Page 9 of Stranded With the Biker

Our eyes connected, and I felt something in the center of my chest. Bright blue eyes framed with thick long auburn lashes stared at me. I had no idea how the hell it had only been a week. A week of meeting her, knowing her, looking into blue eyes I knew I wanted to spend a lifetime staring into.Mine, a voice whispered loudly in my head.

“I didn’t think I believed in that. Soulmates and loves of your life and all that.” My voice sounded scratchy in my ears.

“Really?” Her gaze grew hooded.

“Yeah,” I confirmed huskily. “Way I lived—“ I swallowed hard. “But now? I believe in the one.”

“What made you change your mind?” she whispered, and I leaned in closer. Or we both did, I wasn’t positive. Suddenly, she was right next to me. My head dipped a little lower, so close I could smell the cherry-scented soda on her breath.

“I think you know what made me change my mind,” I whispered roughly.

Time slowed. We inched toward one another. Her lips parted, and the moment her mouth touched mine, it was exquisite. Soft lips danced against mine, and I held on to the tiniest sliver of control to keep things sweet and tender. She deserved a great first kiss, and I wanted to give that to her. But the moment the tip of her tongue swiped my lower lip, that thin thread of control snapped. My body shifted toward her, and my hands, having a mind of their own, reached for her curvy waist. She gasped against my mouth when I lifted her and settled her on my lap. The sound settled inside of me, but not as much as the sensation of her hands on my shoulders, her lips back on mine. We got lost in the moment, but there was no denying the control she silently handed over. My tongue dueled hers for dominance, the flavor or her mouth sinfully delicious.

I was a lucky son of a bitch that some idiot out in the world who had the privilege of meeting her before me hadn’t snatched and claimed her for himself. Tearing my mouth off hers, I made my way down to her neck. The tips of her fingernails embedded themselves into my biceps as her tits pressed against my chest. “Fucking delicious, princess.”

“Oh god,” she moaned. I laved at the line of her neck, licking and sucking. A sick depraved part of me wanted to leave a mark on her pale skin. Wanted something for her to look at in the next couple of days to remind her of my mouth on her skin and my hands on her body.

“Hugo,” she moaned sweetly, and it was like she was talking to the basest, most primal part of me. I scrapped my teeth against her skin before licking it again. “Oh god.”

“Not god, princess,” I rasped. My hands moved from her waist, drifting toward the hem of her white tank top. I loved the goose-fleshed skin of her back my hands encountered. “Tell me to stop, and I will,” I promised. “If this is too much.”

“More,” she whispered, tugging on my long-sleeved shirt. “So much more, please, Da— Hugo.” My dick thickened beneath the denim of my jeans. She had been about to call me daddy, and fuck me, I wanted that. I needed it. “I think you had it right the first time, baby,” I mumbled before pulling the long-sleeved shirt up and over my head, leaving me in a white tank because I’d tucked the thing into my pants. She pulled away and licked her lips. There was a fire in her eyes, a heat of appreciation at what she saw when she looked at me.I can make her love me, a voice whispered in the back of my head, and I agreed.

I could. No. I would.

Piper

My lipsstill tingled after the hot and heavy make-out session with the grouchy-looking biker. I lifted the tips of my fingers to my mouth and smiled at the soft reflection of myself in the mostly dark bathroom mirror. Thankfully, Hugo had found a candle booth and took a couple of the ones they hadn’t sold. The candle was in the sink, casting a soft light over me while I washed my face and glanced down at myself. The bright side about being stuck inside of a Christmas craft fair the size of this one was that there was a lot of goods to choose from. Including sleep pants. Matching ones Hugo had grabbed for us. I gently ran my fingers through my red curls hoping to calm the wildness in them, but I knew from a lifetime of experience that unless I had two hours to blow dry and straighten them, they didn’t have it in them to be tame. Not that I minded. I loved my curls.

“Does Hugo like curls?” I asked my reflection and rolled my eyes. Who cared if a guy who could kiss like the devil and make my brain shut off from overthinking liked my hair or not. My eyes dropped to my neck, and my lips parted. “Is that—" I started to say out loud, leaning forward, being careful of the candle in the sink. A hickey. A love bite. I straightened, my hand touchingthe spot his mouth had lavished attention on. Too much attention by the looks of it. Thankfully, Allie was in Colorado, hopefully with Winston, and not at home, or else I would never hear the end of how I had made out with a stranger.

But Hugo didn’t feel like a stranger.

I shook my head and sighed. Giving myself one last look in the mirror, I stepped out of the bathroom. I wasn’t even a little surprised to find Hugo leaning against the ball, with one leg crossed over the other. My lips quirked up at the sight of him. Still in that thin white tank top that showed off every muscle, ridge, and line of his upper body, highlighting his thick biceps and sinewy arms. But instead of the faded blue jeans he had been wearing all day, he was in a pair of Christmas pajama pants that matched my own.

“Cute,” he noted as his eyes roamed up and down my body.

“I was about to say the same thing,” I muttered, hoping it sounded flirty and kind of afraid it was a little dorky.

“Come on.” He reached for my hand before taking the candle from the other and walked us back to the spot he had set up for us.

The building was concrete and metal for the most part, but there was a side of it that had almost an entire wall of floor-to-ceiling windows. It was the area where the craft market had created a Santa’s village of sorts, with a huge gingerbread house and where there was an actual Santa so the kids could take pictures and tell him what they wanted for Christmas. The spot was surprisingly cute and cozy despite the pouring rain and fog building outside. We reached the spot where we had eaten dinner, and my eyes widened. I looked up at him.

“Did you do this?”

“No.” He shook his head. “My elves did,” he teased, and I giggled.

He’d created a makeshift bed for us. The TV we had taken from the stand next to his was still playing the crackling fire scene. LED candles flickered around the bed and pillows. His hand dropped from mine as he moved to set the candles on a table before blowing out the flames.

Hugo turned to look at me, and my heart fluttered in my chest. I wasn’t a virgin. Not even close. But for some reason, with the way he was looking at me as he stood there, his dark eyes laser-focused on me, making me feel like I was the only woman in the world who mattered, I felt a little bit like one. Like he could see everything inside me. The good and the bad, and for some reason, he still liked what he saw.

Not to mention just how seriously good he looked in that muscle shirt and flannel pajamas pants with gingerbread men and cookies printed all over them.

“Your elves, huh?” I grinned. I liked how silly he was. It made me feel a little better about what I had almost called him earlier.Daddy.I had no idea where that had come from. Maybe because he was older, even though how much, I wasn’t sure.

He nodded, and I watched as his hand rose and he scratched the back of his head. The movement only highlighted the muscles in his arms as the bunched and flexed. “I don’t want you to think I assumed we would sleep together. I can sleep in one of the chairs,” he offered. I stared at him for a moment before turning to look at the chairs we had been sitting on not only all day but when we ate dinner and then made out.

“Sleep sitting down?” I asked, confused. Maybe making out was all he wanted to do? He’d said he wasn’t married or had a girlfriend, but what if he had been lying? Or worse, what if by kissing me, he realized he just wasn’t that into me?

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