Page 5 of Biker Bride (Hell on Heelz MC)

He seemed genuinely interested, seemed being the right word. “Have you always been a biker?”

“Yep,” I lied smoothly, holding his locked gaze. “Right out of high school. It’s in my blood. Couldn’t see myself doing anything else with this life.”

Vince’s lips quivered, like he had something just on the edge of them but was holding back. Probably the urge to tell me how pathetic that was. “It suits you. The independence, the freedom. I can see why you’re drawn to it.” The man was lying through his teeth.

I couldn’t help but laugh. “Yeah, something like that. What about you? Always been in... what is it you do again?” Kill people, launder money, run drugs, I thought, but didn’t voice it. He wasn’t so different from most outlaw bikers.

“Business. Just business. Let’s just say it involves a lot of travel and a lot of people.”

“Mysterious,” I teased, swirling the beer in my glass. Breathing steadily, I was so proud of my acting skills. I was holding it together, pretending to belong here. Resisting the urge to jump up and kick the finery off the table and dance. “You don’t strike me as the nine-to-five type.”

He shrugged, that same enigmatic smile never leaving his face. “You’re right. I’m not. I prefer to keep things... interesting.”

Leaning forward, I rested my chin on my hand. “So, tell me something interesting about yourself, Vince. Somethingmost people wouldn’t know.” Slipping off my heels, I ran my leg up under the table and rested my toes in between his thighs.

His eyes widened only a little as I circled his bulge with my big toe. “Alright, but only if you promise to share something equally interesting about yourself.”

“Deal,” I said, intrigued, expecting him to catch my foot with his hand, but he never did. He let me tease him while he fought a smile.

As if he wasn’t struggling to keep a straight face, he thought for a moment, then said, “I used to want to be a chef. Before everything else. I worked in a few high-end restaurants, ones my family owned, but I loved every minute of it. Life has its own agenda.”

“Wow, a man of many talents,” I replied, pretending to be impressed. “Okay, my turn. I once rode my bike into the lake. On a dare. Almost drowned. Lost that bike.”

He lifted his brow. “My lake?”

“You own a lake?”

“No, I just live out on the island. On Lake George. I’m almost positive the state of Florida owns the lake.”

Next, he drilled me, asked about my bike, my favorite places to ride, and I found myself answering him genuinely. Almost enjoying myself. There was something about him, something dangerous and alluring. I couldn’t resist. And as much as I tried to keep my guard up, I couldn’t help but be drawn in by his charm.

We ordered our food, and I discovered I was starved. I figured if Vince thought he wanted to put a ring on it, evenan imaginary one, I would give him a taste, ordering the most expensive items on the menu, even if I couldn’t pronounce them. I waited for Vince to bring up his proposal. But instead, we ate.

As we finished our main course, Vince excused himself to go to the restroom. I sipped on another beer, feeling the buzz of alcohol and anticipation as I ordered dessert. When he returned, he had a strange look in his eyes.

Vince got down on one knee, pulling out a small velvet box from his pocket. My eyes widened in shock as he opened it to reveal a stunning diamond ring.

“Sybil James,” he said, his voice steady and calm. “Will you marry me?”

Before I could process what was happening, I noticed a woman nearby with a phone pointed straight at us, recording the whole thing. The realization hit me like a ton of bricks. This was part of his plan, whatever it was.

“Yes,” I said, my voice strong. I produced a tear and plastered on a smile, allowing Vince to slip the ring onto my shaky finger. The surrounding crowd erupted in applause.

Vince pulled me into a tight hug, his lips brushing against my ear. “I’ll explain everything on the drive home,” he whispered.

Then we kissed, sealing the deal, and fuck, it was good. When Vince’s lips first touched mine, I was taken by surprise. For a split second, I tensed, wanting to slice him. But then the warmth of his mouth and the force of his movements pulled me in. The softness of his lips made no sense with the controlled, almost ruthless aura he exuded. Vince was a strange mix, gentle and commanding. Fuck, I could feel it in the cootch.

The crowd went wild, and I realized they were totally watching us. This had to look real, convincing. So I wrapped my arms around his neck, pressing my body against his. His hands settled on my waist, his fingers digging in ever so slightly, pulling me even tighter against him. This wasn’t just a kiss. It was a performance, a show of our passion and connection for the onlookers.

Our kiss deepened, our mouths moving together in a matched waltz. It was getting hot, not just between us, but in my panties. The way his tongue battled mine, the slight twitch of his teeth on my lower lip, it all felt like a challenge, a dare to match his fervor.

Not one to back down, I clung to his hair, my fingers intertwined in his locks as I tilted my head to deepen the angle. I heard a few gasps and cheers from the crowd, their excitement fueling us on. Vince responded with equal ardor, his hands roaming down to cup my ass, making it clear he was all in for this game of one-upmanship.

Our kiss became a clash for dominance, each of us pushing the limits to see who could make it more convincing, more eager. Neither of us were willing to back down. His grip on me tightened, and I could feel his heart racing against my chest, matching the frantic beat of my own. His hard cock pressed against my hip, and I raised my knee. Vince caught my bare thigh, his warm hand gliding up. Fuck.

He stopped short of fucking me right on the restaurant’s floor. The kiss ended, leaving both of us breathless and flushed. The crowd erupted into louder applause, clearly believing the performance. Vince’s eyes met mine, and for a moment, I was his, through and through.

He brought me back to reality, leaning in to whisper, “Atta girl, Sybil. I think they bought it.”

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