I pull on his neck, bringing his mouth back to mine and giving him the green light. Sly captures my mouth and his hands cup my breasts. I feel the moan vibrate up from his throat and he squeezes those big palms. A jolt of arousal shoots through me.
After another minute, he pulls his mouth back an inch and peers down at my shirt with the laced-up V-neck. He tugs on one of the strings. “These have been drivin’ me crazy all night. Sexy as hell.”
I grin. Pleased he thinks so.
Some old trucker with a grizzled beard walks to the doors, maybe twenty feet away, and glances over at us, then chuckles and mutters, “Get a room.”
The corner of Sly’s mouth pulls up and he backs off, taking my hand. “Come on, pretty girl. Let’s get out of here.”
We mount up on the bike and blast out onto the highway, heading back toward Uprising. The whole trip back, he’s got one palm on my thigh, squeezing and rubbing it and making me crave more.
When we near town, Sly makes a couple of turns, and I realize he’s not heading back to the pub or my apartment.
Finally, he pulls into the driveway of a ranch-style home, then shuts off the bike and we dismount. It’s silent in the night except for the sound of crickets and the ticking of the cooling Harley engine. I look up at the place. “What are we doing here?”
He hooks a finger in my belt loop and pulls me against him. “This is my place. Thought we could finish what we started back there. But if you want, I’ll take you back to the pub.”
He’s giving me the choice. I can stay or go. I look into his eyes, wondering if I can trust him with my body, and maybe with my heart. Do I stay and take the chance?
“Michaela, this is all up to you. You call the shots. You want to go, we’ll go, but I’m diggin’ you, big time. Thought you felt the same way.”
“I do, but …” my voice trails off, unsure.
“Sweetheart, I’m not gonna do anything you’re not ready for, but damn, girl, you turn me on. Those kisses were hot as fire, and I ain’t gonna lie, you got me wantin’ more, a lot more.” He brushes his thumb down my cheek. “I’ll never hurt you. I swear it. You’re safe with me.”
“Okay,” I squeak out, so sucked under by this man and every word that falls out of his sexy mouth. He’s like a drug I’m already addicted to. I’m drawn to him and powerless to fight the attraction. It’s like floating along on a river that’s picking up speed with each passing minute until the trees on the bank are flying past in a blur, and there’s only his green eyes swallowing me up in a whirl.
Sly takes my hand and leads me to the door, keying the lock. We enter a living room, breeze past a kitchen, and head down a hall to his bedroom. It’s surprisingly neat with a low platform bed, nightstand, and dresser—no clutter, no dust, no laundry on the floor. At every turn, this man shocks me.
What kind of biker is a obsessively neat? Or maybe he has a cleaning service. Or some girl from the club. Or a girlfriend. I suddenly pull back at the thought.
He turns, frowning. “What’s wrong?”
“Your bed’s made.”
“Yeah? So?”
I glance around looking for any trace that there’s a female living here.
“You’re not, like … married, are you?”
He huffs out a laugh. “What? Are you serious?”
“This place is too tidy for a guy.”
“Babe, there’s no wife, no girlfriend, no ol’ lady. I’ve just always picked up my shit.” He taps my forehead with his index finger. “Quit thinking so much. Time to just feel.”
With that, Sly pulls me against him for another one of those kisses hot enough to melt ice. I agree with him. I need to stop overthinking this and just enjoy.
I lay my hands on his chest, feeling the leather beneath my fingertips, and it sinks in all over again who this man is—a full-patched member of the Kings of Carnage.
His hands cover mine as he breaks our connection. He smiles down at me, steps back to pull off his leather cut, what I’ve learned he calls that vest with his club’s patches or colors, then hangs it on the back of a chair in the corner of the room and walks toward me. As he does, he tugs off the thermal shirt he’s wearing and tosses it back on the chair as well. And oh, my God, Sly’s body is amazing. There’s ink on his neck that trails down his left arm, but the rest of his chest and abs are all beautifully tanned skin. He’s got a six-pack to die for and that sexy V that disappears into his pants. I bite my bottom lip to keep from licking them.
He hooks a thumb in the waistband of his jeans and cocks his head to the side, looking at me. “Damn, girl. Every time you do that, my dick gets hard.”
“Do what?”
“Bite your bottom lip.”
I immediately stop, hardly aware of it. Still, he just stands there, staring at me.
“What are you doing?”
“Just lookin’ at you, pretty girl, and takin’ in the fact I’ve got you standing here in my bedroom.”
“Well, now that you’ve got me here, what are you going to do with me?” I challenge with a quirk of my brow.
He grins. “A hell of a lot, baby girl.”
Sly grabs my ass and hefts me up, and a moment later, I’m flat on my back on his king-sized bed with his hard body on top of me. His biceps bracket me in as he holds up some of his weight. One jean-covered leg is thrown over mine, and I can feel his erection through the soft denim.
His skin is warm and he smells so good, like leather and outdoors and a scent all his own.
His mouth comes down on mine, and one palm trails over my hip. He pushes his knee between my thighs and grabs my leg behind the knee, pulling up until my crotch is pressed to his thigh. He shifts, rubbing against me through my jeans and it feels so erotic. I moan into his mouth while he keeps at it until I swear I’m going to orgasm just from that.
He rolls onto his back and I end up straddling him, a knee on either side of his hips. He tugs at the hem of my henley. “Lose this.”
I take a breath and pull it over my head. I’m wearing a black bra and his eyes drop to it, then his hands cup my waist, but don’t go any farther.
“Let your hair down.”
I pull the hair tie free and work the braid from the bottom up, threading my fingers through until it falls free in waves around my shoulders.
A lock falls against my cleavage, and Sly reaches up and touches it. “It’s like pale fire against your skin. Beautiful.” He sits up and wraps his arms around me, planting his face in my cleavage, kissing each swelling mound.
He moves back and leans against the headboard, then hooks a finger in one strap and draws it down my arm. “Take this off.”
I reach behind me and unhook it, pulling it free and tossing it aside, then warm calloused hands immediately close over my bare breasts, squeezing and kneading them. He runs both thumbs back and forth over my nipples. They’re erect and so sensitive that I bite my bottom lip and moan, my eyes sliding shut. Sly moves forward and takes one in his hot mouth. My breath stutters at the sensation of his facial hair brushing against my soft skin. Oh, God, that’s hot.
He toys and licks and sucks and tugs until I’m writhing against him, my hands clutching his head to me. He moves on to the other.