Page 50 of Mine for 24 Hella-Hours
“Yes, what?” He studies me.
Am I getting addicted to our exchange?
“I would like to go on a date with you.”
“Yeah,” that wicked smirk again; concocting another plan, “imma need to see your license first.”
I can’t shake the laughter it evokes in me while I rest my forehead on his shoulder.
“I want to see your beautiful face when you wake up again.” He breathes me in. “I don’t want to fuck you for a weekend. A day. An hour. I want to explore your mind and body. Be consumed by your thoughts, emotions, and your heart. I want to get to know you. Your many shades. Your essence. Your energy. Your love.” He rains kisses on my hair and every available spot he scours.
My heart is melting in my chest.
“Was that a trap? The deal.” My fingertips skim over his neck and throat, tracing every part of him.
“Maybe,” his eyes infiltrate mine. “I had to make you come back somehow. It’s always fun when an unexpected element is involved.”
The genuine stare we share gets punctured when that damn curve at the edge of his mouth rises. “I’d like to think I’m not a jerk or self-absorbed but the better question is—am I the fairy of the dating scene?”
The temperatures increase throughout my body. “You’re a different breed, Luka Birmingham.”
“I’ve been compared to a dog before by Ronnie.” That gorgeous laugh of his lifts a smile on my face.
“How so?” I question.
“I’m the protective one who’s waiting for his owner’s permission.”
“Are you?”
“Maybe,” he draws a line along the gap between my breasts, “as long as she lets me have fun sometimes and do things my way.”
“Deal.”
He pulls me by the nape of my neck into a long, deep, feverish kiss.
My fingers flick the bar piercing his nipple from side to side.
He gasps. “Wildflower.”
I’m high on the effect it has on him as he grows thicker inside me again. I grasp the marker that is lying on the edge of the table and write on the inner side of his palm,Yours for 24 hella-hours.
Epilogue
One year later
“Whereareyou,”hechants to himself what he is typing on his phone, waiting for my sweet ass to arrive. “Wildflower.”
The sexy image of my man on his bike in the parking lot of his building is alive before my eyes.
“I’m here!” I chant back. “Had to wear my new jacket and gloves.”
“And you look hella-sexy in it.” He checks me out from head to toe and that beautiful grin I can’t get enough of forms on his face.
I spin to show him all angles of what he loves so much. Me.
“Is my backpack ready for the ride of her life?” His feet dangle in the air while he sits backward—totally intentional—like the cutest thing in the whole wide world but a devil underneath his biker’s dark, sexy jacket.
“Hell yes,” I giggle as he climbs off, bends down so I can jump on his back to settle us both on the bike. Then he pulls me closer by my thighs and a wide grin crosses my face.
