Rafe returned after a few minutes, refilled bucket in hand, and strolled back over to where she stood near the Kawasaki. “Ahh, Dr Pepper—my favourite. Makes me burp like mad, though!” He winked.
Swallowing the mouthful she’d taken, she gave a closed-mouth smile. No way was she going to admit it often did the same to her. She hoped her body wouldn’t choose this particular moment to betray that information without her speaking a single word. “It’s delicious,” she said benignly. “Thanks.”
“No probs. So, since we’re done with my interview, how about we turn the tables? I repeat my earlier question—how come I’ve never heard of you? I might be fairly new at this game, but reporters—especially ones like you—tend to get a bit of a reputation ‘round here.”
To buy herself a little bit of time to answer, she took another sip of the fizzy drink. Unfortunately, this time the bubbles had their usual effect, and a little burp escaped—there was nothing she could do to stop it. Horrified, she clapped a hand over her mouth, her face heating rapidly. God, how embarrassing. A hot guy wants to know more about you, and the first thing you do is burp in his face.
Rafe let out a snorting laugh, clearly surprised. “Ha! I’m so glad it’s not just me!” He chuckled, taking in her expression. “Hey, there’s no need to be embarrassed—these things happen. Bloody hell, you’ve gone red as a tomato. Here…” A glint in his eye, he reached into the bucket and scooped up some water, then threw it at her. “Perhaps this will cool you down!”
Gloria gasped as the droplets hit her—a combination of surprise and the chill—then stepped back. “You bastard! What the hell do you think you’re playing at? You could have ruined my clothes… or my phone!”
Still carrying the bucket, Rafe advanced on her. As he grew closer, she could see his pupils were dilated. Was it because it was gloomy in the closed-off workshop, or was he… turned on? “I don’t think a few droplets of water are going to ruin your clothes or your phone, Gloria. Don’t exaggerate. On the other hand, if I tipped the entire bucket of water over you…” He lifted it into the air and tilted it in her direction.
“Don’t you fucking dare!” She sidestepped out of his path and jogged away from him. He chased after her—no mean feat in his cumbersome leathers and boots—so she decided to play dirty. She hurried over to the Kawasaki and held out the can of Dr Pepper over the handlebars. Adopting her firmest tone, she said, “Put that bucket down immediately, Rafe Donovan, or this can of sticky, possibly corrosive pop is going all over the electrics and… stuff… on your precious bike. I might even pour some in the petrol tank!” She had no idea how to get the lid open, but he didn’t know that.
“Hey, hey, all right!” Rafe dumped the bucket on the floor so quickly that water sloshed over the sides. “It’s down, it’s down. I was only messing about, Gloria. I wasn’t really going to pour it over you. God, what kind of person do you think I am?”
“I don’t think you really want to know the answer to that question,” she replied coolly, still holding the drink aloft over the bike.
Suddenly, Rafe’s demeanour changed. His shoulders slumped and he seemed to get smaller, somehow, and dropped his gaze to the floor. “I’m sorry. I really was only messing about. Please put the drink down, or step away from the bike. Preferably both,” he added hopefully.
Rolling her eyes, Gloria did as he asked, moving away and putting the Dr Pepper down on the work surface near his helmet and gloves. She held her hands up, fingers spread. “See, done!” she said snidely. “We’re both unarmed. Do you think we can perhaps try to behave like adults from now on?”
As he quickly closed the gap between them, she again spotted the darkness in his eyes. She still hadn’t worked out whether it was the lack of light or arousal causing it, but she was definitely leaning towards the latter. Her suspicion was confirmed when he grabbed her wrist firmly, but not enough to hurt, and tugged her right up against him. She let out a squeak of surprise as she impacted his hard chest, but didn’t try to move away. She was frozen in place—a little scared, but at the same time eager to know what was going to happen next. Her heart fluttered.
