Page 43 of Nanny for the Bikers

I glance toward the door, a shiver that has nothing to do with the cold running through me. As much as I want to stay out here, wrapped in Kip’s arms, I know we can’t stay out here forever.

“We should go inside,” I suggest, my voice slightly breathy, betraying the desire still thrumming through my veins.

Kip’s warm hand grasps mine as he leads me back inside, the contrast between the chilly night air and the inviting warmth of the house making me shiver. The door closes behind us with a soft click, and suddenly, the atmosphere shifts, thick with anticipation and unspoken desires. My heart pounds against my ribcage, a staccato rhythm that echoes the pulsing need coursing through my veins.

In the dim light of the entryway, Kip turns to face me, his blue eyes dark with longing. Without a word, he pulls me close, his strong arms encircling my waist as our lips meet in a fervent kiss. It’s different from the tender, comforting kiss we shared outside—this one is hungry, urgent, filled with a passion that steals my breath away.

My fingers thread through his sandy hair, tugging him closer as I lose myself in the sensations. Kip’s hands roam my back, slipping beneath the jacket he lent me, his touch leaving trails of fire in their wake. I arch into him, craving more, needing to feel his skin against mine.

We stumble down the hall, our movements clumsy and desperate as we refuse to break the kiss. My mind is hazy, consumed by the feel of Kip’s body pressed against mine, bythe way he makes me feel alive and desired in a way I’ve never experienced before.

As we navigate the dimly lit corridor, Kip’s lips leave mine to blaze a path along my jaw, down the column of my throat. I gasp, my head falling back as I surrender to the pleasure of his touch.

“Ayla,” he murmurs against my skin, his voice rough with want. “You have no idea how much I’ve wanted this, wanted you.”

His words send a thrill through me, igniting a fire in my core. I tug at his shirt, needing to feel more of him, to explore the contours of his body with my hands and my mouth.

We reach the bedroom door, and Kip presses me against it, his hips pinning me in place as his hands explore my curves. I’m lost in a haze of sensation, consumed by the heat building between us, by the desperate need to be closer, to feel everything he has to offer.

With a groan, Kip reaches for the doorknob, and we stumble into the bedroom, ready to let the passion consume us entirely.

The door closes behind us with a soft click, sealing us in our own private world of tangled limbs and whispered desires. We tumble onto the bed, hands roaming, mouths hungry for each other’s taste.

Kip’s fingers skim the hem of my shirt, his touch sending shivers across my skin. “Can I?” he asks, his gaze meeting mine, seeking permission.

I nod, breathless, and he tugs the fabric over my head, tossing it aside. His eyes darken as they rake over my exposed skin, and he leans down to press a trail of kisses along my collarbone.

I arch into his touch, my fingers threading through his hair, urging him closer. The heat between us grows, a palpable force that consumes every thought, every sensation.

Just as Kip’s hands reach for the clasp of my bra, a sound pierces through the haze of desire—Piper’s cries, coming from down the hall.

We freeze, our eyes locking, chests heaving. Reality crashes back in, shattering the moment.

“I...” I swallow hard, torn between the ache of unfulfilled longing and the tug of responsibility. “I need to go to her.”

Kip nods, understanding etched in his features. He rolls off me, giving me space to rise from the bed.

With shaking hands, I retrieve my shirt and slip it back on, my skin still tingling from his touch. I glance back at Kip, taking in his tousled hair and kiss-swollen lips, the sight sending a fresh wave of want coursing through me.

Piper’s cries grow louder, more insistent, and I force myself to turn away. Duty calls, no matter how much I long to stay, to lose myself in Kip’s embrace.

As I step into the hallway, I can feel Kip’s gaze on me, a promise of what could be, of the passion left unfinished.

With a deep breath, I push aside my own desires and head towards Piper’s room, ready to be the caretaker, the nurturer, the one who puts others’ needs before her own…that’s always been my role.

23

KIP

Ilean against the kitchen counter, watching Clay slice tomatoes.

“You sure this barbecue is a good idea right now?” I ask, swiping a chunk of tomato. “Lot of shit going down with the club. Tempers running hot.”

Clay shrugs, his broad shoulders relaxed. “The boys need to blow off steam. Reconnect outside of business.” He slides the tomatoes into a bowl, tossing them with herbs. “Nothing brings people together like good food and cold beer.”

I nod, but uncertainty niggles at me. The tension among the Black Wolves feels like a powder keg lately, one wrong spark ready to ignite it.

“Besides,” Clay continues, wiping his hands on a towel, “morale is low. This’ll remind everyone what we’re standing for - brotherhood.”

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