The sight of him as he mounted the bike with a deft grace only heightened the tough, manly picture he made as the motorcycle roared to life.
A thrill shot through her as he turned his head in invitation. With distinctly less grace than he’d shown, she crawled behind him and onto the growling black-and-silver beast.
Aidan revved the engine and Kaylee let the vibrations tingle through her. She fixed the moment in her mind as she wrapped her arms around him and they took off.
It was her dirtiest dreams come true, Aidan between her legs, his jeans abrading her bare thighs in a way that drove her mad. She pressed her breasts against his back, sighing at the delicious pressure as she tightened her hold, speed measured by the wind on her skin.
The ridges of his abs were evident through the soft white cotton of his T-shirt, and Kaylee ran her nails over them, loving how they tightened beneath her fingers and how he punched the speed of the bike in response.
She’d been waiting for this her whole life. For Aidan to want her.
And despite what he might think, this wasn’t about fairy tales or girlish wishes.
Aidan made her feel alive. And she craved him for it.
She wasn’t looking for forever. She was looking for right now. That wicked thrill she got from misbehaving. From knowing her family wouldn’t approve. It was her catnip. She couldn’t resist the excitement of it.
Aidan took a hard right, and Kaylee looked around, curious about the unfamiliar neighborhood that was a fascinating blend of commercial and residential. Older warehouses and a lot of auto-body shops and parts stores randomly butted up against old single-story, flat-roofed houses with a distinctly ’70s vibe. After a few more turns, Aidan slowed the bike and approached a two-story structure that, judging by the faded paint and two big garage doors on the front, used to be some sort of repair shop.
The garage door on the left began its ascent, and Aidan drove inside and cut the engine. The motorized hum of the door closing behind them accompanied Kaylee’s dismount from the bike, her body still vibrating from the ride as she removed the helmet and drank in the odd building.
This side was definitely a garage, with massive silver tool chests lining the wall to her left and another motorcycle—vintage looking, from the ’50s or ’60s maybe—tucked off to the side. But to the right there was a living room, with an area rug on the concrete floor.
There was a heavy bag hanging from the ceiling, as well as a weight bench and a couple of other pieces that functioned as a gym area.
The back half of the bottom floor housed a kitchen full of stainless steel and exposed brick, and a room with a large window. When this place had been a functioning auto shop that room must have been the office. Beside that was a set of stairs that led to whatever occupied the second level.
It was kind of a loft, kind of a work space, very industrial and, in a weird way, seemed to embody the man beside her, straddling the line between rough and civilized.
Aidan grabbed the helmet from her and set it beside his on the seat of the bike.
With a speculative smile, she wandered out of the workshop area toward the living room setup to their right. She felt more than heard Aidan follow her as she dropped her bag on the couch and stopped in front of the coffee table.
There was a large steel sculpture on it, fire morphing into a herd of running horses. The detail was incredible, the flames blending seamlessly into the manes of the fleeing animals. She reached out to touch the fire, so intricately wrought she half expected it to burn her, but instead the smooth, cold surface leeched heat from the pad of her finger.
Max had something like it on his desk—less intricate, but similar—a horse with a mane of flames.
She glanced over her shoulder, intending to ask about it, but rather than standing on the edge of the area rug where she’d expected him to be, Aidan had taken a seat in the armchair, knees wide apart. His left hand was on his thigh, his right elbow on the armrest as he ran a hand over his beard, watching her with a look of such contemplation that it sucked the breath from her lungs.
Kaylee turned fully to face him. With shaking hands, she ran her fingers up the zippered edges of the front of his jacket before dropping it from her shoulders. She paused for a moment, working the art of the tease, enjoying the tingles that ran along her nerve endings as Aidan’s eyes raked over her body. It was...thrilling, the taut, hungry look on his face, knowing that she’d put it there. Take that, Lola.
She let gravity and the weight of the leather drag the jacket the rest of the way down her arms before pulling it off and tossing it onto the couch.
Her breath came faster as she watched him look at her, trace her body with his gaze. He flexed the hand on his thigh, and the realization that he was imagining touching her made her wet. Just like that. Ready for him.
She’d thought that night in the supply closet had been potent, but it was nothing compared to this.
They hadn’t spoken in days, but Aidan knew exactly how to break their word fast with deadly, sensual precision.
“Take it off.” His voice was low, gruff, but it exploded in the silence, ricocheted through her chest.
Kaylee reached for the hooks of her corset.
“Not that.”
She looked up.
“The wig.”
The words stopped her heart.
Heat washed through her body. With shaking hands, she tugged off the blond wig and her wig cap together. Aidan’s jaw flexed as her dark hair uncoiled, stoking the performer in her. She tossed the wig onto the couch and shook her head a few times so that her hair spilled over her shoulders.
He shifted in the chair, and power prickled across her skin. He might be giving the orders, but he was as much under her spell as she was under his, and she loved it.
She raised her hands to the top hook and paused, quirking an eyebrow in question.
Aidan swallowed, the muscles in his throat working even as his tongue darted out to moisten his lips. He was so intensely masculine, and having his total focus on her was heady in the extreme.
