“I want you, Grace. Bad. I got you on my bike . . .”
My body stiffened. “I knew this was a mistake. That’s not what this is, and you know that. You’re just playing bodyguard for the club.”
His fierce eyes flashed at me. “I’m not playing anything for anybody.”
“Already had a taste of you. I want more,” he breathed. “Tell me you don’t.”
His lips touched mine, and my pulse went haywire. His tongue coaxed my lips open, swept through my mouth, and took what it wanted from me. Lock made a growling noise at the back of his throat and bit my lower lip.
Screw good intentions and self-preservation.
I pressed myself into his hard chest, and this time, my tongue took over the little dance inside our mouths,igniting my coiled desire for him. Every cell in my body savored the high of his heat against my body, the promise of his searing, insistent touch on my flesh, the magic potion that was the warm, intoxicating taste of his mouth.
“Let’s go,” I whispered hoarsely.
My fingers dug into his taut shoulders. “Aren’t we spending the night here in a hotel?”
He didn’t move a muscle, only continued to hold me tight against his frame, his brooding eyes glued to mine.
“Lock? What is it?” My face heated. “Don’t you … I thought—”
He released me, shifting his body weight on the barstool. “We haven’t finished our drinks yet.”
“What? Who cares about the beer?”
“It’s good micro-brewed beer, Grace, and this one happens to be from the Black Hills too. It’d be a shame to let it go to waste.”
“Are you kidding me? What the hell are you talking about?”
He averted his gaze and brought the beer to his lips. Those demanding luscious lips that had just been nuzzling mine were now wrapped around the black glass bottle of Miner beer. I hated that bottle, and I suddenly detested beer.
My head tilted at him. “It’s not beer that I want right now,” I muttered.
“Really?” His gorgeous ebony eyes widened at me as he swallowed the brew and set the bottle carefully on the bar. “Well, considering you recently accused me of only being in lust with you, that whatever is going on between us is only ‘sex and desperation’…” He shot me a smirk.
I froze. “Are you turning me down?”
“You said that our first time together had only been about ‘booze and desperation,’ remember that?”
“You also said we’d only ‘indulged in an attraction.’”
My mouth fell open. He’d repeated everything I had said to him days earlier—all my pathetic reasons for not pursuing a relationship—or whatever this was—with him. “I don’t believe this. You’re throwing my words in my face? Now?”
His eyebrows lifted, a grin playing on his full lips. “I’m not throwing anything. I’m only repeating a few memorable gems you laid on me.”
“Gems?” I leaned into him, straining to keep my voice low. “You get me begging for it, for you, and now—”
His face lit up. “Begging? I like the sound of that. One simple word that paints so many, many pictures in my head.”
“You are unbelievable!” I let out a huff of air.
“No, I’m being practical. You made your point, Grace. Point well taken. Now I’m making mine.”
“And that is?”
He licked his bottom lip as he studied me. “I also said something in that particular conversation. You remember?”
I took in a breath. “You said, ‘Imagine if we got to know each other better.’”
“That’s right.” He grinned. “So, right now I’m going to control my baser instincts until I hear you say that you want me, that you want to explore something more. Not just that you want to get laid.”
“W-What?” I stammered.
He leaned in close to me, his grin widening. “And no matter how much, right this very second, all I want to do is pull you up on this bar top—”
I shoved a hand against his chest. “Watch it, we’re in public!”
He clasped my wrist, his warm lips brushed my ear. “Rip those tight jeans down those sexy legs, take a bite out of your panties, and bury my face in your hot pussy. And I’m very, very sure it’s aching for me right now, isn’t it?”
“Oh, fuck you!”
He let out a laugh. “Shh, manners!” His nose brushed against my jaw, and a shiver raced through my hardened insides, melting them against my will.
Shit. There was no point in fighting this. He wasn’t buying my act. His heart raced under my hand, its speeding pulse matching my own.
