Page 47 of The Girlfriend's Guide to Dating a Biker
“I didn’t think anyone would be here!”
“Lucky me.” His stare slid to my lips, heavy with want. “Been thinking about you for two days straight, and now I find you like this.”
Then he kissed me, and oh god, two days was definitely too long. His mouth claimed mine with a hunger that left me boneless while he gripped my hip and backed me against the wall. My package hit the floor with a thud as I surrendered to his kiss, grasping his jacket to steady myself.
When he broke the kiss, I asked, “Where have you been?”
A shadow passed through his gaze. Regret maybe? “Club business. It couldn’t be helped.” He traced his finger along my collarbone. “But I’ll make it up to you tonight if you’re free.”
“Oh?”
“Come over. I’ll cook for you.”
“You cook?”
“There’s a lot you don’t know about me yet.” His sexy smile made my insides turn to liquid. “Say yes. I made sure we wouldn’t be interrupted tonight if you were free.”
The implication that he’d been thinking about me and planning this made my ribcage feel suddenly too small for what my heart was doing inside it.
I thought about the blonde woman, about the questions still swirling in my mind. But the way he was looking at me, like I was all he was thinking about . . .
“Yes.”
He kissed me again, softer this time but no less devastating, then asked, “Is seven-thirty good for you?”
“Yes. I’ll bring dessert.”
“No need. I’ve got it covered.” He paused, his eyes darkening as they swept over me once more. “I’ll see you then.”
He let me go, but as I walked away, he called out, “And Eden?”
I stopped and turned back to him. “Yeah?”
“Much as I love seeing you like this . . . I don’t like other guys staring. Wear whatever you want but just know that I don’t share well.”
That statement should have been a neon hazard pop-up window: do not click, girl. My heart ignored it completely. It smashed “accept all cookies” on his possessiveness, and speedran straight into screaming YES, UNLOCK NEXT LEVEL.
Current status: Trying to decide what to wear while simultaneously trying not to read too much into the fact that he’s been planning this dinner. Also contemplating whether it’s too early to text Megan for a fashion crisis intervention.
Me
FASHION EMERGENCY
Me
HE’S COOKING ME DINNER
Me
AT HIS PLACE
Me
TONIGHT
Megan
On a scale of 1-10 how much are you freaking out?
