“Waiting for what?” He cupped her breast in his palm, gently squeezed the soft weight, brushed his thumb over her nipple peaked beneath her clothes. She moaned and leaned forward, pressing her breast into his hand. What man could lie beside this woman night after night and not want to fuck her multiple times?
“I guess … for things to be right. Serious. But they never were, and after awhile it just stopped being an issue.”
“Sex isn’t an issue, darlin’. Not for a man. And not if he’s got a beautiful, curvy woman like you lying beside him in the bed. Only issue is how many times he’s gonna make you come and how loud he’s gonna make you scream.”
A smile tugged her lips. “More compliments.”
He slid his hand under her shirt and flicked the catch of her bra. “Not saying it to be nice. Saying it so you know how this is gonna play out, if that’s what you want.”
Her breath caught when he pushed her bra up and stroked a finger along the curve of her breast. So soft. So warm.
“I don’t know if this is what I want. I just broke up with Maurice. You’re a biker. And you’re injured. Maybe it’s not right.”
He brushed his lips over hers. “Then why are you still sitting on my lap?”
*
The roar of a motorcycle shattered the silence.
Naiya slid off Holt’s lap, her heart pounding now for a different reason. Holt ran for the window. “Jesus H Christ. How the fuck do they keep finding us?” He saw her reach for her bag and shook his head. “Leave it, darlin’. We gotta run.”
“We’ll have no clothes, no food. And your cut…” Heart racing, Naiya grabbed the backpack and shoved Holt’s cut inside. Then she raced to the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of water and a few apples. As an afterthought, she grabbed a kitchen knife. Not that she would ever stab anyone, but it was good to be prepared.
“Leave the fucking cut. I’m done with the Sinners.” Holt holstered his gun and tugged on his shoes. “Whatever is missing, we’ll have to wing it.”
“The whole winging it thing is starting to get to me.” Naiya fastened her bra and slid the backpack over her shoulders. “Ever since meeting you I’ve been more impulsive than I’ve ever been in my life.”
“Gimme the pack.” Holt held out his hand.
“You’re barely able to walk, much less run.” She tightened the shoulder straps. “You don’t need the added burden of the pack.”
Holt scowled. “Pack. Now. I’ll not have a woman carrying anything for me that I can carry myself.”
“Seriously?” Naiya clipped the chest strap above her breasts. “This isn’t the Stone Age. I go to the gym. I work out. What’s the point of lifting weights if I don’t use my muscles?”
“What muscles?” Holt stalked toward her, his hand outstretched. “You’re small. Soft.”
“Statistically speaking, men are generally stronger than women,” Naiya said. “However, right now, given your current condition, I suspect I have more stamina than you, and you’ll need all your energy just to keep up with me. As a result, it makes sense for me to keep the backpack and for you to get your ass in gear.”
“Christ. Gimme the damn pack!”
The cabin vibrated with the rumble of motorcycles, and Naiya’s heart drummed in her chest. She yanked open the back door and looked over her shoulder. “Come and get it.”
She took off down the path leading into the forest, Holt close on her heels, shouting directions as they pounded their way along the dirt trail. She heard the high-pitched rev of an engine and caught her breath.
“They’re coming down the trail on their bikes. We’ll never outrun them.”
Holt passed her at a run, reached back, and grabbed her hand. “I walked the trails when we got here. A couple of them are too narrow for their bikes. This way.”
Chest heaving, she ran behind him, struggling to keep up with his long strides. If this was Holt injured, she couldn’t imagine how fast he could go if he were well.
The rumble of bikes vibrated through the forest, silencing the birds. Holt veered off the main path to an overgrown trail, barely visible through the underbrush. After fifty feet, the trail angled down, and Naiya stumbled, dropped to her knees in the dirt.
“Up.” Holt yanked her arm, and pulled her up. Sweat soaked her back beneath her pack, dripping off her forehead as she stumbled behind him. Every breath burned in her lungs. Although she ran three or four mornings a week, she had never run like this—full on, flat out, every muscle in her body straining—it almost made a joke out of her morning jog. Part of her thrilled at being pushed to her limit, and yet this wasn’t recreation. She knew what was waiting for her back at the Black Jack clubhouse and she couldn’t go through it again.
She kept her head down and followed Holt’s feet, stepping where he stepped, jumping when he jumped. Despite his injuries, he kept up a good pace, although he was breathing as hard as she was.
Holt skidded to a stop when they reached the lake at the end of the trail. “Boat launch.” He pointed along the shore.
Naiya groaned, wavered on her feet. “I don’t think—”