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Boss leaned in. I lifted onto my toes to meet him in the middle as he whispered a single word in my ear.
“Jag.”
I dropped back on my heels, my brow pulled together. “I don’t understand.”
Boss huffed out a dry laugh and stared at his scuffed biker boots, the only thing I’d seen him wear that wasn’t’ shiny and new. “My name. It’s Jag. Mick Jagger Bosman, if you can believe it. My mom had a thing for rock stars.”
“Jag,” I repeated, testing his name out loud, loving how it felt rolling off my tongue.
I glanced back up at those intense blue eyes and gasped. Boss, Jag, looked… uncertain? Was he actually worried about my reaction to his name? The fact that I had that much power sent sparks of heat racing up my spine. Pleasure shot straight to my core and it clenched with need.
“I love it.” I winked and gave him a grin.
The nervous man in front of me relaxed and his shoulders dropped. The tight expression on his handsome face disappeared. Jag released my hand and gently tapped my nose with a finger.
“Don’t tell anyone. If my men found out I’m named after one of the Rolling Stones, I’d never hear the end of it.” Jag rolled his eyes. “My last name is Bosman. It’s why they call me Boss Man. I prefer that to Jag any day of the week.”
I laughed. “No one knows?”
He shrugged. “Milo might know. Maybe the others know, but if they do, they know not to call me Jag to my face.” Jag scowled and I caught a brief glimpse of his darker side, a reminder of how dangerous he was. One blink later, it was gone.
“Well, Jag. I think I’d like that ride now.” A filthy image of me riding Jag’s cock flashed through my mind.
That would be heaven, but I’ll settle for a ride on your bike instead.
Jag put a hand on the countertop on either side of my hips and trapped me against the sink. He was so much taller than me, he had to bend down pretty far for his mouth to hover above mine. I wasn’t sure if I whimpered out loud, but I could have cared less at that point. Internally, I was begging for Jag to kiss me, to press that huge, hot, hard body against mine, to lift me onto the counter, devour my mouth, and sink his cock deep inside my aching, empty pussy.
Once more, I faced disappointment. Jag pushed off the sink and held out a hand. “Let’s go for that ride, doll.”
Jag handed me a shiny red helmet and a black leather jacket that was several sizes too big. He quickly put on his own gear. While I dressed, Jag texted someone. By the time I was done struggling into the massive jacket, I found Jag standing in front of the three incredible machines, all parked in a perfect row.
“Which one, doll? Your choice.”
My eyes nearly popped out of my head at his offer. I flicked my gaze back and forth between the expensive bikes and Jag. I waited for the punch line to the joke. Nope, not a joke. Jag’s expression was sincere and slightly amused.
I stumbled over my words. “You… you’re letting me pick?”
Jag’s eyes lit up and he pursed his lips. “Of course I am. So…” He walked over to the first bike, the classic Suzuki. “What’ll it be, doll? The rare racer?” Jag backed up, gaze never leaving mine, until he was next to the bright red Ducati. “The Superbike?” Jag stroked the gorgeous lines of the bike as one would caress a lover. My heart stuttered and my stomach fluttered at the sight of his hands gliding across the surface. Next, Jag moved to the black and green Ninja. “Or the barely street legal sports bike?” My eyes were focused on his thick fingers as they danced down the curves of the last motorcycle.
I walked over to the bikes with a smirk on my face and swung my hips side to side. If he wanted to play games, I could easily get onboard with that. I repeated Jag’s movements and danced my fingers over each machine as I approached the man at the end of the row. I purposely bit my bottom lip and silently cheered as Jag’s eyes zeroed in on my mouth. His neck flushed with desire and his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. I didn’t stop until we were standing a few inches apart and our bodies nearly touched once more. I rubbed and caressed the cool surface of the Ninja.
“The most dangerous one, of course.” I used my chin to point toward the Kawasaki.
Jag gave me a crooked grin. “I knew you would pick that one. You seem to attract danger, doll.”
I licked my lips. “I don’t attract it, I love it.” I had no idea where these words were coming from. I wasn’t a “live on the edge” kind of girl, despite the drug addiction Mason all but forced on me.
Jag stepped closer and wrapped an arm around my waist to pull me close. “I think you are danger.” The low rumble in his chest combined with the lust-filled look in his eyes made my insides ignite with desire, the blistering heat searing my body.
“Here you go, Boss!”
With a startled yelp, I leapt out of Jag’s arms. He scowled as one of his Men in Black crossed the garage, a pair of red cowboy boots in his hand. Jag snatched them from the man and growled.
“Thanks. Now git.”
Damn, Jag did not appreciate his time with me being interrupted, which was so damn hot. Just like the hint of Texas drawl he let out from time to time.
The man’s eyes went wide and he turned and got the hell out of the garage as fast as he could. The whip-like snap of Jag’s nasty temper was a stark reminder that as charming as he was at times, he was still a vicious man you didn’t want to cross.
