know Switch and I can see the torment in his eyes. I know how hard this is on him. I just need to be patient. I promised I would wait, and it’s only been a few weeks. I need to give him time.

I clear my throat. Not wanting to be rude, because his club is a major sponsor in the fundraiser and I am at work, but really? Really?!

“Switch,” I start, my tone warning. “I don’t think it would be a good idea for me to be calling you, given our situation.” I whisper the last part like it’s some big conspiracy. Totally ridiculous, I know, but it’s not a situation I want to be known. It’s not even something I want people thinking they know about.

He gives me a look, deep and thoughtful, his eyes narrowing slightly and then he nods and turns, leaving without another word.

My breath leaves my body in a rush and my whole body seems to slump when I know he’s gone.

God, I’m fucking ridiculous.

How can one man have such an effect on my entire soul? How is it possible for him to seemingly control my body temperature with one look? This is crazy! This entire situation is fucking crazy. Perhaps, my mind is over compensating for the fact that I haven’t had much male attention lately…or ever.

Yep. That’s right; I’m your typical twenty-five year old virgin. I snort to myself. Nothing typical about my situation.

It’s not that I’m saving myself for marriage or anything remotely self-righteous like that. It just hasn’t been something that has interested me…up until Switch entered my life and all I can think about is his hands all over my body.

And that mouth.

God! That mouth.

Growing up I was focused on my schoolwork. Then, when we were eighteen, my best friend Lacey’s parents were involved in a murder-suicide and so I spent my time worrying about her, as a best friend should.

These days, I spend my weekends visiting my Gran and my weekdays busting my ass to do my best at my job. I’m somewhat of a perfectionist, though I don’t believe I let it dominate my life. I just like to excel at the things I put my mind to, and when I do something, I give it one hundred percent. A lot of the time, that means that some things get pushed wayside, and usually that thing is my social life.

Since Lacey left, I haven’t really made an effort to get out and make new friends, and growing up, Lacey was the only friend my parents really approved of. I’m not sure why, really, because she came from an abusive home. Granted, my parents didn’t know that – no one did – but for some unknown reason, they took a liking to Lacey and never denied a request for us to hang out together.

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