Page 4 of Craving Her

“I really like you, Torin. I’m not trying to lead you on. I really don’t want this to end, but I’m kind of new to this kind of thing. I … Well, I think I need to slow down. I hope you can understand that. I really want this thing between us to happen, but I’m not really a quick hookup kind of girl.”

“I told you this isn’t a hookup,” he mutters. “I’m used to taking what I want, but for you, Peaches, I can slow it down a little.”

“You can?” I ask, my teeth pressing down into my lower lip as I stare up at him. Excitement begins to fill me again. Torin is not the kind of guy who backs down. The fact that he’s willing to has to mean something …

“Yes,but…” he begins, and I start to worry.

“But?”

“I’m not willing to wait too long. I want you, sweetheart.”

“I want you, too,” I confess, unable to deny it and truly not wanting to.

“Fuck,” he mutters, scrubbing his face with his hand. For a minute, I think he’s going to kiss me again. Before he can, Chad moans again, twisting his head against the gravel. “I should have killed the son of a bitch,” he gripes, making me laugh.

“Trust me. He’s not worth the jail time.”

Torin chuckles, stepping back and giving us both a little more breathing room. “I’m not so sure about that,” he counters with a wink. “However, if we’re going to stop for tonight, I need some food to distract me from the hunger for your body.”

“Does food do that?” I giggle.

“Doubtful, but unless you want me to fuck you right here and now, it better.”

“I guess this is where we say goodbye, then,” I respond, trying to sound upbeat, but inside I feel lonely already.I don’t want him to leave.

“Actually, that depends.”

“On what?” I question, attempting to tap down my hope.

“On if you’re going to agree to go grab a bite to eat with me at the diner across the road.” Chad moans yet again, making Torin smirk. “Not to put pressure on you, Peaches, but sleeping dickhead over there will be waking up soon and I’ll probably end up in that jail you were worried about.”

My lips spread into a smile when I see how cute and mischievous the look on his face is. “He can go to hell,” I remark. “I don’t really care what you do to him. Still, I’d rather not have to talk to him ever again.”

“Then, the diner it is,” Torin murmurs, his lips jerking into a small grin.

“I’d like that.”

“Good. We’ll take my bike.”

“Woah,” I murmur. “You’re going to put me on the back of your bike? Isn’t that a little serious for someone you only met less than an hour ago?” I might not be allowed to interact in the club, but I know what it means when a man puts a woman he wants on the back of his bike. Hell, maybe I’m the one overthinking at this point.

“I want you on the back of my bike. I want your legs opened and pressing against me, clenching and wet from the need to have my cock inside you. Does that clear it up for you?” I rub my lips together after a small whimper escapes. He reaches out his hand and presses his thumb against them, and I open to allow him entry. He allows just the tip to rub against my bottom lip. “Don’t torture your lips, Peaches. That’s my job.”

“Fair warning, Torin. You keep talking like you are and you won’t need your bike to experience that little scenario you just laid out.”

He gives me the sexiest grin I’ve ever seen in my life. I’m pretty sure it immediately disintegrates my panties. “That’s the plan, sweetheart. That’s the plan,” he brags.

Torin knows exactly what he’s doing to me. Before I can jump on him and wrap my body around him, Chad begins moving behind him, bringing his hand to his head, mumbling something incoherently. I didn’t like him before, and now I’m pretty sure I hate the cheating bastard.

“Let’s go, Torin. I’m suddenly very hungry,” I mutter, taking his hand.

Torin lets out another low, deep rumble that I believe is him laughing. It, however, seems to vibrate against my clit as if there’s an invisible connection between him and it. I can do nothing but sigh. We climb on his bike and he drives us across the road. We don’t talk once there. I get off and stand awkwardly as he does the same. He takes my hand as we walk inside the small mom and pop joint.

I thought he might take us to a booth, but he doesn’t. He walks to the counter with the spinning stools under it. He helps me slide onto one, then sits beside me. I watch his hand as he reaches out to snag a menu. He tries to hand it to me, but I shake my head.

“I know what I want. I’ve been here a lot. The owner is a family friend. She used to babysit me when I was little,” I explain.

“Muffin!”

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