Page 6 of Guarded by Atlas (Steel Rebels MC #6)

“Right,” Chelsea responds, pulling back. “Sorry, we were so worried. He’s in his clinic downstairs; we’ll take her to see him. Thank you.”

I find myself surrounded by the women and ferried away. I try to turn around and seek him out, but barely manage a glimpse before the elevator door closes between us. And all I can think as I am dragged away is…I didn’t even catch his name.

***

Atlas.

I learn from the girls that the man who rescued me is called Atlas. At thirty-six, he is one of the oldest members of the Steel Rebels and a club enforcer. They tell me so much about the man and the club that I am certain the public doesn’t know.

Christ, I’ve been cooped up at the clubhouse for four long days because everyone is scared that my kidnappers might come after me.

Chelsea and the other girls even advised me to ask for leave from work in case those men are watching the place.

They know my face, and I saw theirs. Those monsters know that I work at the nursing home and could easily find a way to sneak in and hurt me.

It’s not exactly the most secure facility, it’s safety measures intended to keep elderly patients in rather than locking anyone out.

To be honest, I wasn’t completely opposed to the idea of staying at the clubhouse when the club’s president suggested it. But I refused to take leave from work. I want to be with my patients; I love my job and the facility residents.

The other option was to move back in with my parents for a couple of days while the Rebels search for the kidnappers, but I didn’t want my presence to endanger my parents’ lives, so I stayed here.

Since getting the all-clear from Doc—a man who looked like no doctor I’ve ever met—Chelsea and Scarlett have been on a mission to pamper me.

Which is probably part of the reason I haven’t been getting much sleep.

On the first night, I was too scared to sleep alone, and the girls kept me company for the night with gossip and stories about the MC and its men.

I turned down their company on the second and third nights, hoping the silence of the room would allow me to rest. No dice.

So here I am, sleepy wandering into the clubhouse kitchen in search of some tea to help me sleep.

“You’re up.”

I jump at the deep voice, turning around so fast I nearly fall.

“Oh, you scared me,” I heave, placing a hand on my chest, feeling the hard pounding of my heart, but…

that isn’t entirely due to being startled.

Some of it has to do with the man standing in the club’s kitchen in gray sweatpants and a dark, sleeveless shirt.

The same man whose gaze I’ve felt on me around the clubhouse over the past couple of days, but it’s the first time I’ve heard his voice since my arrival.

Every time I’ve seen him, I’ve been surrounded by people.

The clubhouse is like a hive, always buzzing.

There’s no one else around now though.

It’s just us two in the kitchen. The realization sends something swirling in my stomach. Something dangerously close to…arousal.

“It’s half an hour past midnight,” he says, leaning against the massive island, watching me. Shadows play in those green eyes, making them unreadable. “Are you okay?”

No. No, I’m not okay for several reasons, but I suppose that’s not the response he wants to hear from me, so I force a winning smile and nod.

“I’m fine,” I say. “Way better than I was when you found me.” His expression is blank, and my smile falls a little.

“Actually, I’ve been meaning to thank you for that day.

I don’t know what would have happened if you hadn’t found me.

Well, I think I have a guess what might have happened if those men had returned, but you arrived before they did, and I owe you my life—”

“Breathe, sweetheart.”

A hand clasps my jaw, and I have no idea when he moved, but the next thing I know, he’s standing in front of me… touching me.

“I’m fine,” I pant.

“You’ve been saying that for days,” he says, those green eyes making my heart flutter.

“It’s true,” I insist.

“And yet here you are, alone in the kitchen at midnight.”

I look away. “I just came to grab something to drink.”

“There’s a fully stocked fridge and pantry in the apartment they put you in,” he counters, and I almost feed him more excuses, argue his point, but I realize I don’t want to.

He’s the only one who knows the state I was in tied up in that closet.

I haven’t been able to talk about it. With him, I know I don’t have to pretend to be okay, but I can’t find the words to express my feelings, conflicted as they are. “Marie—”

“I can’t sleep,” I choke out. “I keep hearing the sound of the van door opening and shutting in my face. I see the men in my dreams whenever I do manage to fall asleep. I’m scared to take the sleeping pills if it means being trapped in nightmares.”

“Hey, it’s okay,” he rasps, pulling me into his arms and hugging me close. I bury my face in his chest and allow myself to be soothed by his scent, comforted by those strong arms. “You’re safe here.”

I sigh when Atlas rubs a hand up and down my back, dipping low and nearly touching my butt, but not quite.

