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God, had there ever been browner eyes?
They were both hard and soft, piercing yet uber aware.
“I can’t take a picture,” I gasped, trying to catch my breath. “He can see me.”
“Are you having an asthma attack?”
I didn’t think so, but it was only because she was marring the moment with her commentary.
For a second, with his gaze locked on mine, the link between us burned brightly, a solid connection that settled inside me.
That made something burn to life in my belly.
That made my nipples tighten.
Then his glance drifted, flying over my prep-school uniform, and I felt his dismissal to my bones.
Interest averted now that he saw I was jailbait, the stranger returned his focus to his cell phone.
Though disappointed, I appreciated the fact that he wasn’t a pervert. Plus, it gave me the chance to take in the ink on his throat and how his fingers were loaded with more tattoos. It let me absorb just how massive he was, those muscles in his shoulders bulging in a way that made me want to melt. Then, there was his size.
He was a giant.
He’d probably be able to lift me up with one hand.
Swoon.
“He has muscles on top of muscles on top of muscles, Sarah,” I keened.
“Picture or it didn’t happen.”
I heaved a sigh. “Then it didn’t happen.”
“Share the spoils.”
“Nope.”
That was when the front door burst open.
Another biker, this one with a buzz cut, stormed out of the house, slamming the door closed behind him with such force that I thought the front windows shuddered in response to his wrath.
“Jesus Christ! What was that?” Sarah demanded.
The stranger’s rage simmered along the airwaves, a visceral force that replaced my curiosity with fear. That cooled my budding arousal instantly.
What the hell had I been thinking by walking toward the unfamiliar, scary biker and not running far, far away?
Daddy wasn’t here to protect us anymore.
It wasn’t like he could come racing after this stranger to defend us all the way from Hell’s Kitchen. Heck, he might not have cared if Ididcontact him.
Mother had a guard, but because she spent most of her time at home drinking, he usually went off and did his own thing, and she never said a word because it meant she could bang the pool guy without it coming to Daddy’s attention.That mattered since he’d moved out and her allowance was under threat.
As for the neighbors, sure, they’d see what was happening, but would they care? Mother wasn’t popular and, by extension, neither was I.
Should I call the cops?
The bikers didn’t seem to have done anything wrong, but they’d…
