Prince Charming (Renegade Souls MC Romance Saga Book 9) Page 6

  Shame burst through her cheeks when she caught him looking at her while he waited for the teakettle to boil water.

  “I am sorry for last night.” She all but whispered, looking at his shoulder instead of his eyes. It wasn’t good enough for Tag when he rumbled. “Look at me, darlin’.” She shifted her gaze, but it still didn’t reach his eyes. He put down the coffeepot and moved to her.

  “I was out of line. For making the calls. For losing it on you.” She said. “I will not blame you for firing me. I deserve it. You’ve been so kind and…”

  “I said look at me, Marianna.” There he went again using that commanding tone and her neck sprang back to do his bidding.

  He didn’t look angry, but he wasn’t smiling either.

  “Don’t confuse my actions for that of a saint. I’m far from saintly. I like you. I wanna spend time with you, but don’t think what I do is altruistic. It’s selfish as fuck and I’m not sorry about it. We’re gonna be friends, you, and me. I’m gonna do stuff for you, and you’ll let me.”

  She digested his words with a hard swallow.

  He did smile then, and it coated his face, making her feel funny. Exposed.

  “I think you were long overdue for a good cry, yeah? I’m glad I was here.”

  “I should not have fallen asleep on you.”

  “Why not? I enjoyed it. You didn’t even snore.” And then the teasing monster added, “you wanna sleep on me again, all you gotta do is say.” He turned to finish making the coffee. His back was wider than the cabinets, and his blond hair in disarray still looked good.

  She was at a loss for what to say, yet asked. “Are you always this bossy?”

  “With you, yeah.” Unapologetic.

  Pressing a cup of coffee into her hands, she sipped on autopilot, realizing he’d made it exactly how she liked it.

  She shouldn’t enjoy the superior quality to his tone or the way his eyes flashed, daring her to disobey his word.

  She shook her head, cleared it of thoughts.

  Oh, shit. Damn. This feeling she had. What her stupid crying had unlocked.

  It was attraction.

  Jeez. She was dumb.

  Anyone could have called it.

  She was freaking crazily attracted to him.

  Eye-stalking him, she let it build in her, as her eyes roamed over the stretch of his t-shirt across a muscled back. The dexterity of his fingers gripping his own cup, resting a hip to the counter.

  He smiled and Marianna swallowed too hot coffee.

  Attraction.

  It had a damn nerve turning up now when she had no time for a man.

  And not one like Tag.

  A man who had the capabilities to smash her heart.

  “Friends.” She mumbled and found him grinning.

  She could be friends with this man. Needing a friend, desperately, in fact.

  And nothing more.

  TEN

  “Is he really a monk if he’s not silent?” - Tag

  Preacher was looking to get thumped.

  “I can hear you, fucking clowns.” He complained, as the boys cackled like a bunch of gossiping bitches.

  It was typical when they latched onto a piece of gossip.

  No doubt one of them would be on the phone tonight, passing it along to Lawless.

  “I meant you to. You gonna answer?” This from Grinder, Preacher’s second wife.

  Having sparred with Rider, the pair bumped fists.

  Tag couldn’t let loose completely, not with the prez saying his I Do’s soon. Zara would strip his skin from his bones if anything happened to Rider.

  Still feeling tense, he needed a hard-all-consuming fuck until his body drained of energy, but he’d settle for strenuous exercise to tide him over.

  Ever since he’d left Marianna’s apartment the other morning, he couldn’t get her off his mind. He hated making her cry but holding her all night—feeling how she climbed into his skin and calmed to a hiccupping whimper as sleep claimed her. He wasn’t sorry about that. He’d continued to stroke her back long after she fell asleep, touching her like a fucking creep.

  She was driving him insane.

  Sexually insane.

  There was no way a woman so closed off knew how much she affected him. Everything she did was precise and methodical. He’d love to see her lose her shit laughing.

  Now she knew his intentions.

