His eyes bore into mine for a moment before he grips my hips and picks me up enough to move me out of the way. The way hetouches me feels like a brand. I hate the absence of his touch the moment he lets go of me. Then he’s ripping open the door and scowling at his brother.
Whiskey holds his hands up, a smile playing on his lips as his eyes dart between Ryker and me. “Sorry, Prez,” he doesn’t sound all that sorry, “for interrupting. Sidewinder filled me in. I’m here to grab Ezra’s camera to see if I can use the photos that she took to help us figure out what’s going on.”
Ryker nods as my heartrate picks up. My camera? I mean, I don’t think he’ll harm it, but that doesn’t mean I want to hand it over.
When my big biker turns toward me, I already know by the look in his eyes that putting up any kind of fight will be useless. I shuffle over to where Ryker put my bag down and pull out my camera. Without a word, I extend it toward Whiskey.
He doesn’t take it right away and when I meet his eyes, he promises, “I’ll take good care of it.”
The kindness in his eyes has a lump forming in my throat for some reason. I have to swallow hard if I have any chance of my voice not cracking.
“I’m sure you will,” I reassure him with a smile.
Whiskey does that man chin lift thing with Ryker and then he’s gone. I wring my hands together and can feel how warm my cheeks are.
“Why are you blushing like that?”
Ryker’s question has me spinning in his direction. “Uh,” I try and stall before blurting out, “no reason. I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
He just looks at me. His gray eyes bore into me, and I can feel myself cracking. I shouldn’t be this weak, shouldn’t crumble so easily, but it’s like I can’t help it.
“If he looks through all my pictures, he’s going to find a few of you,” the words tumble out of me.
My hands come up to cover my mouth. I’m mortified. I did not just say that.
The next thing I know, Ryker has wrapped his arms around me and is hauling me flush against his chest. His lips meet mine with a kind of needy desperation that takes me completely by surprise. When I gasp, his tongue slides into my mouth.
I melt against him, my hands skimming up his chest, along the edge of his leather cut, until I can wrap my arms around his neck.
Ryker, the president of the Saint’s Outlaws Motorcycle Club, is kissing me.
And I’m kissing him back.
Nothing has ever felt so right.
CHAPTER 8
RYKER
Fuck me.
Her lips are so damn soft. As my tongue tangles with hers our kiss starts to take on an edge of desperation. But I’m sure as fuck not going to push her or use the chemistry between us, which even she can’t deny existing, to get her into bed. Not yet.
Later?
You better fucking believe I’m going to capitalize on the way her body melts against me. Our bodies are pressed so closely together that I can feel her hard nipples pressing into my chest. I want to wrap my lips around them and suck until she’s a mess and begging for my cock.
We’re both panting when I pull back; it’s the most difficult thing I’ve ever done in my life.
My phone goes off, but I already know it’s an update and if it was urgent then they’d be at my door. That’s just how it is. Would I want to kill them because I finally have my hands on my woman?
Yes, but I wouldn’t. Not kill them anyway.
“You took photos of me?” My voice breaks slightly as I ask the question, something washing over me that feels an awful lot like hope.
“Maybe, one or two?” The way she looks up at me from underneath her lashes and poses it more like a question than an answer has a smile growing on my lips, slow and sure of something that has my heart pounding in my chest.
Ezra Lyons wants me.
