Page 36 of Fang

Fang stiffens in surprise, then he turns and his arms come around me, returning the embrace. We stay like that for a heartbeat too long, the contact shifting from gratitude to something else—something that makes me pull back abruptly, my cheeks warm.

“Puerto Escondido.” I clear my throat and step away. “You said that’s on the coast, right?”

Fang nods, his eyes lingering on my face before returning to the screen. “Remote enough to be secure, but accessible by good roads and an airport.”

“Why move him there?” I wonder aloud.

“According to these notes, the facility specializes in long-term care for chronic conditions,” Fang says, scrolling through the file. “It’s smaller than this clinic, more private. Easier to secure. We’ll need transportation, supplies, and a better plan than tonight’s,” Fang says.

“Can you call Scalpel again?”

“I’ll see what I can do.” He glances at me, then away. “You should get some sleep. Big day tomorrow.”

The mention of sleep brings an uncomfortable awareness of the single bed, of how we’ll need to share it again, this time with the memory of his muscular body pressed against mine in that supply room.

“What about you?” I ask, but it comes out all breathy and soft. Not what I intended at all.

“I’ll join you as soon as I have a plan for tomorrow.”

“Okay.”

Later, I’m woken when the bed shifts under his weight. The mattress groans, and I try not to groan with it. He can’t help but press against me. There’s nowhere else to go.

“Did I wake you?” he asks softly.

“Yeah, but it’s okay.”

“I still value my balls, so there’s nothing to worry about,” he murmurs against my ear.

A whole body shiver shimmies through me. I’m sure he felt every inch of me quiver. Pressing my lips together, I manage to keep myself from saying anything stupid.

When his breath eventually slows and becomes a rhythmic caress across my neck, I relax slightly. I’m still wet and thick with desire, but what my body wants and what I want aren’t the same thing. Getting into another relationship with a member of a motorcycle gang, no matter how altruistic they might appear, isn’t a good idea. Men like Fang live for danger. I’ve spent enough time around dangerous men to last a lifetime. It’s not something I want to keep doing. Ultimately, that’s the only reason I’m keeping my hands to myself.

Silently grumbling, I try to put at least a breath of space between us, but he’s still right there. Hot, dirty, and… Ugh!

“You keep wiggling against my dick and we’re going to have a problem,” he growls.

“Are we?” I blurt, turning to face him.

“Mina,” he whispers, reaching a finger up to trace my cheek.“You should roll over and go to sleep before you say anything else.”

“What if I don’t want to say another word?” My gaze drops to his lips—plump and so damn kissable. I can’t think. I can’t breathe. All I can do is wait to see what he’ll do.

As he slides his fingers into my hair and pulls my mouth toward his, my soft whimper fills the room. This is so stupid and crazy, but I can’t bring myself to stop him. Not when he brushes the first feathery kiss across my lips. Not when he deepens the kiss, swiping his tongue across mine, begging for more. Not even when he consumes my mouth with his.

I’m lost.

And stopping him is the last thing on my mind.

Chapter 14: Fang

I drag her closer, one hand sliding under the oversized t-shirt she wore to bed, the other gripping her thigh hard enough to leave marks. She bites my lower lip, the sharp pain shooting straight to my groin. I groan, a sound I barely recognize as my own. After keeping my hands to myself the last few days, this is absolute bliss.

Without breaking the kiss, her fingers tear at my clothes with frantic urgency. She shucks my shirt and reaches for my boxers. I stop her by wrestling her t-shirt over her head. Tossing it blindly behind me, I turn to find her nearly naked. Her tiny breasts rise and fall with her breath, and all I want to do is suck on them. So, I do.

Pulling one plump nipple into my mouth, I lap at the little bud. She tosses her head back, moaning and clutching my shoulders. As she presses against my mouth, my cock pokes at the fabric of my boxers. I should have let her take them off earlier.

The underwear must go. Mine first. Then hers. And now, we’re completely exposed, hot and wanting, staring at each other like we’ve never seen another naked body before, but I’m sure that’s not true. She doesn’t strike me as a virgin, which is good. Who wants to deal with that drama? Not me.

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