Page 19 of Her Daddy Biker

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Which is crazy. I’ve known the guy for less than two days.

But when I think about the roads clearing, about going back to my regular life, my chest gets tight. Like the thought of leaving him actually hurts.

I comb my fingers through my hair and head out to find my biker daddy.

Something amazing is cooking. Garlic and herbs, I think. My stomach growls loudly. I follow the scent and find Havoc at the stove, focused on what he’s making.

He’s changed into a dark Henley this time. The rolled-up sleeves display the tattoos on his corded forearms. His rough, mountain man beauty is almost overwhelming. All that thick black hair threaded with silver, his gray eyes, that strong nose, his full lips, the manly scruff on his jaw. His massive height and build. He’s so freaking sexy… I don’t even know what he sees in plain old me. What will happen when the storm clears… I shake myself out of my grim thoughts. Nope, not going there. I’ll soak up every second I can get with this fascinating man, then quietly return to my plain life.

“Smells amazing,” I chirp with forced cheerfulness.

He turns, and his eyes do that slow sweep over me that makes my insides flutter. “You look good in my clothes, angel.”

My face heats. “They’re too big for me.”

“I like it.” His voice drops. “Like seeing you in my things. Having you in my house. My space.”

Havoc turns off the burner, sets down the spatula he was using to stir, and steps in front of me, sliding a large, warm handaround my waist. My pussy spasms, my clit tingles, my nipples are hard points, my heart swells in my chest, and my brain melts.

“W… what are you making?” I ask, staring up into his steely eyes.

“Pasta. Figured you’d be hungry.” He leans, bringing his face to my level, and runs the tip of his nose along the side of my face. I’m dead. Fucking done for. Put a freaking fork in it. My heart squeezes: what am I gonna do when I can no longer stand this close to him? Have his warmth, his scent, his overwhelming handsomeness surrounding me.

He presses a kiss at my temple and returns to the stove.

I lean against the counter, watching him work. Big, beautiful, at ease. A pure badass who can wreck a girl, wash her hair, and feed her. Lord help my poor heart.

I turn my gaze to look around and hopefully stop fanning over Havoc. Everything in his kitchen is high-end, from the appliances to the knife set that probably costs more than my share of the rent for my shitty apartment. And don’t even get me started on the marble countertops, beautiful wood cabinets and floors.

“Your place is incredible.”

He turns his head my way, his sexy lips hooking up on one side. “Thank you, baby. I like my comfort. And I can afford it. Lawson Construction is doing well. And I invested smart when I got out of the military.”

“You were in the military?” And I thought he was fascinating before. How many layers does this man have? I stare at his profile, eating up his words, basking in the deep rumble of his voice, craving to know everything about him. Anything he’ll share.

“Yes, angel. For fifteen years. I got out five years ago.” He plates the pasta with practiced ease. “Army paid for business school, and I used my savings to start the company.”

“And the cabin?”

“Built it with my crew.”

Wow, this isn’t just some rich guy’s toy - it’s a home he created with his own hands.

“Come on,” he says, handing me a plate. “Let’s eat.”

We settle at the kitchen island. The pasta is incredible. Fresh herbs, real Parmesan, delicious sauce.

“This is amazing,” I tell him between bites, trying not to moan around my food.

“Good. You need to keep your strength up.”

He smiles. Soft, warm, reassuring. Giving me the strength to ask. “Havoc…”

“Yes, angel?”

“What happens when the storm clears?”

He sets his fork down, giving me his full attention. “What do you want to happen?”