His warm breath tickled my neck as his lips brushed my cheek. “And then I’d lick you, suck on you, and lash you with my tongue until you were thrashing in my hands, and begging me. Yes, baby, begging me to give you my cock.”
My eyes sank shut, and I let out a low groan.
“Yeah, that’s what I thought.”
“Oh, get over yourself.” I shoved at his chest once more.
“It’s been twenty-one days since you’ve had my cock, Grace. Tell me you haven’t been thinking about it every one of those days. About us. Together.”
My body sank further in his embrace, and he let out a chuckle as he released his hold on me.
“I’ve been thinking it about it, Grace, about you, every fucking day. And even though there’s nothing more that I want right this very second than to taste you and feel you come in my mouth, we’re not going to do that. Right now, we are going to get to know each other better.”
My eyes trained on his. “Oh really? Right now?”
“Oh yeah. Right now. And if—if we make it back to the hotel in one piece—”
I smirked. “That’s a very big if right there.”
His hand squeezed my ass hard, and I winced at the shot of pain. “Then, Grace, then I’m gonna fuck you. All fucking night. On the bed, on the floor, on the dresser, against the wall, in the shower…”
“On the bathroom sink?”
“You know, the counter.”
That small smile swept his lips once more, but this time it transformed into something wicked. “Absolutely.”
My body moved towards his on raw instinct. A mating call, a magnetic pull. Physics and nature would not be denied.
“Uh-uh.” He jerked back, releasing me, and sat up straight, adjusting himself on his stool once again.
I stared at him as he drained his beer and signaled the bartender for another round. My face tilted towards the ceiling, and I prayed for patience and for the uncivilized urges to shout, slap, hit, and maim him to dissipate.
I exhaled a long breath as I smoothed my hair behind my ears. I did appreciate the effort. What was wrong with trying? Wouldn’t it be worth it to find out if this were more than lust? A chemical reaction?
The bartender slid fresh bottles of beer in front of us as Lock cleared his throat, ending my reverie. I crossed my arms and leaned against the bar. “All right, Lock. Let’s get to know each other better.”
He quirked an eyebrow. “Okay.” His long fingers slid up and down the beer bottle. “So, tell me, Grace. What’s your favorite color?”
My head snapped at him. “Blue,” I spit out.
He let out a laugh and took my hand in his, bringing it to his lips.
“Hey! No touching!” I laughed as I tugged my hand back, but he held it fast.
His eyes rested on our clasped hands. That rare, relaxed smile of his swept over his lips as his fingers squeezed mine. “I can’t not touch you, Grace. Just can’t. It’s almost unnatural,” he murmured. Our fingers entwined, and my insides melted all over again.
This is where I want to be. Here in this fragile, gentle place all our own.
He brushed my hand gently with his mouth, taking my breath away. “Blue is my favorite color too.”
“Is it?” I glanced down at the formidable erection between his legs.
He laughed, his thumb stroking my hand. “It really is my favorite color. There are so many different kinds of blue. Riding up here to Montana today with you. The bright blue of that forever sky over us—wide open, clean.” His voice was suddenly soft, drawn out. “Only a few thick puffs of pure white cloud stretching through it, making that blue even more—”
He held my gaze, and that fragile sweetness between us bloomed, stinging my insides.
He nodded. “It was pretty damned spectacular.”
Like a heady perfume whose sensual magic wafted from an open bottle, Lock’s gentle voice and his warm hand around mine inspired untapped desires. I was riveted to him, to this precious moment.
This was new geography under that blue sky, and I didn’t want to just scan the road map. I wanted to discover it. Experience it. Breathe that air.
I launched at him, kissing him, our clasped hands nestled between us.
“Grace,” he groaned, his free hand cradling my face.
“You got company, man,” the bartender’s tense voice sliced between us. Lock’s hand flew to my waist as my eyes darted in the direction of the bartender’s sober gaze.
A Demon Seed stood on the other side of Lock. “Peg” and “VP” were patched on his colors, and a sneer was etched on his face.
“Welcome to the neighborhood.”
© 2015 Cat Porter