He gave a curt nod of permission, and Kaylee’s body turned liquid and wanting as she began the familiar process of unhooking the corset. But if the action was familiar, the desire was not.
In the club during one of her shows, there was an anonymity to the sexy striptease, a coyness and irreverence that gave her near nudity a bawdy sense of fun. Now every move was purposeful and serious and dizzyingly sexy.
As the last hook came loose, excitement rippled over her skin. There was something so intense about the momentous step of taking her clothes off for this man. Of him knowing her identity, of them having sex as themselves.
A shyness she wasn’t used to reared up as she gripped the sides of the corset and prepared to remove it.
This was him.
This was her.
Without her Lola persona, she was suddenly and uncomfortably aware of her body.
“Kaylee.” His voice was a pleading growl that infused her with courage.
That first night in the club, she’d thought she’d wanted to dance for him, a private striptease to seduce him, show him how different she was from his memories of her as a shy, awkward teenager. But now that the moment was upon them, she found it wasn’t what she craved at all.
She wanted Aidan to want her tonight. Just her. Not the stage show.
He’d pulled her out of the club.
He’d told her to take off the wig.
Those facts gave her the courage, and just like that, she dropped the corset. No showmanship, just honesty.
And sparkly pasties.
His breath came out as a curse, ratcheting up her excitement.
Aidan shifted in the chair, leaning forward. “Come here.”
Kaylee obeyed, walking toward him in her heels. The jersey skirt rode up her thighs with each s
tep.
She wanted to touch every inch of him before this night was over, but she forced herself to draw out the anticipation, stopping in front of him and waiting until he managed to pull his attention up her body to meet her eyes.
“Well?” She laced the question with challenge. “You got me here. Now what are you going to do with me?”
His face darkened with leashed passion and he dragged rough fingers down her belly with such gentleness that her heart clenched. When he encountered the waistband of her skirt, he began inching the black jersey down her hips, his fingertips skating down her thighs until he reached her knees and gravity took care of the rest.
Then Aidan flattened his hands on her skin, releasing an electrical storm as he ran his palms up the backs of her legs, over the curve of her ass, to her lower back. His thumbs stroked the sides of her torso just below her waist, and through it all, he didn’t break eye contact.
It was perfect. Soft. Dreamy. A sweet moment of restraint before the wave of lust crested and swallowed them both.
Aidan’s hands tightened, his fingers digging into her flesh, and she felt him fight it, trying to hold on to that calm, peaceful moment before the storm of desire swept them both away. He pulled her closer, just a step, so her shins were touching the rough fabric of the chair between his spread legs and his forehead rested against her abdomen.
She pushed her fingers into his hair, cradling his head there.
His breath raced across her skin, leaving a trail of goose bumps that disappeared under the shocking heat of his tongue before reemerging with a vengeance.
He pressed his lips to her skin, dragging them up her stomach before kissing a path between her breasts. Kaylee braced her hands on his shoulders as he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her onto the chair with him as he leaned back.
Bracing a knee on either side of his hips, she straddled him and slid her hands up his neck to cup his jaw, to hold him still as she lowered her head and captured his mouth.
She’d told him that he fucked like a stallion, but he kissed like a damn poet, perfect rhythm, every stroke of his tongue and nip of his teeth wringing so much feeling from her that he could probably bring her to orgasm just from making out. Tonight, though, she wasn’t patient enough to test that hypothesis.
She lowered her hips, pressing herself more fully against his erection.
He broke the kiss with a curse, but she had only a second to lament the loss of his hands on her body before he reached over his shoulder, grabbing a fistful of white cotton and tugging his T-shirt up and off, revealing acres of warm, golden skin.
“Aidan,” she breathed, needing to say his name just to prove to herself that this was happening, that it wasn’t a dream. Her fingers ached to touch him, to restore order to his shirt-mussed hair, to trace the dips and swells of his chest.
But there would be time for that later. First, she needed to get herself naked so she could feel him everywhere.
She cupped her breast with her left hand, the action immediately capturing Aidan’s attention even before she tugged the skin taut with her thumb. He leaned back in the chair to watch, and his hips lifted, grinding against hers as she wedged her fingernail beneath the edge of the pasty and peeled it from her skin.
She watched the rise and fall of his chest as she repeated the same steps with the other pasty.
He ran his calloused palms up her back, pulling her toward him, and Kaylee braced her hand on the chair as he captured her nipple with his mouth, nipping and sucking until she was writhing against him.
“Do you need these?” He hooked a thumb between her hip and her panties, tugging the lace away from her skin.
“What?”
“Are they important for your act?”
“Not really. I—”
He ripped one side with surprising adeptness, then the other.
“I’ll buy you new ones,” he promised darkly, tugging the ruined lace from beneath her and tossing it on the floor.
Aidan wrapped his arms around her and pulled her hips flush with his, and she gasped at the rough friction of his jeans against her clit.
Oh gawd. And she’d thought she’d been keyed up that night in the bar. This was a hundred times more potent, though, because this time when he looked at her, he wasn’t seeing Lola.