A strong, sudden arousal grips me, and I burrow deeper into him, biting back a whimper when my nipples pebble painfully behind my nightgown.

I move a little, swallowing a gasp when the aching points rub against his chest.

Christ, what’s wrong with me?

This man is comforting me. I shouldn’t… No, it’s wrong to think of this moment as anything other than innocent, but my senses are sharply tuned to his warm body and that soothing scent that is unique to him, one I now associate with safety. His deep voice that silences the demons in my head.

I try to take my mind off my aching nipples and the pulsing spot between my legs. Focus on anything but these mortifying reactions of my body to a man’s touch. To his touch.

“Um…I’ve seen you around, but how come you never approached me to say anything?”

Atlas pulls back from the embrace, and I bite back a disappointed whine, doing my best to hide my beaded nipples by folding my arms over my chest.

“I didn’t want to scare you,” he says.

“Why would I be scared of you?”

“Most people are.” He chuckles at the confusion knitting my brows. “I’m a big guy with tattoos and scars on my face; it’s only natural that people would be afraid of me.”

Atlas laughs as he gestures to himself with his large, calloused hands, but despite how he looks, I don’t see violence in him.

The memory of those same hands picking me from that dirty closet floor and carrying me outside is a fond one.

I associate those huge, strong hands with safety and comfort.

The same things I felt while he was rubbing the tension from my head and neck…

Instinctively, I know those hands could bring me pleasure, could soothe this ache between my legs.

I’ve never had another man touch me, but I’m no stranger to my own body.

I can clearly imagine the ecstasy if those hands touched my breasts, pinched my nipples, and rubbed against the aching spot between my legs.

My breath grows shallow the longer I build scenarios in my head, and it’s not until Atlas lays a hand on my cheek that I realize that I zoned out. One look at those heated green eyes, and I know that I’m an open book. There’s no hiding what’s going on in my head right now.

“I…I’m not scared of you,” I pant, flustered by all these emotions.

By the way, my body heats up when he steps even closer.

For a long minute, we stand silently watching each other.

I can feel my breath backing up in my lungs with every passing second, my pulse racing.

Then he leans down, so close there’s only an inch between my lips and his, the promise of a kiss heavy in the air.

I’ve never been kissed before, but it’s not rocket science. I’m sure I can figure out how to navigate if he…only if he…

Atlas lowers his mouth down on mine, swallowing the needy whine that climbs up my throat.

Oh God.

God.

A storm of heat gathers fiercely in the pits of my stomach when his mouth moves over mine.

His mouth is soft, contrasting his rugged features, and his kiss is gentle…

seeking. His lips nibble mine, and before I know it, I’m opening up for him.

I whimper when his tongue slides over mine, his hand sliding to my nape and holding me firm as he fans the fire burning through my body with his lips.

I drown in him—his lips and that intoxicating scent that’s unique to him. My sex clenches needily when he brings his free hand between us, sliding it over my aching breasts and fondling them through my nightgown. I push into his hand, whimpering into the kiss at the heady sensation.

He seems to want this as much as I do—desperately—if the growl of pleasure escaping his throat is anything to go by. Which makes it confusing when he suddenly pulls back, his breath just as harsh as mine.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he hisses, dropping his forehead against mine. The firm grip he has on my nape stops me from pushing up for another kiss. Christ, I want to feel his mouth on mine again. I want him…more of him. “You need sleep. Rest.”

“No, I don’t,” I counter needily. I don’t want to sleep. I want him…his hands touching me and bringing me pleasure.

“You do,” he says firmly enough to cut off any protests. “Why don’t I take you back to your room?”

Hmm… Maybe I can convince him to stay a while when we get to the room, so I don’t protest when he lifts me in his arms and carries me out of the kitchen.

We head to the apartment Chelsea and Scarlett set up for me, and Atlas puts me down so I can let us in.

He follows me inside straight to my bedroom and even climbs into bed with me after kicking off his shoes.

I try to be patient as I wait.

Wait for him to kiss me and take things further. But Atlas simply wraps an arm around my waist and pulls me to his chest. “Sleep,” he orders, brushing his lips over my temple. I mumble some protests against his chest, but feel my eyes grow heavier by the second.

“I don’t want to sleep.” I want him!

Despite my protests, I find myself lulled to sleep by his warm body and soothing scent.

“I’ll keep you safe, sweetheart,” he rasps, kissing my forehead, and it’s the last thing I feel before I slide into the quiet abyss of a dreamless sleep.