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Doesn’t matter that I thought relationships were dead weight before finding her. She’s mine.All fucking mine.And I can’t wait to claim every beautiful inch of her.
Shit, I’m turning into one of those clingy lovers with hearts in their eyes—a fucking simp. Who would have guessed I’d be the first of our crew to claim a woman?
My mouth went dry the moment she waltzed on the center stage. Those slender legs highlighted in those platform heels gave me instant wood. But when my eyes took in the rest of her, I was a goner. Her ass is nice and round, her waist tapers in, showing off a flat tummy, and her breasts have their own zip-code. The icing on the cake is those light-blue eyes on a heart-shaped face showcasing pouty lips.
And the hair… Platinum blond with rainbow streaks. Perfect, like the stone she’s named after.
Mesmerized by her beauty, I watched her move seductively around the pole in that naughty schoolgirl uniform, my eyes glued to the natural sway of her hips.
She sucker-punched me when she singled me out, making me feel a hundred feet tall.
Not to sound shallow, but I’m a decent-looking guy. However, I’m never the first pick out of the crew. Yes, I’m ripped, but I’m barely six-foot, making me the smallest out of my brothers. The type of women who gravitate toward bikers typically prefer tall and rugged.
Out of the lot, I’m the most clean-cut. I still keep my hair short and my beard trimmed. My clothes are fresh and flawless. No ripped-up jeans or scuffed-up boots for this bad boy. As for tats, I keep it simple. No wild piercing like Chase or Atlas, or full-body ink like Punk.
Imagine my surprise when I watched Opal’s eyes scan over the members of our crew and settle on me. Those light blues of hers stayed glued to my face as she continued her routine. The rest of the club could have fallen away. She entranced me. It felt like her dance was for me alone.
She chose me.
Something inside of me shifted planes. All that mattered before—the endless parties, the hookups, the freedom to do whatever I wanted—suddenly didn’t. Or at least not on the same level as the way this gorgeous woman did. It was peculiar, but deep inside, I knew she was my “it” girl.
And here she is on my bike, clinging to my body like I’m her knight in shining armor.
Fuck.What is happening to me? Am I smitten, horny, or falling?
Opal’s hand wanders over my abs. My heart beats against my ribcage at an alarming pace.
Ah, hell.It’s all three.
Insane? Yes. Yet, I don’t give a flying fuck. She’s more than innocent and sweet. No one gives away a safe full of money when she probably needs it as much as her friends. When Opal handed over the cash to the other women, it solidified my opinion of her. She’s a big-hearted humanitarian. And this woman is mine, all five-and-a-half feet of her.
Easy, Gauge.She hasn’t agreed to anything yet. I need to proceed with caution and not claim her like some damn caveman.
The devil on my shoulder flips off my conscience and grabs his balls.
I’m kind of in agreement with him. The last thing I want to do is move slowly with this shorty. Every fiber of my being is screaming at me to go to the hotel and make it official.
Fuck her. Claim her heart and soul.
The only thing holding me back is the angelic innocence she radiates. She’s not my typical hookup. Those women are forward, with their hands down my pants in a nanosecond.
No, Opal is not an aggressor—she’s a lamb, and I’m the big bad wolf.
My hand has a mind of its own. It runs over her thigh as I cruise through the city to her place. Goddamn, do I love the feel of her toned leg under my palm. As I investigate her body, her hands do the same to me, running all over my abs and up my chest.
Riding a hog when you have wood is not the most comfortable journey, but there’s no taming it. This woman has got my dick punching the zipper of my jeans. It wants in her—now!
Steady, boy! Let’s not put the cart before the horse. First, we must woo her.
Wooing? I shake my head. This woman has got my mind and dick so twisted, I’m not sure they can be untangled. Nor do I think I want them to be.
Five minutes after leaving the club, we pull up to the address she gave me. The area is shadier than where the strip club was located. Half the city lights are burned out or busted. Sirens are constant in these parts. And there are more bars than windows. The dilapidated building she lives in looks nearly inhabitable, with a busted front door and a crumbling facade.
It’s a good thing she agreed to leave with me. She doesn’t belong here. No one does.
Opal gets off my bike, greeting a homeless man sitting against the building. “How’s your evening, Frank?”
He gives her a gummy smile. “Good, Miss Opal. No need to worry. The man didn’t show up.”
