Page 44 of Jingle Belle's Biker

He’s hard, big, pressing into me.

I slide my fingers over his shaved head, the beard a soft tickle against me. I’m undulating inside, a deep beat of something that’s pure need, pure excitement. I rub against him, like I’m trying to get up on him and ride him hard and fast.

His hands slide down to grip my ass, grind me against him, making me wetter, making my pussy throb, my clit needy.

Saint breaks the kiss to bite and lick down my throat, then he sucks on my artery. It sends a bolt of desire so sharp through my pussy it contracts. Like a lightning bolt of an orgasm. One flash, one tease, and it’s gone.

I moan loudly, and he kisses his way back up to claim my mouth again.

I kiss him hard, with everything there is, and then?—

“Fuck!” He jumps back, releasing me as he shakes the cat off his leg.

“Nomad.”

The cat growls, and I grip the counter to stay on my feet as he sweeps the cat up.

“What the fuck’s your problem? I don’t want to make out with you, idiot. I want to make out with her.”

Everything in me goes red hot, and my knees half buckle.

But Saint doesn’t put the cat down. He doesn’t attempt to kiss me again.

“Saint?”

There’s something like regret in his eyes as he runs a thumb over my lips, which feel tender and swollen.

“Maybe this hamburger helper here’s got a point. Ten sharp points that I think might have drawn blood, but a point. It’s a bad idea.”

“Kissing me’s a bad idea?”

“The worst I’ve had.”

“Oh.”

He closes the gap and kisses me again. “The fucking best worst idea. But I’m your neighbor.”

“Short term.”

“You just got out of a relationship.”

“No,” I say. “I didn’t. And maybe you’re right. Maybe you should go.”

His words, they’re sharp too. Coated with a teasing soft, seductive edge and warm humor, but under that? Razor blades.

“Red . . .” Nomad looks at me forlornly as Saint takes my face in one hand. “Don’t be like that. I just—shit. I want to do a whole lot more than just kiss you. But?—”

“No, you’re right, bad idea.” I pull away, get some lasagna from the fridge, and hand it to him. “I’ll see you around.”

With that, I march off to the door, leaving him no choice but to go. “Belle . . .”

“Good night, Saint.” I close the door on both of them.

I sink to the floor and bury my head in my hands. Usually, I handle things better than that. How we got from a kiss to a fight to me kicking him out is beyond comprehension.

He has no idea when I broke up with Lance.

And wanting a step back goes for guys as well as girls.

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