by Nicole James
“Bought it two weeks ago. Glad I guessed the size right.”
“You bought it for me? Why?”
“’Cause I knew eventually I’d put you on the back of my bike.”
My heart skips a beat and I forget to breathe. “What do you want from me, Sly?”
“More than you think.”
“How much more?”
“Everything. As much as you’ll give me, and I ain’t talkin’ about sex. I’m talkin’ about you.”
I can feel my heart start again, and now it’s racing. My skin flushes. I was so not ready for that answer. He reads my reaction.
“You asked for it straight. I’m givin’ it to you.”
I’m saved from responding by his mother returning with our food. She sets the plates before us. The helpings are huge.
“Oh, my, that smells delicious.” I make polite conversation, but on the inside, my mind is reeling from his admission. He’s way more interested in me than I thought he was. This is all more than I expected.
“Enjoy.” She smiles, winks at Sly, and leaves us alone.
I pick up my napkin-wrapped silverware and unroll it with shaking hands. By the time I’ve smoothed my napkin on my lap, Sly’s already digging into his food.
“You eat up here a lot?” I change the subject to something benign, something safer as I cut a small bite and slip it into my mouth.
His eyes follow my actions, lingering on my lips before lifting to my eyes. “Some. When I get a chance, which isn’t all that often. Besides”—he jerks his head toward his mother behind the counter, pouring coffee for a truck driver—“every time she lays eyes on this cut”—he jams his thumb toward his leather vest—“she gets all worked up. Brings up bad memories for her. Sometimes I stay gone just so I’m not a reminder to her.”
I frown. “A reminder of what?”
He stares at his plate and moves the food around with his fork. Once again I feel like I’ve stumbled into uncertain territory. Sly told me he’d be truthful; maybe he’s already regretting that promise. Just when I think he’s not going to answer me, he starts talking, softly and with a distance in his voice.
“After my dad died, she eventually began to date again, one loser after another. Never could understand it because Ma’s a sweetheart. She’s just got sucker written on her face, I guess, I don’t know. But they always found her. Last one she got serious with ended up movin’ in with us. He was the bum of all bums. He was also a mean drunk. Whatever was goin’ wrong in his life, he took it out on Ma. Didn’t matter what, it was always her fault.”
I stare at him. I don’t know what to say to make any of that better, so I keep silent and just listen.
“In high school, I was on the wrestling team. I was good at it and attracted the notice of some college scouts. Got a full scholarship lined up and everything. Then one night I came home after practice, and the motherfucker was beating the shit out of her. By then, I was old enough that I didn’t have to stand by and let it happen. I’d warned him if he ever laid another hand on her, I’d kill him. That night, I kept my word.”
I blink, completely stunned by his story. I’m not sure why, after all, he’s a badass biker, a one-percenter. Isn’t that exactly the stereotype I’d imagined him? Only somehow he doesn’t fit that mold anymore. I mean, Sly’s badass, but he’s got so much more depth to him than I’d ever expected. I wait for him to say more, but he gets quiet. Finally, I prompt, “What happened?”
“Police came, arrested me. Didn’t matter I was defending my mother. Didn’t matter he was a drunken wife beater. They plead it down to involuntary manslaughter, but I still did five years in prison. Lost the scholarship, everything I’d worked for, all in the blink of an eye.”
“My God,” I whisper. “How old were you?”
“Turned eighteen in prison; got out when I was twenty-two.”
“You were so young.”
He nods. “Guess so. Anyway, Ma never got over it. Blames herself to this day for bringin’ that asshole around. Feels like it’s her fault everything was taken from me.”
“Is that how you feel?”
He drills me with his eyes. “No one’s ever asked me that. Not even her.”
I wait. Minutes go by. “You haven’t answered me.”
“I guess my answer is I hope not. I want to say no, of course not, but if I’m bein’ honest, I don’t know. Maybe a part of me, deep down …
“I did what I had to do. I don’t regret it and would do it again in a heartbeat. I saved my mother. I know, as sure as I’m sitting here, if I hadn’t done what I did, she’d be dead. If not that time, then the next time or the next. And there would have been a next time.
