Page 16 of Her Obsessed Biker
“I’m just saying, it’s not what I expected from a guy who threatened to break bones less than two hours ago.”
“That offer still stands, by the way,” he says without missing a beat. “If those Sons of Decimation punks show their faces again.”
I believe him.
We eat in silence for a while, and somehow it’s not awkward. It’s…easy. Grounding. Comfortable in a way I didn’t know was possible.
After we’ve cleared the table, and he’s loaded the dishwasher, I glance at him and say, “Thank you.”
He frowns. “For what?”
“For not letting me go tonight. For feeding me. For not turning me away after what happened with…Wolf.”
He looks at me for a long beat. Then his voice drops low, husky. “You think I could’ve let you leave? After tonight?”
I open my mouth to answer, but the words dissolve.
And before I can think, breathe, move, he’s there. Towering yet warm. He raises his hands to my face, gently tilting my chin up until I’m looking at him.
“I’ve wanted to do this since the second you walked into the bar,” he says.
And then he kisses me.
God, he kisses me.
It’s not gentle.
It’s not tentative.
It’s fire and steel and the softest devastation I’ve ever known.
His mouth claims mine, and I fall into it like it’s the only solid thing in my life. His hand cups the back of my neck, fingers threading through my hair, and I swear the floor shifts beneath me. Like gravity bends for this. For us.
And then he’s lifting me, his big hands gripping my hips and setting me on the table with zero effort. The cool surface hits the backs of my thighs, and then he’s stepping between my legs, crowding me in, claiming space like it’s his birthright.
His mouth crashes back onto mine, and this time there’s nothing tentative about it.
It’s fire.
Dark. Demanding. Delicious.
His tongue sweeps in to taste me, sliding against mine in slow, deliberate strokes that make my toes curl. I moan into his mouth, unable to help it, and his answering growl vibrates through my whole body. The kiss turns frantic, greedy, like we’re both starving. Like we’ve waited too long and now the dam’s finally breaking.
His hands skim up under my shirt, fingers splaying across my lower back, dragging me closer to the edge of the table. His heat is everywhere, between my thighs, on my skin, in my lungs.
“Rock…” I whisper, my breath hitching.
“Say it again.”
“Rock,” I repeat, sounding more desperate this time.
His mouth trails down, brushing hot kisses along my jaw, then lower to the curve of my neck. He bites. Not hard. Just enough to leave heat blooming under the skin. I gasp and cling tighter to his shoulders, nails digging into muscle.
“Fuck,” he mutters against my throat. “You taste so sweet. You smell like heaven and trouble and fuck me if I care about either.”
His words slide down my spine like warm whiskey, igniting everything in their path.
“I want to touch you,” he says, raising his eyes to mine even as his hand hovers above the zipper of my jeans.