  Jumping down from the boxing ring in the club gym, he wiped off and grabbed a shirt to go running.

  “Come on, brother. We’ve hardly seen you, and then Reaper catches you strolling out the little Russian’s apartment early the other morning.”

  “Reaper’s a fucking gossip. You’re all gossips.” He half-grinned. “The ghost doesn’t say shit for three years, and now he’s running to you all to yap about my life.”

  Like jackals, they started pestering him about Marianna. Passing him a bottle of water, Preacher’s paw landed on his shoulder. “Having an office romance, brother?”

  “Don’t work in an office, funny boy.”

  Picturing her in one of those little office skirts, tight to her thighs while she called him Sir, would do him in, so he pushed all filth from his mind. Tag was no saint, and his mind ran to perverted things most of the time. Especially when he thought about the raven-haired woman. Didn’t mean he’d try to put any of it into practice.

  “A champ protests too much,” a wide grin appeared under Preacher’s pointy beard. “Did you strike out? We’re happy to give you some tips.”

  “A few months back, you warned me against trusting her. Now you want to get me laid.” He went down to his knee to tighten the laces on his sneakers. “And I’ll be six feet under before I need romance tips from you jokers. You got your women by accident.”

  Grinder chuckled. “Still got ‘em, my brother. So what gives with the little Russian?”

  “Nothing gives. We’re friends, I think she’s lonely, she has no one.” A fact of which stuck in his throat. Save from dragging her to the club, he couldn’t force her to be social.

  “And you… Prince Charming, volunteered to be that friend?”

  “Don’t look so surprised. I’m friends with your old ladies.”

  “Yeah, because you know they’re taken.”

  “My Gia was taken, didn’t stop him making a play.” Announced a sinister voice. Tag glared at Hawk holding his sleeping kid. “Swear to Christ, you mention that shit one more time and I’ll…”

  A blond brow arched. “You’ll what?”

  Hawk’s threat made the others chuckle. They all knew not to fuck with the sociopath.

  “Just quit it, you mad fuck. I don’t want Gia.”

  Deadpanned as always, Hawk replied. “Better not.”

  Tag was never winning that one, and Hawk was likely to bring it up fifty years from now.

  “Nah, VP. Our boy here has set his sights elsewhere.” Grinder was picking out the dumbbells he wanted to use as he smirked at him. “You’re gonna break the club groupies’ hearts if you go off the market.”

  The club always got fresh women through the doors to hang out, and he’d had his fair share over the years. Most of the core patched brothers were hitched, so the groupies usually gravitated toward the prospects. It had been more than a while since Tag spent time with a woman. He was a friendly guy; they liked what they saw. But he hadn’t been into it for a bit now. His dick was a busy boy in the past, he liked sex as much as he did a medium rare steak or a six-pack of beer in front of the box.

  But all he was getting lately was a steak.

  Tag didn’t have to downplay his appeal.

  It wasn’t ego talking. Having attracted the opposite sex at a young age, he’d honed his skills ever since.

  He’d tried dating more than a year ago, didn’t last long when he discovered she had a screw loose.

  Holy fuck, that was not the last time he got laid, was it?

  He’d been so busy with club business, his fights and recovering from surger
y, he hadn’t thought about using his dick much. Then Marianna happened and…

  Crap. It was true.

  He kept that to himself before this lot fell about laughing.

  “So, gonna tell us or what?” Pushed Preacher.

  “Nothing to tell, man. Can’t make shit up to jazz up your boring married lives.” He poked with a smirk. “When I get laid, I’ll be sure to put it up on the bulletin board, let you all live vicariously through me, now you’re only getting your dick wet once a month.”

  This started them all off, save for Hawk, who didn’t share shit about his sex life.

  If something happened between him and Marianna, then he’d be the first to know, not the boys. He was oddly protective and secretive over her, not wanting to share details.

  His brothers were supportive when one claimed a woman.

  When that woman was Souls claimed and given a brother’s patch, that meant she was under club protection.

