Page 59 of Spock’s Snare

Spock climbs off and offers me his hand. His expression is unreadable, but there’s a deliberate glint in his eyes that sends warmth curling through my belly.

“My truck is over there.”

“I know where your truck is.”

“Then why are we here?”

He steadies me as I dismount, keeping his hands on my waist even after both my feet are safely on the ground.

“Because it’s late, you’ve had a long day, and I’m not ready for tonight to end.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE: SPOCK

Chloe’s arms tighten around my waist as I guide the bike away from 1% and merge into the flow of traffic crawling along the Strip.

The city flashes around us in streaks of gold, red, and electric blue, but I barely notice any of it. All my attention is focused on the woman pressed against my back.

Her thighs hug my hips. Her breasts rest against my leather kutte, and every time I accelerate, she squeezes me. I can feel her warmth through our clothes, and the sensation sends a current through my body that has nothing to do with the engine's vibration.

I’ve had women on the back of my bike before, but none of them have ever felt like this.

Chloe doesn’t feel like a passenger. She feels like she belongs there, wrapped around me. She trusts me, which is a problem, because I don’t want to take her where she wants to go.

Her truck is parked at the Inferno Ridge site across the highway from the clubhouse. It’s late, but the site is secured and well-lit. I could drop her off, wait until she’s safely inside her truck, then follow her home. That was the plan. It’s also the last thing I want to do.

Tonight has been too damn good. We had an excellent meal at Cerberus. I loved listening to her talk about learning a trade from her father and then discovering her passion. Watching her eyes light up as she described construction like it’s the purest form of art instead of a down-and-dirty job.

I don’t want the night to end with a quick kiss beside her truck. So, by the time the desert engulfs us, I’ve made my decision. Instead of turning toward Inferno Ridge, I head for the clubhouse.

Chloe notices immediately. Her hands shift against my stomach, but she doesn’t pull away. She stays wrapped around me until I park near the clubhouse entrance and shut off the engine.

The sudden silence feels louder than the ride.

I climb off before helping her dismount. My hands settle at her waist, lingering after both her feet are on the ground. Her dress hugs every curve, and for a second, every word I planned disappears.

Chloe glances toward the clubhouse, then across the highway. “My truck is over there.”

“I know.”

Her gaze returns to mine, questioning.

I force myself to say it plainly. “I want you to spend the night with me.”

Her lips part, but no answer comes.

My heart pounds like I’m facing down an armed enemy instead of asking a woman to come upstairs with me. I’ve never been nervous about inviting a woman into my bed. Then again, I’ve never cared this much about her response.

Doubt flickers in Chloe’s eyes.

I immediately release her waist and step back. “You don’t have to. I’m not going to pressure you.” I nod toward Inferno Ridge. “I’ll take you to your truck.”

I reach for the helmet, but Chloe steps into me.

Her hand curls around the front of my kutte, and before I can ask what she’s doing, she rises onto her toes and presses her lips to mine.

The kiss is soft at first. Tentative. Then I cup the back of her neck, and she opens for me. The taste of her hits me like the first pull of top-shelf whiskey—warm, smooth, and instantly addictive.

When she draws back, her lips brush mine as she whispers, “Yes.”