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I hum as I clean away the towels from my last appointment and ready the room a little. Nothing too fancy, just start the vaporiser with a little scented oil, change the music to something less relaxing, get the massage oil warming, that sort of thing.

I’m in a suspiciously great mood according to my last client, and I couldn’t tell her that’s because I have a special guest coming in. Am I nervous to have my hands on swathes of his tanned, tattooed skin? Yes. But am I practically buzzing at the thought of attacking that one particular knot in his shoulder that’ll make him squeal like a stuck pig while I question why the hell he has his brothers all up in my business? Hell yes!

I clasp my hands together, rolling my wrists to loosen them up a little then stretching each and every finger. I’ve been doing this a long time, have strong hands, but I like to stretch and warm up between clients and this next client needs me on point.

The little bell over my door rings and I move to greet my client. “Hello, Miles.”

Mad Dog’s brows pinch a little in confusion, but that doesn't stop me noticing how his gaze darkened just a little at my use of his government name.

“Willa. How are ya, babe?”

“Oh, I’m having a great day. Follow me, we’ll get you set up.” I decide to pull back a little, using his government name not only did something to him, but the look he gave me knocked me off center just a little.

“That’s great,” Mad Dog says, looking around the store. Not in an interested in buying something way, no, more in a casing the joint type of way.

“You good?”

His gaze snaps to mine as he clears his throat. “Yeah, yeah. Just a little tight in the hammies. I think it’s pulling on my lower back a little.”

I nod, waving the way down the short hall, leading him to my therapy room.

“OK, so hammies and lower back?” He grunts, removing his cut and hanging it on the hook on the wall. “What about your shoulder?”

He lifts his arm then rolls his shoulder, “Shit, yeah, that’s a little stiff too. Although I’m old, everything is a little stiff.”

As soon as the words leave his mouth his shocked gaze meets my shocked gaze and I know both of us have the same damn dirty thought. Shit a brick, Willa, quick, get back on neutral ground!

“That’s what she said.” I blurt out before spinning to check my oil warmer.

Mad Dog’s warm laughter fills the room, and it’s nice. It also centers me a little. No more thinking of Mad Dog’s stiff bits. Nope. I have a mission to complete.

“OK, so I’ll leave you to take off your things, just pop them in the cubbies over there. We’ll start face down. I’ll be back in a moment.”

“Sure thing, babe.” His gruff voice follows me out the door and I lean on the wall, not thinking about Mad Dog stripping down in my place of work.

Turning toward the door I rest my hands on the smooth, cream wood I painted myself when I first opened Wild Remedy. Everything here, as at home, I have done myself. To make a space in the world that belongs only to me. And yet on the other side of this door is a man that made me feel things that I never thought I would ever feel again after Diesel. That’s what makes Mad Dog so dangerous. In some ways he and Diesel are cut from the same cloth. Bossy. Over-protective. Bikers. In other ways, they’re like night and day. Mad Dog would never tell me what to wear or what to do. But his brothers are watching you. The thought slams into my brain and it’s just what I need to get my head in the game. I have questions and that man is about to give me answers.

Knocking gently I wait for Mad Dog’s gruff “come in” before pushing through the door. My steps stutter a little when I get a glimpse of his large body on the table, his arms hanging loose off the sides, his wide, muscular back the perfect canvas for the large DRMC patch that covers from the base of his neck to just above the two dimples in his lower back.

Jesus hell. I check for drool and then remember that I’ve seen him shirtless before. Pull yourself together, Willa! You’ve seen hot men before. I pep talk myself and I have no idea if it’s working or not. Taking a deep breath I blow it out, rolling my shoulders and step up to the table. I may have no control over my hormones or vagina at the moment but dammit I’m a fucking professional so I’ll act like one.

I place my hands on his back, his warm skin smooth beneath my touch as I assess him. “Jesus, Mad Dog, you’re all messed up back here.” He grunts softly and I keep probing. “Hammies and lower back you said?”

“Yeah, ah, I think I slept wrong.”

“Oh?” I raise a brow even though he can’t see me. “You don’t think it could have been the 11 minutes of hobby horsing the other day?”

His big body jiggles on the bed as he chuckles and I get to work. Massage therapy isn’t just therapeutic for my client, but also for me. I get to bask in the stillness, connecting with another human.

“That feels real good, Willa,” Mad Dog mumbles and I lean in a little more.

Long strokes starting from the base of his back, moving up his body. It’s intimate, more intimate than what we’ve shared before. In those moments we were two lonely people looking for a release. It was a tangle of teeth and tongues, body parts slapping, sweat, moans, then goodbyes. No whispered words, no sweet nothings. This? My hands on him, caring for him, helping him, on top of what we’ve been building in recent times? Yeah, this is pretty damn intimate.

Which means I need to ruin the moment.

“So, why are your brothers spying on me?”

Mad Dog