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My heart raced as Kim tugged me to our table. I felt his fiery gaze on my back, smelled the smoke as it engulfed my dress—searing my skin. He was nothing short of a raging bonfire like at the parties I used to attend back in high school.
Dangerous. Deadly. But oh, so devilishly handsome.
Ridiculously ornate silver rings adorned his long, thick fingers. There was a skull with ruby eyes on one, a diamond cross on another, and a serpent wrapped around his middle finger. I had to admit, I liked how his fingers dug into my waist. It immediately put my thoughts into the gutter—of him holding me so tightly, fucking me without mercy. I was instantly wet and tingling when the image entered my mind.
When my face smashed into his concrete chest, he smelled of leather and musk, all man with a hint of Downy fabric softener like my mom used. The combination could’ve been addictive if I had allowed myself to be near him, bewithhim.
I would do no such thing. This man was bad news. Not suitable for me or any woman, really.
My practical side halted when I looked into his dark penetrating eyes. I was in trouble. His gray depths pulled me in, wrapped around my throat, and held me there. The biker dude was hauntingly beautiful with a trimmed black beard and a military-style crew cut, longer on top and short on the sides. I’d like to feel his thick coif between my fingers and his scruffy chin brushing against the sensitive skin of my inner thighs.
Oh man, I was inbigtrouble.
I dropped into my chair and shifted uncomfortably. Biker dude had been right. I was wet—soaking wet. And he smelled me? My arousal? God, please… He was lying, right? If not, I was mortified.
“What was that all about?” Kim asked, eyeballing me. “Because honey, I didn’t take dark and dangerous as your type.”
Tara set her drink on the table, her eyebrows raised. “Who’s dark and dangerous? What’d I miss?”
Kim leaned toward Tara and whispered, “Behind you. At your seven o’clock. But don’t look yet. He’s watching her. Like. A. Hawk.” Kim’s gaze flicked to the side, then back to Tara.
He’s watching me.A shiver speared down my spine.Dark and Dangerouswas watching me? I reached for my rum and coke, gulping it all the way down. It did nothing to temper the rich molten lava of desire running through every inch of my body.
“Oh girl, those men are hot.” Tara whisper-shouted in my ear. “Which one is he?”
Was this what having an out-of-body experience felt like? Unable to move. Talk. Think. Blink. But my wet satin thong was a clear reminder this weird situation was, in fact, real.
What was happening to me? No man had ever made my mind whirl or my body heat into an inferno of lust. Surely not a biker.
Well, not exactly true. I drooled over Captain America’s bare chest and big muscles regularly. I had a thing for clean-shaven men with blue eyes, or rather, I only allowed myself to notice a specific type of man.
Mr. Biker President was not at all what I sought out, yet he had me clenching my thighs after one brief encounter. My nipples were painfully hard. My skin sizzled from his searing gaze. My heart thundered. A man like him was dangerous and controlling. He couldn’t be after more than my body and a sleazy night of sex. Heck, I bet he only wanted to get his rocks off, and five minutes later, he’d be gone.
“Drinks on the house,” a server announced with a tart expression. “Courtesy of the Knights.”
“Who are the Knights?” my friend Ray asked. “I’d like to thank them.” He went from slouching in his chair to sitting upright as if intrigued. He adjusted his round metal-framed glasses on his oval-shaped face. His beady eyes scanned the room. Ray didn’t fit in with the country folk in the bar. He was more of a grunge rocker sort of fellow.
“No need. They don’t like to be bothered.”
“Then why the drinks?” Ray tilted his head, hiking a dark brow.
“Ask her.” The server pointed her long red talon at me.
I glanced at the scowling bleached blonde, setting the drinks on the table. It was the same woman who’d had her hand on Mr. Biker President’s chest. Was she his girl? Or one of many?
“Get you anything else?” Daggers shot my way when she slammed down a pen and napkin in front of me.
What the hell?
“No. Thanks.” I looked down at the napkin where it had a message:Your number here. An arrow pointed to a blank spot. I slowly looked over my shoulder at Mr. Biker President. His eyes were locked on me. No smile. Just an intense stare. A hungry, intense stare.
Was he for real?
“He bought us drinks and wants your number.” Tara grinned like a fool.
“It appears so. Maybe we should leave. This place isn’t really our scene.” I fidgeted with the hem of my dress, hoping no one else could smell my soaked thong.
The biker dude had to have been screwing with my head, or maybe he was part canine and could sniff out a needy pussy everywhere he went. I wasn’t the least bit interested. Nope. Not even slightly. Apparently, my throbbing clit hadn’t gotten the memo.
