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19
Tara
MY EYES SLOWLY opened. I never needed to set the alarm on my phone. I had a fail-proof internal clock. I woke up every morning at the same time: 6:05 a.m.
In college, Madeline always grumbled about it, because she was a light sleeper. The moment my foot hit the floor of our dorm, she was up too.
I curled into a tight little package under the covers as a mammoth yawn took hold of me.
Hero!
Had last night been a dream? Was Hero really out of jail and in my home? I reached my hand behind me, where I recalled him being when I succumbed to exhaustion after stripping out of my clothes to show him my scars.
The spot was empty.
Raising up on my elbows, I flitted my tired eyes across my room. A soft glow of light found its way through the blinds.
His leather cut stood out among my clothes in my closet. I didn’t recall him hanging it.
I wrinkled my forehead as a scent filled my nostrils.Is that bacon?My stomach growled as I inhaled the deliciousness. I’d missed dinner yesterday, as I did most days, but this morning I actually felt hungry.
Kicking off the blankets like a kid on Christmas morning, I jumped out of bed, smiling like a fool. Goose bumps spread across my nearly naked body. It was freezing, so I tugged on sweats and scuffled into the bathroom.
I quickly brushed my teeth and combed my fingers through my wild red mane. No time to mess with it. This was me before a proper shower. I wasn’t Beyoncé. I didn’t wake up flawless.
Tiptoeing down the hall to catch him in the act, I stilled to peer around the corner.
Unbelievable.
Hero had his back to me, humming an unrecognizable tune at the stove. Bacon sizzled and popped in perfect harmony, as if it were his band. I crept around the corner to admire him inmykitchen. No man had ever cooked for me before. Not even Dad.
Sure, I could fix a few easy prep meals by the time I was twelve years old. Mostly ramen, grilled cheese, scrambled eggs, and waffles. Pretty much anything that could go into the microwave, boil in water or cook in one skillet.
I put my hand on my chest, grateful for this second chance with him.
My mouth watered and it had nothing to do with the bacon.
Why did men look so fucking hot shirtless with their jeans hanging off their hips and barefoot? I wanted to kiss every inch of his tan skin. Drag my tongue through the dips and valleys of his six-pack abs. Smell his musk and taste his cum. I desired him more than any man before him. I needed to reacquaint myself with this superhero of a biker.
Last night was incredibly peaceful, sleeping in his arms. I felt safe, cared for.Adored. I appreciated his understanding beyond words. I’d thought for sure he’d force me to talk.
As I recalled how everything unfolded, I wasn’t sure what had gotten into me. Hero had pounced on me, smothered me with a kiss that had my clit throbbing, panties damp with my arousal. Desperately, I ached for his cock. Would’ve let him fuck me against the wall, had Luna not interrupted.
It went downhill from there…
Now this morning? I was like a bitch in heat.
Horny as fuck.
Aching nipples? Check.
Pulsing clit? Check. Check. Check.
I needed my man more than a friggin’ slice of bacon. That was saying something. I fucking loved bacon.
Hero’s muscles flexed and danced with his movements. He was incredibly handsome. Sinfully bossy. I couldn’t get enough of him.
But he didn’t let me call the shots. Not a chance. It was how I preferred it.
