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Her throat was too dry to talk, so she only nodded once.
He lifted a hand, indicating she should walk ahead of him, so she did. She spun on one spiky heel—how the hell did Liv wear these damn things all the time—then strutted down the hallway. The groan he didn’t bother to hide let her know the skirt hugged her ass just the way she’d hoped.
“Give me fucking strength,” he muttered.
Brenna’s lips twitched.
They said a quick goodbye to the sitter, who told Brenna she was fire, and then went outside.
“We’re taking the bike.” He pointed toward the open garage where he kept his motorcycle
That had her stopping in her tracks. “What? I can’t ride in this getup. My whole ass will be on display.” She indicated to her skimpy clothes.
Lock smirked. “I don’t mind. Consider it your tax for making me suffer all morning.”
“Suffer?” She shook her head. What did he mean? She scanned him up and down until—“Oh.”
Another of those sinful smirks. “Yeah. Oh. Get on the damn bike while I can still drive.”
A significant bulge tented the front of his jeans.
Brenna giggled. Instead of embarrassment, she felt elated at the thought of him wanting her so much he couldn’t hide the evidence. “Isn’t it going to be hard to ride with… that?” she asked as she waved a hand toward his erection.
“Yep. About as hard as it will be for you to ride in… that.”
“Fair enough.” Who knew where this bold seductress came from, but she sauntered over to the bike and threw a leg over the rear seat. As predicted, the skirt rode up so high her ass was basically on display, and Lock had a clear view of her tiny black panties.
“Jesus, I’m a fucking masochist.” Lock shook his head and climbed on the bike in front of her.
“Comfortable?” she asked in as innocent a voice as she could muster.
He grunted. “Fuck no. How’s the breeze back there?” he asked a second before he revved the engine as loud as possible, probably waking the entire neighborhood.
Brenna yelped and clutched at his cut. Laughter bubbled from deep in her stomach. This entire situation was bananas, and she was insane for having as much fun as she was.
The trip to the clubhouse was quicker than usual since the sun hadn’t risen and traffic was sparse. Brenna clung to his back and fought to ignore how delicious he smelled. It’d be easy to press her lips to the back of his neck to see if he tasted as good as he smelled.
But she needed to get her head in the game if she wanted to stay in control and calm when she encountered Oliver. So, instead of continuing to play with Lock, she rested her cheek on his back and breathed as they flew through the streets toward the clubhouse.
They arrived all too soon and only seconds before Jinx.
“Hot damn,” the big guy said as she walked through the parking lot. “You don’t fuck around.”
“Eyes off, you big oaf,” Lock grumbled as he smacked the back of Jinx’s head.
“Ow! What the fuck was that for? Jesus.” Jinx rubbed his head, but his smirk told them all they needed to know. He loved getting a rise out of Lock.
“How about we focus, boys?” Brenna asked.
“Oh, Lock is focusing, darlin’. He is focusing right on that juicy a—”
“Do I need to call Harper?” Lock raised an eyebrow.
Jinx frowned. “Why you gotta kill my fun?”
“Come on.” Lock placed his hand on the small of her back and guided her toward the clubhouse. The heat of his palm on her bare back had shivers dancing across her exposed skin. Spec, Tracker, and Ty were already in the clubhouse. Frost had been outside standing guard so he could alert them the moment Oliver came near.
Thankfully, no one else commented on her outfit, though she did get some sideways glances. Whatever. This was her armor. It made her feel strong and powerful, and it would drive Oliver insane. He’d always had something to say about women he felt dressed “slutty.” As though any woman gave two shits what he thought of them.
