what dreams are made of. Six five, two-hundred-plus pounds of pure controlled muscle.
When you watch Brick move, you can see every move is intentional. Oh, I should know. I watch him every chance I get. He doesn’t come around the club as often as others, but when he’s there, I notice.
Brick was one of Dad’s special kids. Cage had a way with people. He found what made you tick and then he made you see the best in you.
I’ve been around the MC life for as long as I can remember, and I know for a fact Cage was a phenomenal prez. King is following in his footsteps. I guess it’s in his blood.
Cage saw something in Brick and sent him off to be someone. I’m not entirely sure what it is Brick does, but I know it has made him wealthy. On a few occasions he has come to the club in a fancy car or slipped inside King’s office dressed in an expensive suit. God, what that man does for a suit.
I stand and rush to the mirror, looking over my reflection. I look a mess. That usually never bothers me, but in this moment, I’m cursing myself for not following all of Misty’s suggestions.
“Oh man,” I groan-whisper at my appearance.
I left my hair free and wild. My bush of bangs hangs in my face, instead of pulled back into a bun like Misty ordered. I wore the tight red dress she gave me, but instead of the red pumps she wanted me to wear, I put on my black wedge heeled sneakers. Eyeliner was as far as I went with the makeup, because I almost put an eye out doing that.
Thankfully, I stopped wearing my glasses freshman year of college. That decision too was courtesy of Misty suggesting and pleading. The things I let my best friend talk me into. I don’t know who’s crazier—her, or me for listening.
“Eva.”
I groan again, giving up on trying to push my hair out of my face as Brick growls out for me to come out once more. I love that sexy growl. His southern accent doesn’t hurt at all either.
It’s funny how I know his accent from anyone else’s. His family moved down from Tennessee years ago, but he has never lost that drawl. It’s distinct from the South Carolina and Georgia twangs I am used to hearing around the club.
“Eva, I’m not gonna say it again, darlin’. Get that ass of yours out here, now,” Brick demands, causing my body to tingle all over.
“Shit,” I mutter.
I’m totally going to embarrass myself. I move to the door and turn the lock, when I peek out, Brick is standing right there with his arms folded across his large muscled chest. His arms are nearly busting through the sleeves of his T-shirt.
I don’t know how he pulls off those thick muscles, but still somehow manages to look lean, yet powerful. Those thighs, someone help me please. I would love to be just one leg of those jeans.
Brick has a gorgeous face to match the rest of him. He has a sharp jaw he keeps framed by the well-groomed beard he wears, but it does nothing to hide those full sexy lips of his. His green gaze seems as if it can melt through you.
I love his hair. It’s shorter on the right side and a bit longish on the top, which you notice when he sometimes blows the top out. Other times, like now, he combs it over to the left side. I have always wanted to run my fingers through it. The thought alone makes my fingers itch to take action. Oh, to see my brown fingers run through his copper blond locks.
I may not have a lot of interest in the opposite sex, but that’s probably because all of my interest is in this being of the opposite sex.
“He’s not going to hurt you, baby girl. Let’s go. I need to get you out of here, now,” Brick says with a slight frown.
I nod my head in understanding. Brick doesn’t get his hands dirty unnecessarily. That much I do know.
I don’t get much into club business, but I do know some of the brothers are responsible for representing the Lost Souls in a better light. This has disaster written all over it if we don’t get out of here.
I step fully from behind the door and out of the bathroom. I swear I hear the sharp intake of air Brick