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But my mind couldn't seem to think to be bothered about that, just pleased that my hands were free to rise, slide up Virgin's strong arms, curl around the back of his neck, an action that nearly lifted me off my feet, forcing my body to plaster to his as his lips pressed harder, demanded more.
A low, throaty whimper escaped me as my lips slipped open, inviting his tongue to move inside and claim mine.
The hands left my jaw, disappearing for a long second before sinking into my ass, dragging me up and off my feet as his teeth nipped my lower lip hard enough to drag a moan from deep inside.
It was a car horn and cheering that broke the spell, making my body jolt in a much less intoxicating way than the last time. My hands planted on his shoulders and pushed until he settled me back down on my own feet, but pressed me back against the wall. As if he knew my legs were feeling just a tad wobbly.
I pulled in a deep breath that made my chest shake as Virgin suddenly started to lower down, his head level with my crotch.
"What are you doing?" I hissed, wanting to sound horrified, but there was definite heat in my tone.
At the sound, his head tilted up, lips curved, eyes bright with what I could only call masculine pride. I couldn't even fault him for it. He'd earned it.
"Might be a one-percenter, baby, but I don't litter," he told me, lifting his hand to show me the takeaway coffee cup that had fallen from my hand, the lid bent in, coffee saturating the thick paper outside.
Then he slowly - and there is a definite emphasis on the slowly - moved back to his feet, his gaze staying level with my crotch, my belly, my breasts, then my face for what felt like minutes each before he finally moved away to toss my cup where he had discarded his, giving me a second to shake some sense back into myself, trying to calm the chaos of desire coursing through my body.
I pushed off the wall, ready to try to act like I had it together even as the pressure on my belly all but assured me that I would go through an entire pack of batteries later without any real relief.
Virgin turned back, stooped again, this time coming back with my shoes which he clicked together and held at the heels in one hand, his other going to my lower back again. Possessive. Maybe even a little protective.
Or was that my wishful thinking?
Wouldn't it be strange - and wonderful - to actually find a man who wanted to protect me instead of, well, the exact opposite.
I shook my head, not wanting those thoughts. Not now. Not when they could easily sour a sweet moment.
"So, you gonna let me see you again?" he asked as we walked into the yard of the compound, moving over toward the long line of glistening bikes settled at the side.
Glistening because they'd just been washed.
By, it seemed, the guy who had kissed my hand at the party.
West.
"Hey, pretty lady," he called, wiping some sweat off his brow with the back of his heavily tattooed arm, giving me one of those smiles that women would be hard-pressed to find a better way to describe other than panty melting.
I, however, seemed suddenly immune.
"Hey West," I greeted him with a small smile. And it wasn't until my shoulder brushed his chest that I realized I had moved closer to Virgin as I spoke to his brother. "How are you?"
"Oh, slaving away for these schmucks," he said, waving a hand toward the bikes.
"Hey, at least you don't have to clean the bathroom with your toothbrush," I told him, knowing the horror of that from my adolescence. My aunt was many things, and one of those was a complete and utter neat freak. When she took us in, there was no longer a need to pay for her twice-weekly housekeeper. Why, when she had three sets of hands that could provide free labor?
"You have clearly not been inside to see the bathrooms. Yes, plural. Because Reign is an evil bastard, each of those bedrooms in there has its own bathroom. And since I am the only probie, I am stuck cleaning them all. The horror I have seen," he said, shaking his head solemnly.
"Sugar still here?" Virgin asked, his hand leaving the center of my lower back and out to my hip, fingers curling in.
"Yep."
"Tell him I will be back later to take over your schedule."
"How much later?" West asked, eyes dancing, lips curled up. There was no mistaking the innuendo there.
"None of your business, prospect. Isn't there a SUV you should be washing too?" Virgin asked pointedly, leading me over toward his bike, handing me the helmet with his free hand, seeming like he refused to let his hold of me go until West walked away.
