Page 41 of At the Edge of Surrender

“You ever ride on a bike before?”

“Once,” she whispered in that sultry voice. One I doubted she had the first clue went straight to my dick.

“And you mean to tell me it wasn’t your favorite thing you’ve ever done?” I tried to instill as much lightness into it as I could find. But it was difficult when I was looking at her like this.

The way I felt all fucked up at the sight of her.

This clashing toil of wanting to glut and devour, get lost in that tight little body, all while I had the overwhelming urge to wrap her up to protect it.

Shield her from whatever haunted those gorgeous eyes.

Had never had a reaction like this to a woman before. Not once. Hadn’t even known it was possible.

Sure, the woman was stunning.

This riot of staggering, rare beauty.

I’d be a liar if I said it didn’t take everything I had not to reachout and run my fingers through that lush fall of blonde hair. Soft, wavy locks, a shimmery gold woven with streaks of bronze.

It skimmed over her bare shoulders and arms that were exposed by the dressy pink tank top she wore. The neckline V’d and ridged in scalloped lace, the straps thin and accentuating her delicate angles.

It was tucked into the fitted jeans she wore. Jeans that hugged the slight flare of her hips.

Every line of that face defined, a carving of beauty, her jaw rigid and held in her sweet volatility.

My stomach twisted with the way those pink, plump lips looked like someone had just kissed the fuck out of her.

Swollen and ripe.

I itched, overcome with a swell of possession.

The errant thought hitting me that I wanted every single one of those kisses to belong to me.

So wayward and faulty that I had no clue what the fuck had come over me.

But more than all of that?

It was the energy she emitted that had me trapped. This thing that made me feel like she was supposed to be right here, right now.

“No, not my favorite thing.” Her voice was shaky and shallow.

I let a grin hitch the edge of my mouth. “Trust me, beautiful, I’m about to change that.”

Anticipation twisted my guts in a fist of greed when Emery took three tentative steps forward as she mumbled, “You’re awfully confident.”

“Simply know what I have to offer.”

Mostly the way I wanted to make that body come alive in a thousand different ways.

Watch her glow and shine.

Wipe the fear away.

She approached my bike like it might reach out and bite her.

I stretched out a hand, trying to remind myself that getting her alone wasn’t what this was about.

This was going back to the questions she evoked when she’d shown up at my door. Questions it felt critical to get the answers to.

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