Page 35 of The Biker's Brother

When Cami emerged from the steamy bathroom, she looked good enough to eat. Her cheeks were flushed and shiny and, unlike a lot of women, she looked damn good without any makeup at all. She was wearing a different pair of flannel pajama bottoms and a short-sleeved cropped tee shirt that looked soft as sin.

She smiled brightly. “All yours.”

Brandon nodded and started toward the bathroom when he realized that he couldn’t go into the bath and turn on the shower while leaving Ms. Carmichael alone in the motel room. Unguarded. He stood still for a minute tapping his fingers against his thigh.

When she noticed that he hadn’t moved, she said, “What’s wrong?”

“You’re not going to like this.”

“Well, what else is new?”

He rolled his eyes. “Everything’s relative.”

“Just put it out there.”

“I want a shower. No. Ineeda shower.”

“Yeah. I know.”

“I can’t leave you alone out here.”

She stared at Brandon with a blank look on her face for several seconds before breaking into laughter that warmed his blood like fine whiskey.

“Well, don’t be shy. I’ll watch you take a shower. A good beefcake show might be just what I need to relieve the monotony of rain pounding on metal.”

Brandon gaped. That response was the last thing he’d expected. He tried to imagine having this woman, the one he was developing a craving for, watch him take a shower.

“Just so you know. I usually shower without any clothes on.”

She looked at him like he might be slow. “Yeeeees. I suspected that.”

He thought he’d had some unusual sexual encounters, but the accursed homosexual charade was turning into a bigger calamity at every turn. If there was a way out of it, he couldn’t find it. So he decided to put on his big boy pants, or, ah, take them off, and be mature about it. After all, it wasn’t like he was ashamed of his body.

He put on the least sincere smile of his entire life and said, “Glad you’re not going to give me trouble.”

“Trouble? No indeed. I can hardly wait.” She waved toward the bath. “Let’s get to it so we can eat. Instead of dinner and a show, it will be a show then dinner.”

The way she laughed had him hating the idea of being the ‘show’. Christ. Was that what it felt like to be objectified?

He could see that she was genuinely enjoying herself and thought he might be witnessing devilish Cami.

Devilish.

Surprising.

Sexy.

Fun.

Smart.

And damaged.

She followed him into the bathroom, closed the door behind her, then closed the toilet seat, sat down and crossed her legs. There she sat swinging one leg in anticipation, smiling like the Cheshire cat.

“You’re not making this easy,” he said.

“Payback’s a bitch,” she said.