“Adults, eh?” Rafe said, hooking his thumb beneath the strap of her bag and easing it from her shoulder. He placed it carefully on the floor beside them. “You want some adult behaviour, do you?” His tone was light, mocking, but Gloria was sure she hadn’t imagined the emphasis on some of his words, leading her to wonder exactly what he was getting at. She had an inkling, but was conscious of the fact that her attraction to Rafe—however unwanted and unwarranted—might be clouding her judgement. There was a tugging sensation low in her stomach. It seemed her body was reacting to his proximity, even if her brain was yet to be convinced.
“W-well,” she forced out through dry lips, “we are grown-ups, so I think we should behave like it.”
“Oh, good!” Rafe replied, grinning. “It seems as if we’re on the same page here. Excellent.”
With that, he released her wrist and slipped his hands around her waist, pulling her flush up against his leather-clad form. The heavy scent of the protective racing gear filled her nostrils, laced with something else—washing powder, deodorant, fresh sweat. Smells that were purely Rafe. But before she had time to work through the thoughts in her whirling brain and formulate some kind of verbal response, Rafe had leaned down and captured her lips with his.
Instead of balking, screaming, jerking away or slapping him, however, she surprised herself by letting it happen. He was sexy, smart and appealing, yes, but he certainly wasn’t boyfriend material. Surprising herself further, she went from letting the kiss happen to actively participating in it. Her arms had been pinned between their bodies, bent at the elbows, so she grasped handfuls of Rafe’s white T-shirt, fisting the material as his tongue sought access to her mouth.
She came to the speedy conclusion that Rafe Donovan, boyfriend material or not, knew how to use those perfect lips of his. He was an amazing kisser. Passionate, yet not too rough, he explored her mouth and tangled his tongue with hers in a way that made her glad she was pressed up against him. If she was standing independently, her suddenly jelly-like knees might not have held her up.
After several glorious minutes, Rafe broke the kiss and looked down at her with a grin. “I thought you said you were here to work, not have fun?”
Mirroring his expression, Gloria quickly replied, “I’m a woman—I can multi-task. Besides, you started it.”
“You’re right.” He nodded. “I did. And, if you’re willing, I intend to finish it, too.”
“Er…” What exactly did he mean by ‘finish it’? Did it matter?
“Gloria,” he said seriously, cupping her face. “I know this is all a bit sudden and crazy, but I have always, always, wanted to fuck a beautiful woman bent over my bike. I would very much like you to be that woman. But I require my women to be willing.” He raised his eyebrows, inviting a response.
Her mouth dropped open almost involuntarily. ‘Sudden and crazy’ didn’t even begin to cover it. Despite everything, though, despite all the reasons she should say she was most definitely not willing and run for the hills, she didn’t want to. She wanted to be the beautiful woman that Rafe Donovan fucked over his Kawasaki Ninja, to be the woman that, as a result of said fucking, he would remember forever, and hopefully fantasise about.
Somehow, she knew it would be an unforgettable experience for her, too. There was nothing stopping her from saying yes. Except…
“Do you have a condom?”
At her words, Rafe’s face dropped. He jumped back, fisting his hands in his hair, making it even more unkempt, and muttering to himself. Then suddenly he brightened. Something had occurred to him. Jogging over to the work surface, he then snatched up the keys to the van. “Don’t move!” he commanded, moving back to her. He gave her a quick kiss. “I’ll be right back, I promise. Please don’t go away.”
She nodded, amused, and watched as he hurried out of the back door of the workshop. As soon
as he was out of sight, she walked over and grabbed her can of Dr Pepper and downed it, eager to soothe her dry mouth and throat. Swallowing, she then let out an “ahh” of satisfaction before returning the can to the work surface. A large burp escaped, and she giggled this time, safe in the knowledge that nobody had heard her involuntary bodily reaction.
Now she turned her thoughts to her predicament. Was this really what she wanted? From the moment she’d met Rafe Donovan she’d had warring feelings about him, and now, providing he came up with the goods, protection-wise, she was on the verge of having sex with him. Bent over his motorbike, no less! In an analogy he’d no doubt highly approve of, things between them had gone from zero to sixty in… well, whatever was a quick time. She had no bloody idea—not that she was going to admit that to him.
