Page 8 of The Biker's Last Rodeo
That’s dangerous.
I’ve got a job to do. A killer to hunt, two lives to avenge, yet I’m out here playing with my food, when I should’ve eaten her hours ago.
I pull back just enough to look at her. Her lips parted, her eyes half-opened, her hair spilling down and shining in the last golden rays of the sun.
My hand rests on her throat. “You ready to play by the rules?”
I keep giving her chances like they’re owed to her. I need to get a grip.
She grins slow and wide, her gaze meeting mine. “I’m ready for whatever you’ve got, cowboy.”
The grin stays, reckless and wild, hitting me harder than the kiss did. She’s not bluffing. She’s not scared. She wants me to push her. She’s daring me, which only gets me harder.
I drag my thumb along the curve of her throat, slow and deliberate, her pulse jumping beneath my touch, but she doesn’t flinch.
“You sure?” I ask, voice low. “Because once we start, I don’t stop halfway.”
She leans in, just enough to close the space between us. Her voice is nearly a whisper as she says, “Then don’t.”
And just like that, the last thread of restraint I’ve been clinging to snaps.
I sink in close, crowding her against the post, one hand braced beside her head, the other still resting lightly on her throat, my lips on hers, harder, devouring.
Fuck.
Her tongue twists against mine, and a slight moan escapes.
“You’re a naughty little bunny, aren’t you? You’ve been running all over the place, spying on me.” My tone is low andhusky against her ear as my palm drags down over her thick curves.
I settle on her round breasts for a pulse, then continue down beneath her sundress, onto her thighs. She moans in my ear as though she likes where I’m headed, so I palm over her soaking panties and rub.
If I don’t get control over myself, I’ll bend her over right here and teach her every fucking lesson I haven’t listed out yet. Like how to beg for my cock. How to hold eye contact when I’m spreading her wide. How to edge until I give her permission to come.
Lord, I’m not going to make it.
My cock aches and presses against the inside leg of my jeans as her soft fingers flex for space.
“I want you so bad,” she moans. “I’ve wanted you since I watched you clean that gun in Texas. You were at a table, drinking a beer, sliding the barrel back into place.”
“Really?”
“Yeah,” she grins, her eyes soft, “it was so hot. Your forearms were flexing and there was this quiet intensity about the way you were working. Ugh, I went back to the hotel that night and,” a smirk spreads onto her face, “I thought about you.”
Fuck.
“Bunny,” I growl lowly in her ear, watching her body shake as I slide one, then two fingers inside of her slick folds, “you’re trouble. So much fucking trouble.”
“Yeah?” she pants, grinding up against my touch. “You love it. You want this little virgin pussy more than you’ve ever wanted anything, don’t you?”
Virgin?
The words hit me like a knockout punch. Like a fall straight down off a mile high cliff. Nothing about this woman screams innocent. She’s mouthy, straight-forward, and I’d guessshe wouldn’t back down from a bar fight with a bear and two full-grown men.
My cock grows harder. How the fuck is this pretty little thing a virgin?A virgin.
I thrust my fingers in deeper, salivating at the thought of being the first to sink into her little frame. Holy fuck, I want that. I want that more than anything. I want to claim her. I want to make her mine. But as much as that fantasy turns me on, I’m a broken asshole who’s still chasing demons, ghosts from the past. I can’t drag her into that life.
What the fuck am I doing?