  He felt attraction, intense and burning hot, but he didn’t know if he felt the same as they did for their old ladies. If he wanted to hand over his property patch.

  It was a moot point, anyway, seeing as how Marianna wasn’t interested.

  First time in history a woman thought of him as a piece of furniture.

  “Who’s coming running with me?” He asked and watched as they all refused like pussies. He bundled into a hoodie and wool gloves to combat against the falling snow, and he set off out the back door. Running five circuits around the base of the mountain at the edge of the club before he took his tired body home.

  He showered and ate a meal. Dressed in his club insignia cut, he headed back a few hours later. Ellie was a long-time groupie, she waved to him but stayed talking with Zara. Marietta was bringing a tray of food out of the kitchen when she saw him and flashed a grin. Tight little skirt, a body-hugging shirt. She was throwing out signs she’d like to spend time with Tag.

  He answered her smile with one of his own, not really interested.

  Maybe later.

  Later came, and he left the club to go home alone.

  Not before he swung by the gym to watch Marianna dancing.

  He had it so bad. Fuck.

  Goddamn, that woman could move.

  He could only imagine, with his tongue hanging out, what she’d be like in bed.

  It was torture of the worst kind ripping his gaze away to leave her to quiet time.

  Strung tight when he swung a leg over his bike.

  This friend shit was gonna turn him into a monk.

  ELEVEN

  “Friends + attraction = not friends.” - Marianna

  When Tag said they were going to be friends, he meant it.

  One week turned into two and then three.

  Within three weeks, he’d firmly planted himself in her life.

  Bringing her coffee, stopping by her apartment every other day to hang out, grabbing her for lunch and conversations during work time.

  He was such a talker, and she secretly loved listening to him.

  She discovered he liked action and comedy movies but hated romantic anything. Making fun of her when she confessed her love of all things romance.

  Marianna, to her delight, discovered their age difference.

  “You can no longer boss me around, Tag. I’m older than you.” She informed him as he handed her a coffee after telling her she was going to spend Thanksgiving at his house.

  “It’s barely two years, darlin’, and you like me bossing you.”

  It was a bold claim, and she scoffed at his heart-stopping smile.

  Not denying it.

  Twenty-nine to her thirty-one.

  He continued to boss her gently.

  Since becoming friends, he made sure she knew she could use the office phone whenever she wanted to call home. Grateful to him, she couldn’t find the words to express that gratitude. She worked extra hard instead, making sure there was never an issue in the gym. And when she uncovered Tag’s sweet tooth, she baked cookies for him every morning.

  Because he coerced her into celebrating his Thanksgiving, she took several pies and watched him fall on them like a hungry animal. The gratitude in his smile rolled her stomach with longing.

  Days and days passed. Turning into December, she was sure this friendship thing would pass as a trend. Men throughout history were known for their tiny attention span when sex was off the table.

  Tag proved her wrong again and again.

  Most nights he was at her door with food, or they’d cook together, and then watch TV. He helped with her English and laughed at her pronunciations. She got her own back when she taught him a few Russian words.

  God, his voice.

  It was a grave mistake listening to her own language coming out of his mouth.

  Some days he came to the gym with dinged up knuckles. She knew it wasn’t from his martial arts training. Was his MC involved in dangerous activities?

  Somehow he’d sneaked beneath her defenses and made her care about him.

  Who was she kidding! He’d scaled the walls and planted his flag.

  “Earth to Marianna.” Snapping back from her thoughts, he was throwing her a toothy grin from the driver’s side of his truck. “Where were you? You didn’t hear a word I said.”

  “Sorry. What did you say?” She anxiously picked the seam of her skinny jeans.

  “I was saying you don’t have to look so nervous.”

  It was still a mystery how he’d talked her into going to the bar to meet up with his friends and their wives. Goddamn his wizarding persuasion.

  You’ll have a good time, Anna.

  No, I won’t.

