Page 25 of When Sparks Fly

This whole scenario is not what I would anticipate club politics to look like. Not that I know all that much about motorcycle clubs.

No sooner do I set my glass back on the table when Colt grabs my seat and pulls the barstool several inches closer to him, causing it to scrape in protest on the concrete floor. My heart jumps and Leah and I lock gazes. She gives Colt a once over, but not seeing anything concerning, picks up her conversation with Pete. The right side of my body warms, my stool nearly tucked between Colt’s legs. He leans toward me, his mouth right at my ear, all but whispering, “Don’t worry about him,” causing a chill to run down my spine.

A hip hop song comes on and Pete pulls Leah off her stool toward the dance floor, flipping the bill of his black ball cap to the back with his free hand. She shoots me a wink over her shoulder. They’re grinding on each other in no time.

“You dance?” Colt’s breath tickles my ear.

Before turning to face him, I shift back on the barstool, trying to create more space between us. “I do.” Not for a second do I think he’s going to ask me and he doesn’t.

A silent moment passes and then Colt grunts as if responding to someone. My brows furrow. “What’s that?”

“Nothing.” His response is quick and holds a hint of agitation, which he quickly morphs as he continues. “You’re quiet. You shy or do I make you nervous?”

I laugh. “I’m not usually quiet, or shy, for that matter, and you don’t make me nervous. It’s been a long few days and the drinks are catching up with me, I think.” I immediately regret admitting the latter part.

“Mm.” Colt finishes his beer. “That explains why you’re tense.” The fingers of his free hand tickle along the outside of my thigh.

I set my jaw and stare into his eyes. “Maybe I’m just bored.”

He laughs. It’s a gritty sound with a measure of darkness to it. “You need some entertainment or something then?” He draws his bottom lip between his teeth and rakes his eyes over me.

“Something.” I’m going for bold banter, but it feels awkward coming out of my mouth. He doesn’t seem to notice.

Pete and Leah rejoin us. Colt turns to me with a wicked grin. “Come with me.”

I hardly have a chance to query, “Where to?” as he reaches for my hand and pulls me off the bar stool.

“You’ll see.” His tone is teasing. He gives Pete a glance. “We’ll be back.”

Leah winks as Colt leads me away. He doesn’t head for the dance floor, instead making his way through the back room and toward an exterior door.

“Where are we going?” I’m laughing as I take two steps for every one of his. My legs are heavy and my feet are less coordinated. He doesn’t respond as he pushes open the metal door and leads us into the dark of night.

Outside the air is cool and I rub my arms, mostly exposed by the lacy detail of my long sleeves. Colt turns sharply, kicking a piece of concrete at the door as it closes sideways. The corner of the door skids the rock along with it until they butt up against the frame, leaving a small gap rather than latching closed.

He cages me against the brick wall with an arm on either side of my head, his body mere inches from mine. His hot breath skates over my lips. “You wanted entertainment, so I’m about to show you how I can play your body.”

Colt’s composed demeanor from inside is a thing of the past. He uses his hips to pin me against the wall which scrapes my back through my thin shirt. His hands travel from my hips up my sides with a firm grip and he leans in, kissing me hungrily.

He tastes of beer and cigarette smoke and the scent of motor oil overwhelms me. The combination is threatening to make my drinks reappear.

When he releases my lips, I lean my head back against the brick wall and suck in a deep breath, willing my stomach to settle. The sky glitters with stars, void of any clouds.

A sliver of light from the cracked door penetrates the blackness of night. The warmth of the back room escapes through the gap, dancing over my skin, a complete contrast to the cool night air. Goosebumps rise on my arms and neck.

The possibility of someone coming upon us from the exit, or either side of the building, is equally terrifying and exciting. I lean into it, and my current blood alcohol content, in hopes of enjoying what’s happening.

I discover that Colt’s leather cut has soaked up the cold surprisingly fast when my fingers brush it, slipping under his shirt. I’m met with a firm build. His stomach muscles tense beneath my fingertips as he startles.

“Your hands are freezing,” he grumbles between sloppy kisses up my neck.

“Sorry.” It’s a blatant lie.

He immediately releases his grip on my sides to grab both wrists, pinning them between our bodies. “I’m happy to warm them.”

With one wrist locked in place between us, he thrusts the other hand toward his groin where I squeeze when he presses my hand against his erection. “Feel what I’ve been dealing with all night because of you?”

An inkling of doubt nudges me from within as my mind takes this opportunity to remind me one-night-stands are not something I’ve had experience with. Colt pinning me against a public wall for his gratification proves he isn’t concerned with the speed at which I jump into bed with someone, and the short-term nature of my time in town means I don’t care what he thinks of me since I don’t plan to see him ever again. So I push the nerves away.

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