Now he wasn’t near her, sending her hormones into overdrive and affecting her brain processes, she put her sensible side in control. Could she have sex with an interview subject? Should she? Was it unethical? Could she get into trouble at work? But then… how would they know? She certainly wasn’t going to tell them—or anyone, for that matter.
And what about… after? She still had two days left here before she headed back to London. Granted, some of that time would be spent writing, given she had to get her article turned in late on Sunday, ready to appear in Monday’s edition, but to round it off, she would need the race results, with an emphasis on Rafe’s race results.
But she could get those without being anywhere near him. So if she needed to avoid him, then it wouldn’t affect her ability to do her job.
Her brain threw in one last potential obstacle. He’s a practical stranger. Are you really going to get fucked over a motorbike by a man you hardly know, and will never see again after this weekend?
Just then, the door handle rattled and Rafe walked back into the workshop, his expression triumphant.
Well, she thought, her arousal ramping up at the sight of him, that answers that question, then.
Chapter Eight
Rafe locked the door behind him, then returned to the workbench and put down the van keys and a few foil packets. Then he turned to her with a smile. “You’re still here.”
“Well done, Captain Obvious.” The words tripped from her lips before she even realised she’d thought them.
Rafe’s eyes narrowed, and his smile turned evil. “Oh, we’re still playing that game, are we? Very well. I was rather enjoying it.”
She folded her arms and shot him a glare. “I wasn’t aware it was a game.”
Shaking his head slowly, he replied, “Of course you were, Gloria. You’re a smart woman, and you’ve been giving as good as you got. That’s no accident.” Seemingly done talking, he bent and started to remove his boots. One by one, they thumped to the floor, followed by his leathers, which he left in a heap beside the boots. He snatched up a condom, then walked towards her.
The removal of his gear had left him in his socks, boxer shorts and T-shirt—the former two in black. His hair was a mess, and his face, forearms and T-shirt were decorated in smudges of oil and dirt. He should have looked ridiculous, been completely off-putting in a sexual sense, but somehow, he wasn’t. In fact, quite the opposite. Much to her confusion and frustration, she wanted him more than ever—especially when she caught sight of the considerable bulge in the front of his underwear.
Christ, what was it about him? How did he manage to be a scruffy, dirty, arrogant arsehole and yet still have her willing—and eager—to bend over a motorbike and be screwed by him? Had she lost the plot entirely?
Or… maybe that was precisely why she was so hot for him. Because he was the bad boy, the bit of rough. He was different, exciting and dangerous, and her usual type was altogether more conservative. She definitely wouldn’t be sharing the details of her encounter with any of her friends. Instead, he’d be her dirty little secret, one she could recall whenever she was alone and looking for some sexy fantasy fodder to help her get off.
He stood in front of her and quirked an eyebrow. Lightly gripping her chin, he silently commanded her full attention and looked deep into her eyes. Then, in a low voice, said, “Last chance to back out, sweetheart. Like I said, I require my women to be willing.”
Despite the pop she’d guzzled in his absence, her mouth had gone dry yet again. Her heart pounded and she’d grown so slick between her legs that she wouldn’t be surprised if she’d made a wet patch on her jeans. She shook her head, but, still unable to form any words, decided that actions spoke louder, in any case. Knocking his hand away from her chin, she grinned and leaned in and kissed him, pushing up onto her tiptoes in order to reach. Then, hoping she looked as sassy as she suddenly felt, she turned and strode over to the Kawasaki. Reaching out, she then ran a tentative hand over the nearest handlebar, then over the smooth curve of the fuel tank and finally, the seat. It was fairly soft and squishy beneath her fingers, and she figured she’d be comfortable enough leaning on it as Rafe pounded into her. She just hoped they wouldn’t knock the bike over.
