“I don’t have a problem finding dates, no.” He laughs. “But there’s something about you, something that has me searching six freeways trying to find you.”
“Six?” I repeat meekly. He smiles a big grin and nods.
“Yeah, six.”
Fuck me.
“Do you normally chase strange women along the freeway?” I tease, crossing my arms.
“Nah, just the ones who have a nice rack.” He winks, his tone not holding any humor. My face falls, my urge to tease him vanishes. For some reason, I want to look at my tits, to see what he’s seeing, but I hold his hard stare.
He steps toward me, and I uncross my arms. “Come,” he whispers. My eyes flick to his; hearing him say the simple word sounds so erotic. He grins like a Cheshire cat. Oh, yeah, he knows what he’s doing.
He tucks my hair behind my ears, his finger skirting against my skin, and pushes the black helmet on my head. He smiles, and little wrinkles form around his eyes.
“What?” I smile in return, his energy contagious.
“You look fucking adorable,” he whispers ever so softly, like he didn’t mean to actually say it. His eyes flick to mine, as if he just realized what he said out loud. His smile fades into something hard, his eyes never leaving mine as he awaits my answer. After him putting the helmet on my head, I don’t see him getting on his bike and riding off solo.
“All right, I’ll go,” I whisper back. My heart slams against my chest, telling me not to do this, not to give in. But the churning in my stomach and the throb between my legs have me climbing on the back of his massive bike with him moments later.
I wrap my arms around his solid body, and my nipples are flush with his back, suddenly aching with arousal. His vest is hot and smells of leather. The scent has me inhaling deeply; it’s sexy and masculine. Fuck, I’m in trouble. Why did I do this? Why in the hell did I climb on his bike? I know nothing good can come of this. “Just one night,” I mutter, trying to talk some reason into myself.
Lip shifts in front of me, resting his hand on my knee. “You okay?” he questions, his touch making my knee tingle. I nod, and the helmet that’s suffocating my head shifts forward slightly. I lean back to adjust it when I notice his leather vest says ‘Devil’s Dust’ across the back of it with a menacing-looking skull right dead in the center. My eyes widen. How did I not see that before? He’s a part of that gang the news is always talking about. They say they’re dangerous criminals. I swallow the lump in my throat and blow out a scared breath. Maybe I should step off and tell him this isn’t a good idea.
He gives my bare knee a tender squeeze. “Hold on, Cherry.” Shit, I can’t get off now. I close my eyes tightly and claw at the front of his shirt in fear of falling off. The bike starts, and everything on my body vibrates with such intensity my vision doubles. Lip doesn’t even look behind him and just jets off onto the freeway. The wind blows in my face harshly, nearly taking my breath away. I look over Lip’s neck and strong shoulders. God, he is the sexiest man I’ve ever seen. Lip darts left quickly, and I cling to him as a squeal sounds from my chest. I can’t help the big smile that forms along my face as Lip chuckles at my reaction. I’ve never been on a bike before—never really gave it much thought, to be honest. But this, it’s amazing. It’s dangerous yet freeing, daring yet comforting.
I love it.
***
“You want a drink?” Lip asks me. I wasn’t scared of coming to the party before, but now that we’re here, I’m freaking out. We aren’t at a party; no, we’re at the fucking club where his motorcycle gang hangs out.
“Yeah. A soda would be nice,” I yell, looking all around me. There is smoke dancing up into the ceiling from all the cigars and cigarettes, the smell of booze and cheap perfume strong. There are girls giving me dirty looks, and I’m pretty sure a man is getting head against the wall in the corner. I dig my nails into my palms and follow Lip to the bar. I’ve been to parties, but nothing this brazen. Girls are wearing leather chaps with no panties, and most of the men are shirtless revealing tattoos and piercings.
“Lip, who’s your friend?” I slowly turn my head toward the unfamiliar rough voice, finding a tall man with dark-colored hair and the greenest eyes I’ve ever seen. His eyebrows are knitted together, causing hard wrinkles to form on his forehead. His jaw is defined, cheeks strong. He’s even more intimidating than Lip, if that’s possible.
The man holds his hand out to shake. “I’m Bull.” His tone is friendly, contradicting the hard stare that’s chiseled into his face. I shake his hand and muster a smile, my eyes falling to his patch on his leather jacket reading ‘president’. He must be in charge. His strong palm grips my hand, and his arms are bigger than anything I’ve seen before. I gently pull my hand away and shrink where I stand, nerves and fear creeping up my back.
“I’m—”