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So I think the beer was partly to blame for what I said next. The cocktail of emotions that I was feeling and the freedom that was wholly foreign to me also in play.
Oh, and because this man was hotter than Hades himself.
“I would like, very much,” I said, my voice breathy. “If you would have sex with me.”
I had not planned on those words coming out of my mouth. I did not know who was more shocked, me or the man in front of me. My face flamed with embarrassment and discomfort… for a hot second. Until the shock cleared from his face and his expression turned into pure lust.
My stomach dipped, and my skin burned with something other than embarrassment.
The man stepped forward so his body pressed into mine, hand moving to my chin to tilt it upward.
Desire pooled in my stomach at what I found in his eyes. No one had ever looked at me the way he was looking at me right now. Certainly not a man.
I didn’t know men looked at women like that in real life.
It was him branding me with a mere look. It was a promise of something that I wasn’t quite sure I was able to do.
“You came,” a deep gravelly voice exclaimed.
I struggled to tear my eyes from the hazel gaze that was driving me crazy, but I managed. On reflex, I’d tried to step away from the man in front of me. He caught my hips in his large and strong hands, pulling me so I collided with his body, his arm moving to tuck me into his shoulder.
It was an intimate move that should’ve felt odd since I was tucked into the shoulder of a stranger. His body was warm, his muscles hard, but I somehow found something soft. Something that felt natural. I leaned into him because I liked that, but also because his hand told me he wasn’t going to be letting me go any time soon.
I met gray eyes. Familiar gray eyes.
The man from the gas station, the man who had invited me here stood in front of us, casually holding a beer, eyes on me. Or more appropriately the hand on me.
“Swiss, I believe you need to get your hands off my date,” he said, eyes finding mine but quite obviously addressing the man whose shoulder I was tucked into.
Swiss.
Obviously a nickname. An odd one for a biker. I’d imagined they were all called Striker or Snake or something menacing and badass. Not that Swiss wasn’t badass. It was, just because it belonged to the dark, dark and impossibly handsome man beside me.
“Can’t do that, brother,” Swiss replied easily, holding me a little tighter. “Your own stupid fuckin’ fault for lettin’ her walk into this club alone. She’s mine now.”
My heart skipped a beat.
“She’s mine now.”
I should’ve found a lot of things wrong with their interaction. Two men talking about me as if I wasn’t even here. As if I were an object.
But somehow, it didn’t feel derogatory. I didn’t feel objectified. I felt… incredibly turned on. The masculine energy underpinning both of their casual tones seemed to make the air vibrate.
Both of them wanted me. They were making that very fucking clear.
Out of all of the women in this club, the much younger, much more scantily clad women, the two sexiest men in the room—which was really saying something—were essentially fighting over me.
Me.
“She’s mine now.”
The sentence vibrated in my head.
Gray eyes focused on me. “Now, we’re a little more progressive than all that,” he drawled. “We don’t declare ownership over women without them havin’ a say in it.”
“Speak for yourself, motherfucker,” Swiss said, voice throatier than before. “And she had plenty of say in the matter.” His head tilted downward, and my gaze drifted toward him like a magnet.
My entire body jolted when our eyes met.
