Page 64 of Snared Rider

He leads me up the stairs to the first floor and to his room. He flicks the light on even as he kicks the door shut behind us. Then I hear the lock mechanism as he engages it.

When he turns back to me his expression is hungry and predatory, and it makes my entire body shiver. He doesn’t pause, doesn’t think. He moves.

I’m backed against the wall, his strong hands holding me firm as his lips descend upon mine. My body thrums and aches with need for him even as my brain warns me of the dangers of a man like Logan. I don’t listen. I take what I want, and what I want in that moment is Logan.

His hands grip my face as he trails scorching, hard, desperate kisses along my mouth, nipping at my bottom lip, devouring me. I’m breathless, unable to think or move as he takes control, just like he always takes control. He tastes of the beer he’s been drinking all night and spice from whatever he’s eaten. He also smells good, so fucking good

“I missed you,” he tells me.

“I missed you, too.” I lean up to kiss him again, but this time it is a chaste kiss. “We should just tell everyone we’re together. That way we don’t have to hide.”

He nips at my lip. “Soon.”

I pull back from him and meet his intense gaze.

“Why not now?”

He releases my wrists and brings his hands to cup my face. “The minute we tell those fuckers we’re together we’re not going to get a minute of peace.” He kisses me softly and sensually, and I can’t help but lean into him. “I want you to myself for a little while.”

He’s not wrong. I have no idea what everyone’s reactions will be, although I would hope they would be pleased for us. But bikers are an unpredictable lot, and while Logan and I are doing nothing wrong they may not like a brother being with another brother’s daughter.

So, I roll over and do as he wants. My need for him outweighs everything else and I’ll gladly do whatever he asks as long as we’re together.

For as long as I can remember I’ve wanted Logan and I’ll take him however he comes. If he wants to wait, I’ll wait. If he wants to shout about us from the rooftops, I’ll stand with him and yell. All I care about is being with him.

But as eager as I am to please him, fear nips at my heels. Is he ashamed of me? Is this why he doesn’t want to spill the beans?

I shouldn’t ask, but I can’t stop the words tumbling out.

“Are you worried what people will think?”

He pulls back to get a better look at me and whatever he sees on my face has his own crumpling. “No, baby; I’m not. I don’t care what any of those people think. You’re mine. End of story. I just don’t want to share you. Not yet. Not when we’re just getting used to each other as a couple. I want time and space to do that. We tell mum we’re together she’s going to be measuring you for wedding dresses.”

I snort because this is true. Mary Harlow loves her children and she loves me. This gives me hope there will be no awkwardness when we finally tell people about us.

“I know. I just… I don’t want you to be ashamed of me.”

He kisses me softly. “I could never ever be ashamed of you.”

I should let it go there, but I can’t. My doubts are still nagging at me.

“I’m younger than you.”

“Barely.” He’s right; there are only three years between us. It might as well be eighteen.

“But I’m still younger.”

“I don’t care.”

My thoughts scatter and I suddenly don’t care what anyone thinks either as he leans into me, his groin pressing against mine in a possessively sexual move that makes my insides clench deliciously. I push my hips forward to meet his and feel a tingle of anticipation race through every synapse in my body. I wish we were not clothed, that there was no barrier between us. Logan seems to have the same thought because his hand skims under my top. My stomach muscles quiver as his fingers ghost over my belly before he tugs the material up and over my head. Then his mouth is back on mine.

My legs feel weak as his tongue tries to gain entry into my mouth again, inviting me to play. I need little enticing; I’m more than willing to do whatever he wants.

My thoughts scatter as Logan’s fingers clamp around my left breast, freeing it from my bra. He rubs the nipple until it hardens beneath his touch. I arch into him, electricity firing through all my nerve endings as he strokes me. It is divine and heady, and it takes everything I have to stay on my feet.

I try to focus on kissing him and meet his tongue with my own, but I lose control as his other hand gravitates down my hip toward my belt buckle. Not pausing in his tongue action, he undoes it and tugs my jeans down before I can comprehend what he’s doing.

I shake free of the confining denim, my fingers digging into his back as I try to steady myself. Standing only in my bra and knickers, I stare up at the man who consumes me completely, panting.

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