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Her hair was straight, feathering around her flushed face, her reddened lips. Her green eyes glowed. Her arms were stretched over her head as she and Rogue rocked with some leather-clad dancer on the dance floor, both of them laughing and weaving, swaying seductively as the men around them danced with them. Old, young—they had the whole fucking bar rocking. There were other women on the floor.
The women that ran with the bikers, dressed scantily, usually fighting. Not tonight. Tonight, they were dancing, and Janey was in the middle of it.
She tossed her head, shook her hips, and a vise tightened around his balls. She wasn’t wearing a bra.
She better be wearing panties.
That short black leather skirt flirted with the tops of fishnet stockings, and red fuck-me pumps graced her small feet.
And she was having fun.
Alex felt something clench in his chest, tighter than before. His guts felt twisted, his cock was a steel spike throbbing beneath his jeans, and his senses were so fucking scattered he didn’t know how to sort them out.
He’d seen Janey as sweet, vulnerable. Someone he had to protect from life and from himself. Hell, he’d never stop thinking that. But that was a woman on the dance floor, and every male instinct raging inside him warned him that if he didn’t take what belonged to him, then someone was going to take it away from him.
Tortured need clashed with the honor he had always demanded of himself. Dark, brutal, the memories of the past filtered through his brain as he watched her.
He’d almost loved once in his life. At twenty, two years after joining the Army. He was in Germany. His lover was an embassy liaison, and she had died in a back alley on her way home to her apartment. A victim of senseless violence. It hadn’t been terrorists. She hadn’t been a spy; she hadn’t known any secrets. She’d been raped and murdered, and left in a filthy back street.
And Alex had protected his heart ever since. It wasn’t just terrorism or betrayal that killed. Women died every day. Innocent deaths. Acts of God. In the snap of a finger all the happiness that could build inside a man could be snatched away just as easily.
He couldn’t let himself love. But he couldn’t walk away from the vision on that dance floor either.
Her green eyes shimmered between her dark, smoky lashes. Red lips curled with eager fun, not lust. Not invitation. Simple fun.
She bumped hips with Rogue before they turned and swayed with several other eager male dancers. She was laughing, keeping her distance; she wasn’t touching. She was excitement itself, and he was going to come in his jeans just watching her.
“Natches, leave her alone,” Chaya was ordering her husband behind him.
“Dammit, Chaya, they’re bikers,” Natches was arguing.
“She’s having fun, Natches. ”
Alex swallowed tight. He moved through the crowd, pushing his way past them, and headed to the dance floor as the band slid smoothly into a slow, sensual tune. Janey laughed and shook her head at the men around her, pointed to the bar, and turned to leave.
He caught her at the edge of the floor. His arm slid around her waist, pulling her against him as she stiffened.
“Dance with me, Janey. ” He lowered his lips to her ear, feeling her soften, feeling her body flow into his.
Alex turned her slowly, pulled her into his arms, and, staring down at her, jerked her hips to his before he began swaying with her.
It always amazed him, each time he had her in his arms, how tiny she was compared to him. A good six inches shorter even with heels, her curvy little body fragile against him. His hands cupped her hips, slid to her back. He wanted to crush her against him. Lift her up and carry her away. Touch her. Fill her with the hunger raging, dark and brutal, inside him.
“I couldn’t find you,” he whispered against her ear. “I was worried. ”
Her hands smoothed over his shoulders, as though she enjoyed touching him.
“I left all the lights off,” she murmured, letting her body stroke against his, caress him.
“You didn’t tell me about the lights. And you took a cab. ”
“I don’t drink and drive. ” Her hands ran over his black leather jacket.
“I’ll drive. ” He brushed her hair aside from her ear with his chin and tasted the lobe of her ear.
He heard her sharp intake of breath, felt her soften further against him.
“I want to go parking. ” Leaning back, her smile drowsy, her cheeks flushed, she gazed up at him with enough hunger to fry his brain. “I’ve never been parking. ”