Aidan stood up, taking her with him. She wrapped her legs around him and braced herself for the ride.
CHAPTER TWELVE
SHE WAS DRIVING him fucking crazy.
He needed to get her up to his room so he could have her the way he wanted to, laid out like a feast on his bed. But she kept distracting him, slowing his progress toward the stairs.
Her hands were busy, reaching between them, unbuckling his belt, unbuttoning his jeans.
Then her eager fingers breached the elastic of his boxer briefs and came in contact with his pulsing cock. Almost stumbling with the mind-numbing pleasure of it, he shoved against the nearest pillar so he could pull himself together.
Both of them groaned at the increase in pressure.
“Here’s good. Please. I need you inside me.”
He wanted to relent, to sink into her over and over until the desire raging through him was sated. It took everything in him to shake his head, to still the mindless rocking of his hips. “No,” he ground out, though if she didn’t stop stroking his cock like that, they weren’t going to make it to the bedroom like he’d intended.
He dragged a ragged breath into his lungs and pushed her legs down from around his waist. When her feet touched the floor, he stilled her hand with his.
He braced his other palm on the pillar beside her head, trying to make his brain work, trying to make her understand before he fucked this up. Already her mouth had gone slack, and her muscles tensed, preparing to withdraw. He’d do anything to erase the hurt and confusion seeping into the dreamy, hazy lust of a moment before. “I missed out on you the first time, KJ. I’m not rushing this. Not again.”
Her eyes widened, and swirling in their depths was relief and desire and something else he couldn’t name that almost knocked him to his knees. And for the first time in the history of ever, a woman letting go of his cock got him even harder. He grabbed her hand, and once again the heat of anticipation built between them while he tugged her up the metal staircase that led to his bedroom. Only this time, he knew exactly who was behind him.
He needed to get his fucking jeans off so badly that she was almost running to keep up with him by the time they’d made it up the stairs and crossed the threshold to his bedroom. He toed his boots off, pushing jeans, underwear, and socks off in one move. Then he stood there, naked, torn between savoring the view of her crawling onto his bed and grabbing a condom from the end table.
Condom first.
He ripped the package open, stifling his groan at the contact and pressure as he rolled it on. He was so fucking hard for her, so desperate it hurt. And now she was on her knees on his bed and he wasn’t sure he was going to be able to make it last like he wanted.
“Aidan?”
She bit her bottom lip as he joined her on the mattress, on his knees, stopping scant inches from her, not quite trusting himself to touch her and listen to her question at the same time. “Yeah?”
That mouth was going to be his downfall, no doubt about it. “We’ve got all night to do this as many ways as you want, so please put us both out of our misery and fuck me now. No one’s ever literally ripped my panties off before, and I’m so hot for you I can’t stand it. We can go slow next time.”
His arm was around her waist before she finished talking, and he hauled her up against his body, the warm, wet heat of her aligned with his throbbing cock.
Her whimper undid him as she undulated her hips, working her clit up and down his erection, taking her pleasure as she wrapped her arms around him and her nails bit into his back. He wished to fuck h
e hadn’t put the condom on yet because the sweet slide of her pussy along his length was so damn good and he didn’t want to think he was missing even a fraction of it.
He buried his free hand in her hair and pulled her head to the side so he could lick her neck, mark her with his teeth.
“Come for me this way. Grinding on my cock.”
She shook her head, even though her hips continued to rock. Her fingers dug into his skin. “I need you inside me.”
“After,” he insisted. “I want to watch you get yourself off first.”
Kaylee gave in to his demand with a moan he felt under his skin. She sped her rhythm, and he lifted his hips to meet hers on each downward slide, increasing the force of the friction until she was biting her lip, clutching his shoulders.
Then she cried out and came apart for him, and it was frantic and messy and goddamn perfect.
“Jesus, KJ. I want to fuck you so bad,” he growled, biting her bottom lip as she reached between them, grabbing his dick, positioning herself over him.
“Do it,” she whispered, and then he was sliding home, and it was so much better than he remembered from the storage room. Hotter. Sweeter.
Time slowed, and what he’d expected to be a frenzied mating of mouths and tongues and bodies turned way more profound. He wanted to kiss her, but he couldn’t stop staring at her, watching her.
Her face was so expressive, her desire so raw. He was on edge just bearing witness to her passion.
He laid her on the bed, her ankles hooked over his shoulders, and the sexy little catch in her breath increased his pace.
This should have felt wrong, but it didn’t. It felt so fucking right that he thought his heart might pound all the way out of his chest. She was gorgeous, pink lips parted, dazed with pleasure, and he wished she wasn’t wearing those damn blue contacts, because he didn’t want any part of her hidden from him right now.
She reached up, put her palm on the back of his neck, fisted her hand in his hair.
Pleasure crackled over his skin like a gathering electrical storm, but something darker and more profound was building low in his gut, and the dual sensations drove his hips forward with more purpose. And still, with so much sensation set to break over him, he clamped his jaw tight. He wasn’t going under without her, so he took his cues from her soft sighs of pleasure, the way her orthodontist-perfected teeth caught her bottom lip.
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