Christ, did she know the meaning of hard? He could move her hand downward over the bulge in his jeans to teach her.
“Construction.”
Nodding, she turned her gaze to his chest. The sight of the top of her head shouldn’t fill him with an all-consuming protectiveness, but dammit, it did. His throat closed off as he realized just how much he wanted to wrap this woman in his arms and keep her safe from the ugliness of the world. Ugliness that would ruin her.
Ugliness that he would bring upon her with the mess he was in.
He started to move backward, but she stepped into him. When she slipped her arms around his neck, he felt as if his boots had been bolted to the earth. Without meaning to, he slipped both hands up to cup her breasts. A more insistent moan escaped her lips, and she dropped her head back.
Staring down at her face, he watched pleasure play over her features as he learned the contours of her full breasts—and then the sharp little peaks of her nipples through the coat.
He started on the buttons. She watched him, lips parted. Desire, searing hot, took hold when he reached inside her jacket, edged his hands underneath her top and cupped her breasts fully with only a lacy bra between them.
He kissed her. Took those plump lips for himself and damn the consequences. Instantly, she melted into his kiss, head angled perfectly and her lips parted enough for him to sweep his tongue inside. She gripped his shoulders, gasping and so fucking responsive he thought he’d come in his jeans before he even got her undressed.
When he pushed under the band of her bra and found her straining nipples, he pinched each. She muffled a cry and kissed him all the more. He started to walk her into her actual campsite and off the trail that anybody could come along and see them. The need to conceal her from anybody’s view burned hotter than the campfire they’d sat around together.
Swirling his fingertip around and around each hardened nipple, he drew on her lips. She came onto tiptoe again, straining against him, rocking with a need he felt building inside her.
Tearing from the kiss, he moved to her throat, kissing that tiny spot he’d seen when she unbuttoned her coat and then down to her collarbones. When he popped one of her breasts from the cup of her bra and lifted it to his lips, she sank her fingers into his hair on a gasp.
“Patriot!”
Jesus, hearing his name falling from her lips shouldn’t give him such a thrill. He needed to get out more. Maybe date someone.
Or take this woman who urged him on with tiny squeaks as he sucked her nipple into his mouth. He drew on it lightly at first and then with more insistence. His cock throbbed behind his fly, aching hard and ready to go.
“Oh my God,” she rasped out as he grazed her nipple with his teeth. “I’ve never…”
He froze at her uncompleted sentence. Two heartbeats passed and he raised his head. Looking into her eyes, hazy with passion, he asked, “Never what?”
She drew in a shuddering breath. “Never had a man touch me this way. I…”
The band around his cock moved upward to cinch in both lungs. “Aarica?”
“I’m a virgin.” The words tumbled from her lips, but it took him a moment to understand the meaning.
Fuck, he’d been toying with a virgin. About to take her in a fucking tent. He would have too.
What an asshole.
He started to release her, but she held him tighter around the neck. Reluctant to lift one fingertip from her body, he stared into her eyes. “How did a woman your age get to be a virgin?”
She shrugged. “Farm girl. Five older cousins running everyone off.”
Damn. He couldn’t touch her. Stealing her innocence in a campground with the idea of never seeing her again would make him the biggest dickhead on the planet.
This time he peeled his fingers off her and stepped back. “I can’t touch you, baby.”
Her eyelids fluttered over those big eyes that grabbed him by the guts in the first place. She dropped her head, giving him a view of the top again. And again, that protective surge drove him to envelop her in his arms once more.
A cry left her as he bore her toward the tent, picnic table, the ground—fuck, anyplace would do.
“Just kiss me.” The roughened plea in her tone set him on fire and awakened him all in three little words.
Capturing her lips, he took up where he left off, brushing her nipples into tight peaks until she writhed and then he inched his hands down her small waist to the button of her jeans. He paused a moment, but she urged him on by flipping her tongue over his.
His cock pounded with need, and he might want to take her in the raunchiest and most primal of ways, but he was man enough to step away from that mentally. That didn’t mean he couldn’t pleasure her, though.
He popped the button, slid down the zipper and then breached the lacy band of her panties. When he eased his hand inside and located the slick, scorching heat of her pussy, his knees damn near buckled.
“Patriot! Yes!” She shook when he teased up her seam and found the tight knot of nerves that made her scream. All he could do was kiss her to trap the noises inside as he teased that bud again and again. What he wouldn’t give to shove a finger inside her but he wouldn’t claim her virginity this way.
He toggled her clit under his fingertip. She rocked her hips and scrabbled at his spine. When she tensed, he had to wonder if she knew what would happen in the next second, if she’d ever given herself an orgasm.
She gave one last rock of her hips and then let go. It seemed she knew exactly what would happen, because she took his mouth for her own and kissed the hell out of him while she came on his fingers.
Chapter Two
As Patriot rolled up to the clubhouse, the loud music met him before the guys did. He smiled and shook his head. They had their party on already. Unbelievable. In a short time, the club had morphed from a few guys sitting around a garage on lawn chairs talking about a brotherhood of old friends to a distinct lifestyle complete with leather, patches and more people milling around than ever.
He parked his bike on the corner next to Tank’s. Before he removed his helmet and swung his leg over the motorcycle, one of the honeys was on him.
“Patriot. Where you been, sweetie? I missed you this weekend.” She ran her long nails over his chest.
He stepped away and tried not to scowl in complete disgust. Some of the honeys were better than others—just looking for a place to call home and a family within the club. But others, such as this one named Rochelle, gunned hard for that patch so the Dark Falcons would take care of her forever.
The man who took Rochelle on would be sorry within a month. It sure as hell wouldn’t be him.
Without a glance in her direction, he strode toward the clubhouse. She followed along. “Were you away for work?” she asked.
“No.” He opened the door and wasn’t so much of an asshole that he wouldn’t allow a woman to pass through first. She did with a coy smile that told him she read far more into the gesture than he meant.
The instant his boots crossed the threshold, chairs were scraped back and his brothers shouted his name. Tank reached him first, thumping him on the back. Diesel bro-hugged him.
“How were the mountains?” Tank’s question sounded innocent enough, but the concern in his eyes left Patriot aware that Dixon had filled the guys in on the situation.