AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Chapter Thirteen
Peyton
I’d searched the house from one end to the other and couldn’t find my recorder. I remembered having it at the coffee shop and placing it in my purse before we left, but now it was nowhere to be found.
Frustrated, I sat at my computer and began to type, using compiled notes from memory alone.
Although racism is commonly practiced by many similar clubs, the FFMC harbors no such beliefs, nor limits their membership by anything other than opinion. Navarro isn’t a prejudiced man, and regardless of skin color, creed, or religious belief, if a man is capable of proving his worth to the club – an eighteen-month process – he may be voted in by a unanimous decision.
Somewhat of a flirt – and by his own admission a man who doesn’t trust himself in the presence of women – Navarro’s charisma arrives minutes before he does. Be it his confident swagger, his perfectly sculpted cheek bones, or his million-dollar smile, resisting his allure is no easy task.
His only means of transportation remains a vintage Harley-Davidson FLH, void of any options available in today’s competitive motorcycle manufacturing market. While others in the club may ride custom baggers fitted with stereos, fairings, and hard saddle bags, Navarro’s personal selection must be kick-started.
I read what I had written and decided it was an acceptable place to start. Although I was initially eager to investigate and write the piece on Navarro’s club, now that I had an opportunity to spend time with him, doing so seemed strangely out-of-place.
I highlighted everything and erased it.
Finding Nick Navarro attractive and being attracted to him were totally different. Any reasonably sane woman would find him attractive, but being attracted to him – especially after taking time to get to know him – would be foolish, or so I thought.
There was no real reason for me to be attracted to him.
But I was.
I felt my article not only needed to satisfy the expectations of my editor-in-chief, my readers, and myself, but Navarro as well. Leaving him out of the equation seemed irresponsible and insensitive.
And I was neither.
In a perfect world, I would have him sitting beside me while I wrote the article. Being certain to wear my glasses – and my shorts – I would tease him the entire time, leaving him no alternative other than to make sexual advances. Of course I would succumb to his wishes – all the while telling myself I was using him solely for my own personal satisfaction.
I was beginning to wonder if I was lying to myself.
As rough and impetuous as he was when it came to sex, I found his manner desirable in an almost infectious way. In his absence, I yearned for his forceful touch. In his presence, I anxiously waited for an opportunity to provoke him to exercise his lack of sexual control.
I recalled the exact moment his hand pressed my head into the surface of the workbench. I suspected most women would find such an act forceful and far from sensual. I, on the other hand, found it almost necessary.
At least now that I’d experienced it.
About the time I realized my daydreaming had made me horny beyond comprehension, the sound of a motorcycle’s exhaust caused me to jump from my seat. I ran to my window, pulled the blinds, and was surprised to see Navarro’s Sergeant-At-Arms pulling into the driveway of my townhome.
What the fuck?
I rushed to the door and yanked it open, fully expecting Navarro to be right behind him. After he shut of his rumbling motor, the silence that followed made my stomach curl into knots.
The look on his face confirmed my suspicion.
Something was wrong.
He removed his helmet, hung it on the handlebars, and tossed his leg over the gas tank. “Mind if I come in? We need to talk.”
My mind started to race, and my throat went tight. “Yeah, uhhm. Come in.”
* * *
We sat across from each other at my breakfast table, his face rather solemn and me on the verge of tears. I hadn’t cried since my mother passed, and I found it almost haunting that Nick Navarro’s arrest caused a baseball sized lump to rise in my throat and my eyes to well with tears.
“Do you know what the charges are?”
He nodded and cleared his throat. “They’ve charged him with everything they can. The attorney said it’s pretty common. They charge him with everything in hope of him cutting a deal--”
