Page 43 of The Girlfriend's Guide to Dating a Biker
I smirked. “You’re catching on fast.”
“What makes you think you’re qualified?”
“I’ve just spent two hours proving it.”
“You mean you spent two hours watching me prove I’m a terrible student.”
“Or it was two hours of me enjoying the hell outta watching you try.”
She tried to fight a smile but lost the battle. Then, fuck me, she leaned in while placing her hand on my thigh. “How about you watch me some more after we finish eating. And if I manage to sink some balls, you tell me something about yourself that no one knows. If I sink none, I’ll tell you something about me.”
“Or I could just ask.”
“You don’t wanna watch me some more?”
“Darlin’, I don’t want you to move your hand from my leg. So, how about we stay right here, and you tell me anything about yourself that you wanna share.”
She eased back a bit but kept her hand right where it was. “Okay, but you start. I feel like I know less about you than you know about me.”
I took a lazy sip of beer. “Something no one knows, huh?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay,” I said, thinking about what I’d give her. “Here’s something—most people bore the hell outta me after ten minutes.”
“And yet, I’m still here?”
“You don’t bore me, Eden. You’re not afraid to say the shit you’re thinking. Half the time it comes out sideways, but it’s real. I’ll take that over fake bullshit any day.”
“So, I’m basically your favourite open-source disaster. My inability to filter is what you find hot. Not my eyes or my legs.” She was trying not to smile, but I saw it in her eyes.
“I’m all about your legs. But I want a whole lot more of that broken brain-to-mouth filter.”
Her smile grew. All over her face. And her eyes softened. “I don’t think you know what you’re signing up for.”
“You let me worry about that while you just keep being yourself.”
She lifted her hand from my thigh. I was so attuned to it there that I had my hand to hers immediately and was putting it right back. Holding her gaze, I said, “That hand’s mine now, sweetheart, and I’m not finished with it yet.”
Her brows arched. “Do you come with a user manual for this kind of bossiness?”
“The only manual you’ll get is hands-on training. Tonight’s lesson is touch me, keep touchin’ me, and don’t fuckin’ stop touchin’ me.”
She didn’t move her hand, and she didn’t stop smiling. What she did do was continue giving me her special brand of sass that I couldn’t get enough of. “Got it. But do you think it’d be okay if I used my hand to finish eating my burger? Like, is this how I file requests?”
“You file requests with your mouth, darlin’. And you’ll wanna be real convincing when you do.”
Her smile turned scorching. It said she knew exactly how to get her way.
Then she leaned in, slow enough to tease, brushing her mouth over mine in the barest kiss before deepening it, lips parting, tongue tasting. Hot as hell. Convincing as sin.
When she pulled back, her smile was pure trouble. “Was that convincing enough?”
I had my hand in her hair within a second and was tugging her back in close where I wanted her. “I was convinced the second you touched me. Now I’m just impatient.”
Then I kissed her. Hard. None of the teasing shit this time, just heat, tongue, and the kind of hunger I’d been holding back all night. She made a sound in her throat that went straight to my cock, and when her fingers dug into my thigh, I tightened my grip in her hair, keeping her right there.
The kiss turned heavy fast, every damn thing about her addictive. She was everywhere—taste, heat, scent flooding me until I was losing myself in her. Forcing myself to stop, I ended the kiss, breathing uneven, restraint stretched too damn thin.
