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Thinking about that dickhead raises my blood pressure, angry at what Simone went through because her ex couldn’t keep his pecker in his pants.
After I inadvertently heard a private conversation between the sisters, where Simone admitted Trent cheated on her and shared her fear of being exposed to STIs, I escorted her to get tested. Okay, yeah, I more or less insisted on going with her. She wasn’t thrilled at having a stranger tag along with her and her sister, but I was worried. She didn’t understand I’d known her for months already and was completely invested in her.
No, I couldn’t tell her. Then she’d know how obsessed I am with her.
Yes, I’m well-aware I’m a creep. Don’t care, and I wouldn’t deny it if she asked.
My issue with crossing boundaries didn’t stop there. I vowed to protect Simone from her ex, monitoring his whereabouts and keeping tabs on how often he reached out to her. As long as he stayed in his bubble in Sacramento and didn’t make his way to Colorado, he’d be safe from my wrath.
My determination to keep Simone safe only grew after Lucky Luca, a sadistic hitman in Lorenzo Bianchi’s mafia, tried to force himself on her a few weeks ago. I shadowed her every move, hardly letting her out of my sight, never once complaining about sleeping on the couch in her suite. I’d sleep on a bed of rusty nails if it meant I could stay close to her.
I even stole a kiss from her plump peach-colored lips when our crew rescued her and her family from the Bianchi mob a week ago, an act I have every intention of repeating. Maybe next time she’ll kiss me back.
The kiss definitely landed me in asshole territory. But I can’t lie, I don’t regret kissing her when it was positively the best experience I’ve ever had. The way she melted into me told me she hadn’t minded. It was only a handful of seconds, but that moment plays on a loop in my head the whole fucking week, torturing me with the ghost of her lips tingling against mine. I haven’t transgressed since then, scared I’ll freak her out with how territorial I’m becoming. But the urge to piss in a circle around her is strong.
I fucking need to win her heart—now—before I overstep to the point of no return, kissing goodbye any chance of being with her. My attention snaps back to the present, setting my plan into action.
For an early autumn evening, the weather is unseasonably pleasant, but not too unbearable for dancing to cause any discomfort. The sun has already set over the mountain region, casting a quixotic ambiance, lit only by the bonfire and lanterns on the slate-covered patio.
The mood couldn’t be more perfect to charm the dress right over her head.
Shadows are ideal for giving the impression of more privacy when you’re in a public setting filled with MC family and close friends. Perhaps Simone will be more open to my affections if she feels more secluded in the dim atmosphere.
The lengths I’ll go to earn this woman’s attention are beyond what most of my biker brethren would venture. As a biker, I’m rougher around the edges than your average dude; doesn’t mean I can’t be a romantic to the right lady. And if there’s a lady for me, Simone is it.
My attention returns to my temptress. Her body sways to the music, her hips moving like a pendulum in a slow, sultry swing. She’s not even embellishing her movements—it’s her natural sway. It has my dick saluting in my fitted slacks. She’s got me hypnotized, walking right toward her.
My hands itch to grab her hips from behind, pull her back flush to my chest. Those round, soft curves would feel so good under my fingers. Kneading her supple flesh in all the ways I’ve fantasized about. Bruising her porcelain skin like overripe fruit in a way that would give her maximum pleasure.
When I’m a hair’s breadth away from her, close enough to feel the heat of her body bounce off my chest, I whisper low in her ear, “Feeling down?”
I get the joy of watching a shudder run up her spine. She sighs and says, “A little, I guess.”
“I could reverse that. Feel you up instead,” I offer, with a smile in my voice.
Simone’s shoulders bounce with silent laughter. “Corniest pick-up line to date, Chase.”
“Anything to bring a smile to your lovely face, Numbers,” I admit, calling her by the pet name I gave her. It’s a cute club name for my little accountant.
She peeks over her shoulder, her silver eyes hooded with a desire I’ve never seen before. A desire for me.
‘Bout fucking time.
“Dance with me.” I’m not asking, but I keep my tone light to censor my command. Being demanding will do me no favors, even if it’s in my nature.
Simone leans into me, not heavily, but enough to show me her consent. I gently turn her to face me, pulling her tight against my torso. With one hand cinching her hip, the other flares over her back, keeping her flush to me. I may not do all the spicy Latin moves Atlas can, but I can move my hips. I dance with her the way I’d make love to her. Slow. Seductively. Intentionally keeping one thigh between hers, close to the warmth between her sexy legs, to help aid my cause.
When she brushes her sex against my leg, it’s by accident. She sucks in a little breath, flushing a pretty shade of pink on her ivory skin. My lips curl in one corner of my mouth as I bend my knees, taking her with me, making her straddle my thigh as I twist my hips slowly.
Simone whimpers, sucking her full bottom lip into her mouth to stifle the arousing noise.
I bend my gigantic six-three frame to meet her much shorter stature, bringing my lips close to her delicate ear. “Don’t hold back those little kitten noises from me. I want to hear them.”
She sucks in a lung full of air as I spin her around, holding her back to my front. My nose runs along her floral-scented skin, breathing in her natural bouquet. Simone doesn’t wear perfume like the other women in the club, and she doesn’t need to. The natural aroma of her flesh is fragrant enough, irresistible. Most intoxicating scent I’ve ever inhaled.
Simone swallows loudly. “What are you doing?”
“Enjoying you,” I answer honestly against the pulse point in her neck. It drums quickly under my touch.