“So I paid the consequences, gladly. And now I have to live with it.”
“But?”
“But this wasn’t the way my life was supposed to go, and I think about that sometimes. I think about what I was capable of and it scares me. I fear what else I’m capable of, if I let myself go down that dark road. Where do I draw the line between what I’ve become and the man who I’ll forever hate, the man responsible for my downfall? Am I all that different from him? Look what I’ve been capable of.”
“You didn’t belong in prison. You didn’t deserve that.”
“Didn’t I? Sometimes I jerk awake at night thinking I’m still there …”
Sly trails off and stares out the window, and I can tell he’s reliving it all again.
“The cell was so small. And the noise in that place—constant—loud all the fucking time. You could never get any quiet, not even in the middle of the night. It was cold in the winter and hot in the summer.”
Suddenly, he turns back to me, and I know he’s with me again in the present when he grins.
“And don’t get me started on the food.”
I return his smile, wanting to erase his pain, but I know I can’t. I have my own pain to deal with. I can’t be anyone’s savior right now.
“Michaela, I didn’t bring up all that shit to scare you off. I guess I just want you to know what you’re gettin’ with me if you take me on.”
“Take you on?”
“If we get involved.”
“Are we getting involved?” I barely whisper the words as I’m suddenly having an out of body experience.
The corner of his mouth pulls up. “I’m hopin’ so.”
I swallow, my mind whirling with thoughts of being the woman of a man like Sly. God, I feel faint in a most delicious way.
He points to my plate with his fork. “You like it?”
I blink. “It’s great.” I’m as relieved as he is to change the subject.
“Save room for some pie.”
“Pie? That’s my weakness.” I teasingly glance toward the counter. “Do they have coconut cream?”
He chuckles. “They don’t, I’ll find you some.”
“I’ll bet you could.” I lick gravy off my fork, and he watches like he’s fascinated. I can’t help asking, “What are you thinking?”
“Right now I’m thinking about you with whipped cream smeared all over your body.”
“Sly!” I glance around to see if any customers overheard.
He grins a Cheshire cat smile. “You wanted honesty. I’m givin’ it to you.”
Sixteen
Michaela—
We walk out to the bike after a good meal. Sly takes my hand and pulls me to him. One arm goes round my waist and tugs me flush against his body. I tilt my head up, lost in the depths of those hypnotic eyes the color of green glass.
His gaze drops to my mouth and then his lips cover mine. It’s gentle at first, just a soft brush, like he’s testing the waters, checking to see how receptive I am to his advances.
My mouth opens under his and he takes full advantage, sweeping inside with his tongue to thoroughly claim and explore. He’s a damn good kisser, probably the best I’ve ever encountered. We mesh so well with each other. I slip my hands up and cup the hot skin of his corded neck. I feel the muscle
s move beneath my palms as he works his mouth over mine, coming back for more again and again until we’re both breathless and panting.
“Goddamn,” he gasps as we break apart to breathe. He presses his forehead to mine and smiles down into my face. “The girl can kiss.”
I smile back at his compliment. “You’re not half bad yourself.”
“Not half bad? I guess I’ll have to try harder.” He grabs my ass and shuffles me backwards until my body comes up against the cool brick wall. My arms wrap around his shoulders as his mouth comes down on mine to fulfill his promise—and oh, my God—I’m more aroused by this man’s kisses than I’ve ever been by any man, ever. Where has he been all my life? I didn’t know guys could kiss like this. I never want to stop. I want to stand here all night and kiss this boy. Well, not a boy, no one would ever describe Sly as a boy.
His hands begin to stray over my body, over the curve of my hips and the indent of my waist and then higher, higher until he’s bracketing my breasts. He wants to go there, I can tell, but he hesitates a moment, breaks the kiss, and looks down into my eyes. And I suddenly realize he’s looking for any resistance from me. Warmth spreads through my chest at the thought that he’s respecting me enough to go at a pace I’m comfortable with and not force anything on me.
