Page 19 of Single Mom's Bikers

“No.” The word comes too quickly. “Stay.”

She settles at the small desk I put in my office last week, close enough that I catch every shift of her body. Every breath. The scratch of her pen on paper fills the silence.

“How long have you owned this place?” she asks after a while.

“Five years.” I lean back, grateful for the distraction from memories of last night. “Chase needed somewhere legitimate to work. Zane needed direction. I needed…”

“A purpose?”

Something in her tone makes me look up. She watches me with those green eyes that see too much.

“Something like that.”

“And the Black Wolves?”

My muscles tense. “What about it?”

“Just curious.” She stands, moving to examine the photos on my wall. “Three brothers are running a successful business that’s respected in town. There’s got to be a story there.”

“Not much to tell.” I join her by the wall, closer than I should. “Life gave us choices. We made them.”

“Simple as that?” She turns, and suddenly there’s barely space between us.

“Nothing’s simple.” Especially not the way her breath catches when I lean closer.

“Rick…”

This kiss is different from our first. No surprise, no hesitation.

My hands slide lower, gripping her thighs. When I lift her against the wall, she wraps her legs around my waist instantly. The friction is maddening, her body fitting against mine like it was made for this.

The dress rides up, revealing her soft and inviting skin. My fingers skim along her bare thigh, tracing the line of her stockings until they meet warm, silken flesh.

I press closer, grinding against her core, and the sound she makes—half gasp, half moan—shoots straight to my cock.

“Rick, please?—”

Her voice is a plea, raw and desperate, and it ignites something feral in me. My hand slides between us, slipping under the hem of her dress and pushing her panties aside.

She’s already wet, slick heat meeting my fingers as I find her clit and rub slow, deliberate circles. Her body jerks at the contact, her breath hitching as her nails dig into my shoulders.

“You like that?” I murmur, my voice rough against her ear.

She can’t answer, only nodding as her hips buck against my hand, chasing the friction. Her head falls back against the wall, exposing the curve of her throat. I take the opportunity to press my lips there, sucking lightly until her soft moans fill the space between us.

“Rick…oh God…”

I’m losing myself in her, in the way her body responds to every touch, every stroke. Her thighs tremble around me, and I know she’s close, so fucking close?—

A phone rings, shrill and demanding.

She stiffens in my arms. “I have to?—”

“Let it ring.” I nip at her collarbone, right where that tattoo peeks out.

“It’s my daughters’ school,” she says as she unwraps her legs. “I have to answer.”

“How’d you know it’s them?”

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