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“You know much about MCs?” I asked, shrugging off the sopping leather. Next I tugged off my shirt while she turned up the heat. We were both still shivering despite the seventy-degree weather outside. The cold Pacific waters had leached all heat from our bodies. I’d offer to lay in the backseat, skin to skin with her if I wasn’t worried about her kicking me out of her car. Being left, stranded, on the side of the road wasn’t the ending that I wanted for this day.
“Not really. I’ve just seen them riding around in San Francisco.” She bit her lush bottom lip as she glanced over at my naked chest and abs. “They look a lot like you.”
Interesting. “Like me how?” I wasn’t offended, just wondering how she saw me. I made sure to flex for her.
“Huge, tattoos, leather, boots, and looking like they could beat you to death in a few minutes,” she admitted, eyes darting back toward the road as twin spots of color appeared on her cheeks.
She wasn’t wrong exactly. “We never beat anyone weliketo death,” I admitted.
Her eyes widened as her lips parted in surprise. “That’s…comforting.” Her tone was equal parts amused and worried.
She was an enigma, one I wanted to figure out. I got the distinct impression that she wasn’t the type to give rides to strange men, yet she’d rushed headlong into the ocean to help me. Maybe my initial impression that she was impulsive wasn’t quite on the nose. “Why does that surprise you?”
“That means you beat people youdon’tlike to death?”
I scratched the back of my neck and shot her an innocent look. “Is that a bad thing?” I said it with a joking smile, but really she was closer than she’d be comfortable realizing.
I wasn’t about to admit to her that I was far from what society would consider a ‘good guy’. In fact, I was a criminal. Some would say a psychopath due to the things I did for my club. It was the lifestyle I’d chosen and it suited me. Telling her that too soon would send her running in the opposite direction and that was the last thing I wanted.
“It kinda is.” Her smile had me fighting to regain my breath.
“What’s your name?” I asked, changing the subject.
“Marina.”
“Fitting,” I told her.
“You have no idea,” she shot back.
“Oh?”
“I grew up here. Love the ocean. It…” She shook her head. Her hair was drying into long beachy waves, thanks to the heat that was blasting over us, and I wanted to gather it up in my fists while I fucked her.
Shifting in my seat to hide the erection I was suddenly sporting, I tried to get my mind off her body.
“It what?”
“Nothing,” she insisted.
She didn’t trust me. No surprise really. She had no reason to…yet.
CHAPTER2
Marina
Trip didn’t insist that I finish my sentence, which I appreciated. Most people didn’t fully understand my love of the sea. It went far beyond what was normal. If I could live underwater, I would.
It was so peaceful, the sound of the world muffled and distorted by the pressing water. To me, the ocean was home. The sea life that lived within the salty waters was beautiful and mysterious.
Trip shifted and I peeked over at him from the corner of my eye. He was gorgeous…and half naked. If I’d known I’d end up rescuing a hot, tatted up biker from the ocean this morning, I’d have prepped myself a bit better. Not that I knew how to prepare for that. My dash into the sea wouldn’t have been kind to any make-up I might have put on.
I was a simple girl. I wore shorts and tanks during the summer, no make-up—what was the point when you’d be on or under the water all day—and my hair was usually a mess thanks to the salt water. My job kind of required me to be pretty ‘go with the flow’ and I wouldn’t want any other career than the one I had.
Trip shifted again and my eyes widened as his hand landed on my leg just above my knee. Both his arms were tatted from the back of his hands up past his shoulders and connected on his chest. It was hard not to drool. The man had the kind of six pack abs you saw on TV or in magazines, not in real life. His hand was warm on my leg, the heat melting through my leggings to my skin.
This is the part where I should have said ‘what are you doing?’ Or ‘don’t touch me’. Instead, I was fighting the sudden urge to place my hand on top of his.
It wasn’t typical of me to be so trusting. I let him in my car because I was attracted to him. Never the best move. Glancing over, I met his laughing blue eyes. They were the exact color of the water in my favorite cove. That perfect mix of green and blue. It was a place I never took anyone. It was my escape from everything when I needed it. I’d never seen another person there, a miracle really, given how many people called San Francisco home.