I pull on his neck, bringing his mouth back to mine and giving him the green light. Sly captures my mouth and his hands cup my breasts. I feel the moan vibrate up from his throat and he squeezes those big palms. A jolt of arousal shoots through me.
After another minute, he pulls his mouth back an inch and peers down at my shirt with the laced-up V-neck. He tugs on one of the strings. “These have been drivin’ me crazy all night. Sexy as hell.”
I grin. Pleased he thinks so.
Some old trucker with a grizzled beard walks to the doors, maybe twenty feet away, and glances over at us, then chuckles and mutters, “Get a room.”
The corner of Sly’s mouth pulls up and he backs off, taking my hand. “Come on, pretty girl. Let’s get out of here.”
We mount up on the bike and blast out onto the highway, heading back toward Uprising. The whole trip back, he’s got one palm on my thigh, squeezing and rubbing it and making me crave more.
When we near town, Sly makes a couple of turns, and I realize he’s not heading back to the pub or my apartment.
Finally, he pulls into the driveway of a ranch-style home, then shuts off the bike and we dismount. It’s silent in the night except for the sound of crickets and the ticking of the cooling Harley engine. I look up at the place. “What are we doing here?”
He hooks a finger in my belt loop and pulls me against him. “This is my place. Thought we could finish what we started back there. But if you want, I’ll take you back to the pub.”
He’s giving me the choice. I can stay or go. I look into his eyes, wondering if I can trust him with my body, and maybe with my heart. Do I stay and take the chance?
“Michaela, this is all up to you. You call the shots. You want to go, we’ll go, but I’m diggin’ you, big time. Thought you felt the same way.”
“I do, but …” my voice trails off, unsure.
“Sweetheart, I’m not gonna do anything you’re not ready for, but damn, girl, you turn me on. Those kisses were hot as fire, and I ain’t gonna lie, you got me wantin’ more, a lot more.” He brushes his thumb down my cheek. “I’ll never hurt you. I swear it. You’re safe with me.”
“Okay,” I squeak out, so sucked under by this man and every word that falls out of his sexy mouth. He’s like a drug I’m already addicted to. I’m drawn to him and powerless to fight the attraction. It’s like floating along on a river that’s picking up speed with each passing minute until the trees on the bank are flying past in a blur, and there’s only his green eyes swallowing me up in a whirl.
Sly takes my hand and leads me to the door, keying the lock. We enter a living room, breeze past a kitchen, and head down a hall to his bedroom. It’s surprisingly neat with a low platform bed, nightstand, and dresser—no clutter, no dust, no laundry on the floor. At every turn, this man shocks me.
What kind of biker is a obsessively neat? Or maybe he has a cleaning service. Or some girl from the club. Or a girlfriend. I suddenly pull back at the thought.
He turns, frowning. “What’s wrong?”
“Your bed’s made.”
“Yeah? So?”
I glance around looking for any trace that there’s a female living here.
“You’re not, like … married, are you?”
He huffs out a laugh. “What? Are you serious?”
“This place is too tidy for a guy.”
“Babe, there’s no wife, no girlfriend, no ol’ lady. I’ve just always picked up my shit.” He taps my forehead with his index finger. “Quit thinking so much. Time to just feel.”
With that, Sly pulls me against him for another one of those kisses hot enough to melt ice. I agree with him. I need to stop overthinking this and just enjoy.
I lay my hands on his chest, feeling the leather beneath my fingertips, and it sinks in all over again who this man is—a full-patched member of the Kings of Carnage.
His hands cover mine as he breaks our connection. He smiles down at me, steps back to pull off his leather cut, what I’ve learned he calls that vest with his club’s patches or colors, then hangs it on the back of a chair in the corner of the room and walks toward me. As he does, he tugs off the thermal shirt he’s wearing and tosses it back on the chair as well. And oh, my God, Sly’s body is amazing. There’s ink on his neck that trails down his left arm, but the rest of his chest and abs are all beautifully tanned skin. He’s got a six-pack to die for and that sexy V that disappears into his pants. I bite my bottom lip to keep from licking them.
He hooks a thumb in the waistband of his jeans and cocks his head to the side, looking at me. “Damn, girl. Every time you do that, my dick gets hard.”
