Page 9 of Craved By Gray

The hot achy sensation between my legs and the weak tremble of my knees. An effect that only this man seems to bring out in me.

“What are you doing here?” I demand, trying not to let the weight of his stare unnerve me, but it’s a losing battle.

“Your father sent me, I just said that.” Did he? I don’t remember. In fact, I can’t seem to make my mind focus on anything but the way he smells. God, it’s all leather and musk with warm hints of wood. I could bury my nose in his neck and live there forever. “It also provides a good opportunity for us to talk.”

“Talk?” I breathe.

“About your father and his illegal activities.”

But I don’t want to talk, I nearly whine. Least of all about my father or anything to do with the man. No, I could name three or four things I would rather do with Gray than just talk.

Get a hold of yourself, Scarlett!

“Can I get you something to drink?” I ask, pulling away from the man if only to offer my fogged-up brain a moment of reprieve. “I was just about to grab breakfast.”

“It’s half past noon.”

Is it? “Oh, right. I must have lost track of time.”

“Doing what?”

I don’t need to see my own expression to know that I’m spotting a dear-in-headlights look. Heat climbs up my cheeks at his question. It’s a simple one with multiple responses; the realm of possibilities is endless.

I could say that I was working, watching a movie, or even napping. All of which are to be expected on a lazy Sundayafternoon. And yet, I mention none of those, stuttering through my words as I try to look for something that is the opposite of “touching myself to a portrait of you that I painted.”

So I settle on, “Nothing.” It’s spoken way too quickly to not seem suspicious. “So, water or coffee? It’s too early for wine or anything alcoholic, although some may say that it’s five o’clock somewhere, so it doesn’t really matter what time you drink. But if you ask me, wine should not be… Oh!” I gasp when I feel Gray step up behind me. A shudder rolls down my back when he brushes my hair to the side, exposing my neck before leaning to whisper against my ear.

“What were you doing before I showed up, Scarlett?”

Chapter Four

Gray

It’s ironic, almost comical that in a city of a million women, I would become obsessed with the one that is forbidden to me. The one who belongs to a dangerous rival club. The only daughter of a freaking psychopath.

The kicker? I don’t even need to seduce her into helping me. No, the girl is all too willing to bring her father down, albeit a little scared, but willing nonetheless. Considering that, I ought to keep my hands to myself.

I shouldn’t touch her.

The truth is, I never anticipated getting lost in her pretty eyes. For my fingers to ache with the need to touch her, to be close to her…

My cock is hard, every nerve in my body thrumming with need for this forbidden fruit. I should steer clear of her, keep these fantasies in my head far away from her, but Christ, I can’t help myself. Her scent, the little breathy sighs she makes, all strip me of any self-control.

I’ve made mistakes in the past. None as dangerous as the one I am about to make right now, but I wasn’t always so great at my job. Before joining the Rebels, I was a delinquent with a strong hate for authority. Like most of my MC brothers, I came from an unstable home, and I found myself surrounded by what could be considered the “wrong crowd.” As luck would have it, I was arrested a few weeks short of my eighteenth birthday and tried as an adult. An eighteen-month sentence for identity theft was fate’s version of a joke. My life would have gone very differently if that angry teen hadn’t shared a cell with an older Rebel serving time, the closest thing to a father I ever had, he ensured I had somewhere to go when I left jail.

That was ten years ago.

I’ve assumed different identities over the years in my role as a mole for the Rebels and skill with easily blending into all kinds of crowds. Not once in that time have I come close to getting caught. Not once have I forgotten my mission to chase after a woman.

Somehow, it’s different with her.

There is so much on the line, but I can’t move past the delicious way she smells to focus on what brought me here. I can’t stop my face from sinking into her hair or my nose from inhaling deeply at her sweet floral scent.

She smells like a field of flowers. Roses and lilies. Soft and warm. So goddamn intoxicating.

Fuck!

Pete Brehmer isn’t supposed to have any sexual desire for the Chrome Vipers’ president’s only daughter. He is not supposed to picture her pretty lips wrapped around his cock, caressing his balls as she takes him deeper into her throat. It’s crazy the number of times I jerked my cock raw last nightthinking of this pretty girl on her knees or turned around, hand braced on the wall as I slid my dick in and out of her tight pussy. I’d make her purr with every caress of that sexy body.

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