Page 72 of Look at Her and Die

I didn’t say bye to either one of them as I closed the door behind me.

The moment I appeared on the front porch, his gaze moved up to find mine.

His eyes traveled all the way down the length of my body, taking in the white ribbed tank top, the tight ass jeans—new jeans might I add—and my boots. Boots that he’d bought me last week when he’d also gotten me the helmet.

His lips turned up at the corner, and I knew that he was thinking the same thing that I was thinking.

He looked incredibly fuckable.

Jeans. Tee. Boots. Truth Tellers MC cut.

And that signature baseball hat, this one all black, turned around backward on his head, his black hair curling out around the sides. Hell, even the dog tags around his neck, nestled in between his pecs, was doing it for me.

I was addicted to him.

Ever since we’d had that one night together out in the middle of nowhere on the side of that road, I’d turned into a monster.

I wanted him, over and over, as many times as he would allow me to have him.

He watched me walk toward him, and his eyes landed on my chest.

I knew why, too.

My nipples were hard as hell, and seeing as I wasn’t wearing a bra, he could see every bump on my areola.

Luckily, the ribbed tank was thick, so despite the white color, you couldn’t see through it like you could’ve with all of my old tanks.

“I’m at my girl’s house,” he spoke into the phone. “We’ll maybe talk about this later.”

My girl’s house.

A ball of butterflies took root in my belly, and I had to resist the urge to blush as I kept walking toward him.

My girl.

Was that what I was to him?

“Ready?” he asked, reaching for my helmet and moving away from his bike.

I didn’t have a problem with putting my own helmet on, but for some reason, he did.

He always put it on for me, but only after he leaned into a deep kiss.

A deep kiss that he repeated today, pulling me deeply into his body as he leaned over and pressed his mouth to mine.

Tingles shot down my spine at his arousal pressing against me, and I shivered against him.

“Ready,” I whispered before once again returning to our kiss.

The kiss went on forever.

So long that the neighbor across the street yelled, “Get a room!”

I wish.

“Who was that on the phone?” I asked as he mounted the bike again.

“My mother,” he grumbled. “She wants me to go to a charity ball for the Y in town. She says that it’s for a fantastic cause, and that I’ll regret it if I don’t go.”

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