Page 43 of Savage Lust

My makeup was spread out across the counter. I’d used my hair straightener, and it was put up on a shelf with my styling products. Maybe not mine, but Archer’s house was starting to feel like somebody’s home. Or at least a place where I could pretend—if only for a little while.

Cam and I had spent almost twenty-four hours pretending. Not much of that time talking. And I was okay with that. Making love to him, again and again, was as thrilling as the first time. Then we’d slept late, and he’d made me breakfast.

If I stopped to think about it, then deep down, it all felt wrong. Because I wasn’t supposed to be here, wouldn’t be here long.

Our lives were very different.

I was faking a lot of things. Well, notonething. I still didn’t know what to do with it. Cam Savage wasn’t anyone’s boyfriend, but I’d never considered myself the type of girl who just…did things like that.

I wasn’t exactly a girl anymore, either. I was a grown woman. And as such, could do whatever the hell I liked with my body. And I’d liked that a lot. Too much, probably. And intended to keep doing it so long as I was here.

That thought was thrilling in a way I hadn’t expected, making me warm and tingly all the way down to my toes.

Evenings cooled off quickly, so I wore a short, cropped short sleeved shirt that showed off about an inch of bare stomach before the hem of my high waisted jeans.

Cam waited for me on the carport, leaned against the seat of his bike, legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles, smoking a cigarette and scrolling through something on his phone.

Cam’s slow look started at my feet and traveled all the way to meet my gaze. The warm, sexy flicker in his eyes was both a reminder and a promise. I shivered with anticipation about six seconds before silent awkwardness settled over me. Unsure what to do with my hands, I shoved them in my pockets.

He hadn’t said specifically that I was riding with him. I’d assumed, because I wanted to. And now he was looking at me expectantly.

“Am I following you? I wasn’t sure, since I’ve never been to APs, I didn’t know if we were going together—”

“We’ll ride.” He rubbed his lips together, half distracted, and stood. “Wait here.”

He made quick work of the steps up to his apartment and came jogging back down them quickly, something black and leather in his hand.

“Let’s try this.” He held out a worn, short jacket. There’d been patches on it at one time. You could see the small indentions where they’d been sewn on.

I moved, allowing Cam to slip it over my shoulders, and then spin me around to zip it. The weight of the leather was heavy, and it smelled cool and woodsy. It was a little long, hanging to my pockets and just over my thumbs, but it fit.

“Whose is it?”

He ran his knuckles down the front of it, his face quiet. Almost like he wasn’t sure what was happening. “Mine. Yours now, darlin.” He stepped back to examine his handy work and this time, whatever had bewildered him was gone.

“Thanks.” I didn’t tell him about the tingling sensation in my chest. Neither of the two women he’d booted from his apartment last night were wearing anything of his. But I was.

With a tie I pulled from my pocket, I twisted my hair at the nape of my neck as he put the helmet on me. The swing of his denim clad leg over the bike was sexy. Pretty much everything he did was. I climbed on behind him and settled onto the seat.

seventeen

Riley

Each ride was different, but the tingling sensation when I pressed against him was constant. This time was slower, cruising through Dry Valley, not blazing down the highway, the rush of exhilaration ripping the breath from my lungs.

I relaxed behind him, hands on my knees, and took the time to check out the revitalized downtown district. The evening was late enough that most storefronts were dark. But there were enough bars and restaurants that steady foot traffic filled the sidewalks.

The roar of Cam’s bike echoed off the brick buildings that butted up against mountains on one side. The reverberation drew attention. Awe from the teenagers, envy from the men, and something else entirely from the women.

I understood. Cam Savage had that effect, with his slicked back blond hair, short on the sides, lanky denim-clad legs, and dark blue plaid flannel shirt. But it wasn’t the handsome facethat got the attention. No, it was the smug arrogance. He knew people watched, and he didn’t give a shit.

And this was the biggest turn on of all. When he caught me watching him through the mirror, he winked.

As we continued on, I noticed other things. The cop that didn’t even look up when we passed, and the gold and black stickers on some of the storefronts…Desert Kings logo and all.

AP’s house wasn’t out in the desert like the clubhouse, or in one of the tidy neighborhoods like Archer’s, but right on the edge of downtown. There were trees here, and grass in places. The neighborhood was older and with a good deal more character than Archer’s. This was the sort of place where the homes spanned generations.

A few kids played out in a yard. All of them glanced up as Cam rolled down the street and pulled into a long, large driveway.

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