  We’re going, that’s that.

  Okay, fine.

  “I think… I think.”

  “Don’t say it. It’s only for a few hours, you’ll enjoy yourself.”

  Marianna’s nervous sigh was gusty. How could she explain to him how guilty she felt?

  His eyes, steadfast as always. He wasn’t a man who flittered his gaze to look at other women. When Tag looked at her, he was looking only at her. “I should not be enjoying myself.”

  “Darlin’, explain what that means.”

  “What kind of mother am I if I am enjoying myself when I don’t have my children here with me? That should be my only focus, Tag. This was a mistake, please can we go home?”

  His sigh almost blew a breeze against the side of her face. Then his hand covered hers, squeezing gently. “You’re too fucking hard on yourself, darlin’. Tell me this, are your kids safe right now?”

  “Da. Yes. I spoke to their carer only this afternoon.”

  “And you’re doing what you can to get them here, yeah? That’s what you said.”

  “Da. Yes.”

  “Then a couple hours spent with a few people will change nothing. If your kids were here, I’d still persuade you to come out. Only then, we’d need a babysitter.”

  Logically, she knew he was right. But it didn’t prevent the gnaw of guilt when they climbed out of the truck and walked into the lively bar. Tag placed his hand on the base of her back where her skin tingled. The table of friends was staring over. Heat hit her cheeks.

  “They are going to think we are together.” She whispered.

  With his height, he had to drop his head to reply against her ear.

  Amusement laced his deep voice. “Let them think what they want, darlin’. We know you can’t stand looking at my handsome as fuck face.”

  She snorted, and he grinned at her.

  Every woman in the bar noticed Tag. It was like watching whiplash happen as they strained to see him striding by.

  A deep feeling of attachment awakened in Marianna, and she nearly placed a hand on his leather jacket to let them know he was her friend, not theirs.

  It’s none of your business, Marianna.

  A single biker could date anyone he wanted.

  Having learned the details about his family and his role within the MC, she’d become fascinated, pumping h
im with questions.

  The one subject neither had broached was their dating lives, past and present.

  Acknowledging he had women in his bed wasn’t something she wanted to face.

  The hand on her back rubbed gently, heat shooting through her limbs, making her feel weak and girlie. “If you wanna leave, tell me, okay? And we’ll go.”

  “You don’t have to.”

  “Marianna.” He warned. She huffed; he used that tone on her often to get his own way. She knew why she allowed it… you like it, that’s why.

  She was nervous and stepped closer to him when all eyes turned their way.

  There were ten people at the table, looking at her.

  “Marianna, meet Snake, his wife Winter. Reaper and Paige, she owns the bakery shop you like. That’s Judge and Angela, Preacher and his second wife Grinder. These ladies are Ruby and Luxe who claim those two knuckleheads. You’ve met Zara, and that’s her old man Rider.”

  Collective greetings came one after another. She smiled shyly as Tag situated her and straddled a stool next to her. Grateful for his nearness.

  “Hello, it is nice to meet you all. Forgive me if I forget names.”

  “I still forget them.” The younger, dark-haired girl called Angela said. “I call them thingy or hey you.”

  “The kid has no manners; a psycho raised her.” The man in a beanie hat chuckled and ruffled the girl’s hair. She grinned, slapping his hand away. “We don’t mention him, thank you.”

  It wasn’t hard to see this group of people were close.

  Angela and Judge had to take off soon after, Judge was driving her back to her college campus.

  Drinks arrived.

  Conversations flowed.

  Tag mouthed, “you okay?” His hand briefly touched her knee under the table, shooting static energy across her skin. God.

  She managed a smiling nod. Far from okay, but it had nothing to do with the company.

  And everything to do with the tingling where his hand lay.

  Tag was right, she was having a great time.

  Everyone was friendly, though sometimes talking too fast for her to translate. When Winter pointed out she’d seen Marianna in her library, the pair got into a discussion about romance books. Now this she could talk about forever!