Page 7 of Never Distract a Biker

"Yours?" He leans against the hood of a sleek black car, his posture deceptively casual.

"Financial," I say simply, biting my lip. "And temporary."

He arches an eyebrow, genuine curiosity flickering in his eyes. "Sounds like a story there."

"Maybe." I shift my weight, suddenly self-conscious under his scrutiny. "Everyone has a story, don’t they?"

"What’s yours?"

"Personal." The word comes out sharper than intended, but I don’t want to go into details.

He doesn’t push, but his gaze stays locked on mine. "Fair enough. Do I take it I’ll be seeing you here for a while then?"

A small smile tugs at my lips despite myself.

At least he still wants to see me.

"I’ve only been at it for a little over a month. The plan is to get out once I…” I bite my lips as I almost said once I find a sugar daddy.

“Once you what?”

“Once I hit my mark.”

"Quite the target," he muses, his sharp features softening under the glow of the streetlight. "And you don’t want to say how much or why you need it?"

"No." I tighten my grip on my coat, suddenly acutely aware of how little it covers. "It’s personal."

He steps closer, the faint scent of his cologne—a mix of spice and something darker—filling the space between us. "Must be important if it brought you to this place," he says, his voice low and edged with something I can’t place. "Maybe I can help."

I blink at him, startled. "Help? Why would you want to do that?"

"Let’s just say," he begins, tilting his head, "that I’m invested in the welfare of talented individuals."

Talented. A wry laugh escapes me before I can stop it. Is that what I am now? A talented stripper? And maybe a talented escort once I’m able to get a hold of Marina.

"Thanks, but no thanks," I say, looking away. "I can handle it."

His eyes linger on me, intense and searching, but he doesn’t argue. The silence between us is thick, charged with something neither of us acknowledges.

The chill in the air bites at my exposed skin, but his proximity is like a furnace, drawing me in despite myself. He steps even closer, his presence overwhelming.

"You must be cold," he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper.

Before I can respond, he pulls me against him, his hands firm yet gentle on my waist. The hard press of his body against mine sends a jolt of awareness through me, igniting something I’ve never felt before.

"Yeah," I breathe, my voice trembling. It’s not the cold that has me shaking now.

His lips hover near my ear, his breath warm against my skin. "I want you," he says, the words rough and raw.

The stark admission sends a shiver down my spine, and I can barely muster a response. "Then take me," I whisper, my voice barely audible but heavy with meaning.

His grip tightens, and for a moment, the world around us fades away. There’s only him, his piercing blue eyes locked onto mine, and the dangerous allure of whatever this is between us.

Without a word, he takes my hand, his touch both commanding and tender. He leads me through the shadows to his car, a sleek predator crouched in the dim light. The door clicks open, and before I can second-guess myself, he sweeps me inside.

"Hurry," I urge, my voice husky with a need I barely recognize.

He doesn’t hesitate. The door shuts with a soft thud, sealing us in. His body covers mine, the leather seat cool against my back as his heat consumes me. Our lips meet in a crash of hunger and desperation, a kiss that obliterates all thought.

---