“Do what?”
“Bite your bottom lip.”
I immediately stop, hardly aware of it. Still, he just stands there, staring at me.
“What are you doing?”
“Just lookin’ at you, pretty girl, and takin’ in the fact I’ve got you standing here in my bedroom.”
“Well, now that you’ve got me here, what are you going to do with me?” I challenge with a quirk of my brow.
He grins. “A hell of a lot, baby girl.”
Sly grabs my ass and hefts me up, and a moment later, I’m flat on my back on his king-sized bed with his hard body on top of me. His biceps bracket me in as he holds up some of his weight. One jean-covered leg is thrown over mine, and I can feel his erection through the soft denim.
His skin is warm and he smells so good, like leather and outdoors and a scent all his own.
His mouth comes down on mine, and one palm trails over my hip. He pushes his knee between my thighs and grabs my leg behind the knee, pulling up until my crotch is pressed to his thigh. He shifts, rubbing against me through my jeans and it feels so erotic. I moan into his mouth while he keeps at it until I swear I’m going to orgasm just from that.
He rolls onto his back and I end up straddling him, a knee on either side of his hips. He tugs at the hem of my henley. “Lose this.”
I take a breath and pull it over my head. I’m wearing a black bra and his eyes drop to it, then his hands cup my waist, but don’t go any farther.
“Let your hair down.”
I pull the hair tie free and work the braid from the bottom up, threading my fingers through until it falls free in waves around my shoulders.
A lock falls against my cleavage, and Sly reaches up and touches it. “It’s like pale fire against your skin. Beautiful.” He sits up and wraps his arms around me, planting his face in my cleavage, kissing each swelling mound.
He moves back and leans against the headboard, then hooks a finger in one strap and draws it down my arm. “Take this off.”
I reach behind me and unhook it, pulling it free and to
ssing it aside, then warm calloused hands immediately close over my bare breasts, squeezing and kneading them. He runs both thumbs back and forth over my nipples. They’re erect and so sensitive that I bite my bottom lip and moan, my eyes sliding shut. Sly moves forward and takes one in his hot mouth. My breath stutters at the sensation of his facial hair brushing against my soft skin. Oh, God, that’s hot.
He toys and licks and sucks and tugs until I’m writhing against him, my hands clutching his head to me. He moves on to the other.
“Oh, yes,” I whisper and grind my crotch against him, wanting some friction.
He growls and tosses me onto my back, surging over my body and working my jeans until they’re undone. Then he moves off the bed, pulls my boots off and yanks my pants clean off in one jerk.
I gasp.
I’m only in my panties, but he doesn’t leave those for long. He curls his fingers at my hips and peels them off too.
Then he’s standing at the foot of the bed, his eyes taking in my naked form. I pull up a knee and run the bottom of my foot along the comforter, enticing him to hurry as his hands move to undo his belt and jeans. He kicks off his boots, pulls off his socks, and strips out of his jeans and black boxer briefs.
His erection springs forward, long and hard, and I can’t peel my eyes away, and when he grabs himself at the root and strokes upward, twisting at the tip, it’s the most erotic thing I’ve ever seen. I suddenly want to watch this man jack himself off, but not now. Now I want that inside me.
Sly stands a moment to give me a show and a small smile forms on his gorgeous mouth at my reaction. I undulate on the bed, the cool satiny fabric slippery beneath me. He’s enjoying this, enjoying me—all stretched out on his bed, my nerves keyed-up to a breaking point—dying for his hands on me, needing it with every fiber of my being.
Oh, why is he making me wait? And then I know—to drag this out, to amp up the desire. This is all part of the foreplay, and oh God, is it working.
He puts a knee to the bed and I melt.
“See something you want, angel?”
I nod and lift a hand out to him.
Sly crawls over me, his hot naked body coming down on mine, skin to hot skin, and I want to crawl inside him. Wrapping my arms around him, I stroke my fingertips up and down his back until he’s moaning. When I fold one of my legs over his, he growls and then grabs the back of my knee with his palm and pushes himself up, spreading me wide.