Page 20 of Her Demanding Biker
I’d always liked her feet.
Holding them in my hands.
Rubbing the arch with my fingers.
I was going to end up fucking my hand sooner rather than later.
I sat there in my chair, lowering my hands down until they were on my knees while I watched her.
“I… I don’t know what I’m doing here.”
A moment passed and she spoke again.
“In what I guess is your room.”
I had to smile at that.
She was feisty.
Outspoken in a way that she’d never been before.
“I figure we should talk.”
That last word seemed to fall like a weight between us.
She watched me, looking over me from head to toe. And I wondered if she saw what I did when I looked in the foxed mirror above my sink.
I was a little more muscular than I was when she met me. Time in the military outside of her father’s unit had put some bulk on me.
My hair was longer, taking on some curls when it became long enough to fall into my eyes.
And I’d gotten my share of white streaks. It had started when I left Arlys behind.
Maybe it was my body’s way of counting the days we’d been apart.
I really didn’t care much about the color of my hair and with one look you could tell that I wasn’t worried about styling my hair.
I didn’t even get it cut. It just grew free like the rest of my life since I’d patched in.
But I wondered what she thought of it.
She drew in a breath and let it out.
“You wanted to talk…”
I heard an edge in her voice.
“So talk.”
Shit.
I shook my head wondering where to start.
“Are you going to tell me why?”
I let out a breath.
“Why I want to talk?”
