I'm Only Here for the Beard (The Dixie Wardens Rejects MC #4)(41)

My heart warmed for the first time since I'd left him, I turned my phone to silent and let it drop to the floor. Then I reached over my shoulder and tugged the blanket over my hips and all the way up to my chin.

Once there, I closed my eyes and let my mind wander.

It was no surprise where it went.

That bearded man owned all of my thoughts, both waking and dreaming.





Chapter 13


I think we all want the same thing. Love. World peace. And to be fucked so hard that we can't go to work the next day.

-Naomi's secret thoughts

Naomi

I was in a dead sleep when I woke suddenly, feeling weird. Wind moving over my skin. A noise that sounded like a shoe moving over a hard surface.

I rolled onto my side, cracked my eyelids open slightly and stared at the open window in confusion.

Why was it open? I definitely didn't open it. It was far too cold out tonight for that, not to mention my mother would kill me for letting out the heat.

Oh God, I could just hear her now...

Naomi, do you pay the electric bill here? Was that a no? I'm sorry, can you speak up, I can't hear you. That sure sounded like a 'no' to me. I know you can't possibly be saying yes, since I know for certain that I've never once seen any money leave your pocket to help me pay this electric bill.

But there it was, the window that had been closed when I went to sleep stared back at me obviously flung wide open.

I sat up in bed, fear slithering down my spine, as I heard the unmistakable sound of a motorcycle starting up.

Just as suddenly, I heard the engine accelerate as it pulled away, leaving me wondering what in the hell had just happened and who had left.

My mother lived in a cul-de-sac. She had a neighbor on each side of her house, but they were both elderly, and I was pretty damn sure neither would be on a motorcycle in the middle of the night.

Mr. Worsham was an elderly man in his late nineties who could barely walk, let alone ride a motorcycle. 

Mrs. Cooper was a seventy-nine-year-old widower whose son drive her everywhere, but only during daylight hours because she was scared to go out at night.

It wasn't anyone who lived on this street. Not because anybody here disliked motorcycles, but because this was such a quiet neighborhood that if one neighbor had one, the noise from it would draw the other neighbors' attention. If one of my mother's elderly neighbors had suddenly taken up riding a motorcycle, she'd have told me about it right away. That would be big news on her street!



There were woods at our backs that ran for over seventy miles, and it was owned by a farming family who ran their cows over the land in a rotation every three months. So I knew that the sound hadn't come from that direction.

Getting up, I walked to the window and looked out, shivering slightly at the cool night breeze that rolled through the window.

As I scanned the area, I wondered if the sound had just been a figment of my imagination. However, within thirty seconds of having that thought, another set of motorcycle pipes filled the night air of my neighborhood, bringing my attention to the street right outside my house.

I frowned, looking at the single headlight drawing closer as if it were a puzzle that was too complex for my still sleepy brain to figure out.

Then the man riding the motorcycle got off, shut the bike down and stood to his full height.

I realized who it was within thirty seconds.

"What are you doing here?" I asked as the man approached the window, heart pounding. "And when are you leaving?"

Sean's lips twitched as he walked up to where I was standing, placing his large hands on either side of the window pane.

His large, bulging biceps dominated my vision, and it was extremely hard to not stare.

Even in the barely lit night, the moon in early stages of waning, I could see the play of his muscles as he did nothing but stand there.

Those rough fingers gripped onto the brick as he stared at me through the darkness.

"I'm here because you're here," he answered simply. "And I'm not leaving until you do."

I frowned.

"What'd you just do?" I asked, referring to him leaving and then coming back.

He let one of his hands up from the window and traced a large, blunt finger down the line of my jaw.

"I found out where you were, no thanks to you, and rode straight here."

I crossed my arms over my chest, trying to ignore the way that single touch made me feel.

My belly clenched, and his lips twitched.

He knew what he did to me.

I narrowed my eyes.

"I don't want you here."

He moved, pushing me forward with a large hand to my chest as he maneuvered his hulking frame through the window.

I stared at him as he towered over me at his full height, no longer separated from me by the window, and wondered what he was going to do now.

"If you don't want me here, then I'll leave."