Page 11 of Falling for the Biker
“Youaretrouble.” Muttering the words, he slides one of his hands between my thighs to feed into this hunger he’s created. His fingers press against the crease of my jeans, tracing the outline in a way that makes my breath catch.
His eyes lock on mine, watching every flicker of pleasure on my face as he rubs me through.
A sharp, broken whimper escapes my throat. I am molten, utterly lost in the sensation. A part of me wants to just shove his hand inside so I can feel his fingers directly, but the tease of his touch makes my body hum with delight.
“Fuck, Ruby,” he rasps, his voice thick with need. His fingers press down firmer, and I grind against his hand, a shameless, frantic rhythm. “I can feel you. Soaked through for me.”
My eyes screw shut as I concentrate on the pressure, all while nodding my head.
Losing myself in our next shared kiss, I’m left panting against his tongue before the pleasure becomes too much. Hips jerking, I feel the wetness soak the layers as I come from the friction alone.
He smiles like the devil, proud of his evil doings. Right now, he’s got me in the mindset of going up to his home and handing my innocence on a platter. Even more now that I can feel the rock hard proof of his arousal brushing up against me with each shift.
“You’re unreal.” Muttering the words under his breath, his thumb swipes across my swollen bottom lip.
“I thought I was trouble.” Catching myself smiling, I’m surprised he doesn’t kiss me again, especially when he stares at my mouth like he wants to.
Scoffing under his breath, he pulls away and snags my duffel bag from the ground. “Come get settled. You’ve had a long day.”
That’s an understatement. If my legs weren’t shaky from what he’d just done, they’d be wobbling from all the weight I’ve been carrying.
While he lets me start the climb first, he’s patient with each step. Somehow, I make it all the way to the top.
His home is built like a studio apartment, and the smell of bleach lingers in the air. Already catching myself wonderingwhy,I decide it’s better to leave some questions unanswered.
“Shower is that way, and I’ll change the sheets. You can take the bed, the floor is mine.” Rubbing the back of his neck, he stares at his home like he’s seeing it for the first time, too. “Sounds good?”
“No.” The word slips past my lips without thinking. “I mean, you shouldn’t have to sleep on the floor. The bed is pretty big. Enough room for two people.”
I can’t have this guy messing up his back out of the kindness of his heart. How can he be at his top form if I make him lie against hardwood flooring?
Just the thought of him getting his arms around me, his hands against my body… even in a friendly manner, is too good to give up such an opportunity.
He nods, not putting up even the slightest fight. It’s hard to stifle the sound of amusement that comes because of him.
As exhausted as I feel, I do need a shower. Tomorrow, I’m supposed to return to work and pretend everything is going to be okay while Diesel works in the background. Unsure of how long this is all going to take, a part of me dreads what’ll happen after everything is said and done.
Will this biker be done with me, just like that?
What happened in the stairwell isn’t something I’d just do with anyone.
My lips still feel tender, slightly swollen. A ghost of a sensation that makes my stomach flutter even now.
Does Diesel understand that? Does he know that kiss felt like the beginning of something new, and not just a moment of heat? Even if he does know, does it make a difference to a man like him? Or am I just a complication, a moment of weakness in a high-stakes situation?
The questions are a cold splash of reality, dousing the embers he’d ignited. The heat that had coiled low in my belly now twists into a sharp, aching knot of longing. I want to go back to five minutes ago, when the only thing that existed was the space between our mouths.
With that thought dampening the earlier fire, I take my bag from him. My fingers brush against his, and the brief contact is a spark that threatens to rekindle everything. I don’t dare look at him. If I see my own longing reflected in his eyes, I’ll be lost. If Isee nothing but cool indifference, I’ll start to regret stepping into this shop.
“Thanks,” I murmur, my voice barely a whisper.
I escape to the bathroom, locking the door behind me and leaning against it for a moment, my heart a frantic drum against my ribs. I need to let the hot water wash away the fear, the grime of the day, and the frustrating, beautiful, terrifying hope that clings to my skin as stubbornly as his scent.
Only then will I be able to convince myself that everything will be okay.
* * *
My feet hurt. Like, really hurt. Each step toward the employee-only area is a small protest in itself.
