Page 2 of Marked By the Possessive Biker

Her mouth drops. She looks to each side of her down the long sidewalk and then back at me. “What the hell, Boss? You want to chit-chat? What’s going on here?”

I clench my eyes shut. It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell her that I want her and I can’t stop thinking of her, but I don’t say any of that. “I just need to know you’re okay, that’s all.”

Her mouth drops, but she recovers quickly. “I’m sorry. You need to know that I’m okay?”

I nod, not even trying to hide the worry on my face.

She crosses her arms again. “So I just want to make sure I understand. We met, we talked, I thought there was something between us. I go to see you, and you told me that I was foolish to think you’d be happy with some virgin and I could never be a woman you would want.” She stops and blows out a rough breath. “And so now, what? You want to make sure I’m okay after all that?” She throws her head back with a fake laugh. “Yeah, Boss, I’m fine. Peachy, in fact.”

“Stop,” I tell her, even though it’s too late. I’ve relived that night a thousand times in my head, and it makes me physically sick every time. I hurt her, and it was the last thing I wanted to do, but at the time, I thought it was what needed done. If only my straightlaced brother hadn’t thought it would be fun to bring his then girlfriend and her best friend to see me at the club.

She holds her hands up. “No, you stop. Obviously you feel guilty for what you said to me, and you shouldn’t. You were only saying what you felt?—”

“Princess,” I plead.

She shakes her head. “Let me finish. You were just telling me the truth, and even though it hurt then, I appreciate it now. I mean, I’m not a virgin?—”

I tense, widening my stance, really wishing I’d beaten down Mr. Khaki now. “What the fuck?”

She rolls her eyes. “Like I was saying, I’m not a virgin, but I understand the sentiment. You want someone with experience, and that I don’t have a lot of. We’re obviously not compatible, so technically you saved me before my heart got too involved.”

She tosses her hair over her shoulder. “So is that what you’re looking for? You want forgiveness?” She shrugs. “You got it. You’re forgiven. Now can I go back in and finish studying?”

“Lexi, please.”

I’m not sure what I’m pleading for, but I hate the indifference that is rolling off her. I’d rather her scream and cuss at me than get this. She claps her hands together. “Please, what?”

2

LEXI

I’m waiting for him to answer me, and for all appearances, I seem cool, calm, and collected even though I’m not any of those things.

My heart is racing, my nipples are hard, and there’s a pull in my lower belly. Why? I want to scream it at the top of my lungs. Why am I still attracted to him? I should hate him and want nothing to do with him, but every time I see him, my body betrays me.

I’m determined to keep up my aloof, indifferent front even if it kills me. I’m not sure what Boss Dalton is doing here, but I do know that I cannot show him any weakness. I may not be a virgin, but if you compare my experience with his, it’s laughable.

I wait for him to answer me, and when he doesn’t, I put a hand on my hip and impatiently point toward my dorm. “Are we done? I’m supposed to be studying.”

He steps up onto the sidewalk, halving the distance between us. He smells of leather and that scent that I can only describe as him, and his voice drops a whole octave. “Studying with him? Mr. Khaki?”

I lift my chin at him, ready to tell him it’s none of his business, but I’m silent as I look at him. And this time, I look past the cocky biker that most people are scared of. This time, I measure him with a look, and he’s practically begging me with his eyes. I stutter and instantly regret that he has this kind of hold on me. “Yes, I’m studying with Carl.”

He grits his teeth and leans his head down so we’re eye to eye. “Do you let him touch you?”

With possession in his eyes, I’m scared to answer him. He looks almost unhinged as he waits for my response. “Do you let him touch you?” he repeats, enunciating each word.

I refuse to back down or show any kind of weakness. “It’s none of your business what I do and who I do it with. I’ve eased your conscience—yes, you hurt me, but I’m fine. I’ve moved on, so can you leave now?”

“What if I haven’t moved on?”

I’m stunned by his confession. I open my mouth to argue with him and then slam it shut. For just a second, I let myself imagine dating Ben and spending time with him, and then it hits me. I glare up at him. “You want to fuck me.”

I don’t ask the question, I say it plain and simple. He wants to have sex with me, that’s all this is. This isn’t about relieving his conscience; it's about sex. Before he can say a word, I hold a hand up. “At one time, I would have taken you up on it. Heck, I dreamed of having you bend me over your bike…” I let my voice trail off and then catch myself before I get too caught up in the past. “But not now. I don’t do one-night stands, booty calls, or whatever it is you want.”

He takes the last step, and he’s towering over me. My heart is racing, my breath hitches, and I have to force myself to focus on anything except his lips. He doesn’t touch me, but he might as well. He’s so close, it’s like I can feel him everywhere. “We would be explosive together.”

I could kiss him. I’ve had dreams about kissing this man, and I could give him my mouth right now and see if the real thing feels anything like I imagine it would, but before I can act on it, my sense of survival kicks in. Kissing Ben is not something I will recover from. He has the capability to destroy me, and if I give in to him, he will. He will not only fuck me, but he will break my heart in the process.

---