She shook her head and let out a little chuckle. Of course they wouldn’t knock it over—if it was even a remote possibility, Rafe wouldn’t have suggested this, let alone be going through with it. The damn bike was his life, and Gloria was about to be imprinted onto his memories of it—forever. The thought was thrilling and arousing all by itself, and her underwear—which she’d remembered, to her relief, were sexy ones today—grew even more damp with her juices.
The urge to be a part of Rafe’s deepest fantasy spurred her into action, and, still facing the Kawasaki, she undid her belt, followed by the button and zip of her jeans. Then she hooked her thumbs into the waistband of the denim and slowly, slowly, pushed the jeans down, leaving her black thong in place. She was glad that Rafe wouldn’t be able to see the slight tremble in her hands as she did so, and kept her eyes forward so she didn’t have to see his reaction—just in case she wasn’t living up to the dirty dream he’d had in his mind for so long. She wouldn’t be able to cope with seeing disappointment on his face.
She needn’t have worried. The guttural growl that came from behind her certainly seemed to give the impression that Rafe liked what he saw. As did the comment that followed. “Fucking hell, who’d have thought there was such a naughty tease buried beneath that straitlaced exterior? You are fucking perfection. And yes,” his voice was closer now, and she tensed in anticipation of his touch, “I do mean you, Gloria, not the bike. Though of course she’s perfect, too. But it’s you I want to fuck.”
They were so close to doing the deed now that Gloria bit back the comment she wanted to make about being glad he didn’t want to stick his dick in the fucking Kawasaki. She didn’t want to inflame his temper now, not when her nipples were hard and chafing against the material of her bra, and her pussy was slick and eager to be filled. Just because she could be in the confines of her hotel room with her hand between her legs inside fifteen minutes didn’t mean she wanted to be. Given the choice between masturbation and a real-life, red-blooded male, the latter won, hands down. Especially when that male was Rafe Donovan.
“I’m very glad to hear it,” she replied, hardly recognising the purr that had just issued from her lips. Bending over and placing her forearms on the seat of the bike, and thrusting her arse in the air, she continued, “So, what are you waiting for?”
Rafe cursed. Then Gloria heard the tearing of foil and the familiar sounds of a cock being sheathed in a condom. She pushed her backside out further. Immediately, Rafe smacked it, making her yelp.
“Mmm, very nice. I think I’ll give you a matching handprint on the other side, too.” Making good on his promise, he did just that and the startling sound of palm landing on buttock filled the air.
Crying out, Gloria relished the sensations that were whizzing around her body. Pleasure and pain had melded into one blissful feeling, which grew and grew, and she knew it wouldn’t be long before she climaxed. And Rafe wasn’t even inside her yet. He’d barely touched her!
His words having bolstered her confidence, she looked over her shoulder at him. Their eyes met. His were wide and intense, and without saying anything further, he leaned down and kissed her. The angle was awkward, uncomfortable, but Rafe somehow still managed to make it one of the sexiest kisses she’d ever had. He possessed her mouth with a ferocity that left her in no doubt that, any minute now, she was in for the ride of her life—pun intended.
As his tongue explored her mouth, his fingers pushed inside her slick, hot core. She moaned into his mouth, which spurred him on to up his game. He kissed her harder, faster, and added another finger to her pussy. Releasing his hold on her thong, he moved his other hand around to her clit. Gathering up some of the plentiful juices he found between her legs, he slicked them over her bud and began playing with it—stroking it, circling it, subjecting it to the occasional pinch.
Soon, the maelstrom of sensations barrelling through her body was too much. After breaking their kiss, she turned her head back to its natural angle and squeezed her eyes shut as her climax approached. She bit her lip as everything inside her tightened. Then the dam broke and she called out Rafe’s name as waves of bliss crashed through her again and again, wringing her out and leaving her panting onto the bike seat, her hot breath leaving a temporary damp patch behind on its surface.
British Bad Boys: A Bad Boy Romance Boxed Set Page 12