Page 16 of Wild Heart
Although I’m betting The Fuzzy Peach isn’t one of the Berone clubs. It’s not classy enough.
She’s got some explaining to do, and I’m still angry when I cut the engine outside the club. There’re people milling about and men hanging out around the smoker where the meat for tonight has been tenderizing all afternoon.
“Make a distraction, will you,” I say to Marcus.
He nods his understanding, and I wait until he goes over there and knocks the smoker over. There are roars of outrage, and I shake my head in disbelief. Knocking over the smoker isn’t what I had in mind. You don’t mess with a man’s meat.
But it does the trick, and all hands rush over to right the smoker and see what meat can be salvaged.
Isabella is quiet behind me, and when I slide off the bike and turn to her my breath hitches. She’s straddling my bike in her tiny skirt that rides all the way up her thighs. And with my helmet framing her face and her looking up at me with wide, innocent eyes, it’s all I can do not to pull her to me and kiss her painted lips.
Then I remember who she is. There’s nothing innocent about Isabella Berone.
“Keep your head down,” I tell her. “And don’t talk to anyone.”
She slides the helmet off and I take her hand firmly in mine, not risking the chance that she’ll run off. Not that there’s anywhere to go. The HQ is in a compound in the middle of the woods on a side of a mountain. She’d be a fool to run here, but I’m not taking any chances.
“You’re hurting me,” she hisses, and I loosen my grip. That’s the last thing I want to do, but I don’t trust her not to run.
While the men are distracted, I hustle her through the door and pull her down the corridor.
Snips and April are pressed against the wall smooching like it’s the end of the world. The entire goddamn club is hooked up these days.
Snips’s eyes go wide with recognition when he sees Isabella.
“Not a word to anyone.”
Snips nods even though I can tell he’s dying to ask me questions. I hustle her past and pull her into the meeting room.
I lock the door behind me and pull all the blinds down. When I’m sure we’re alone and no one can see, I turn to her.
She’s resting with her butt against the edge of the meeting table. My jacket hangs loose on her, falling to her thighs and barely covering the poor excuse for a skirt she’s wearing.
The first thing I’ll need to do is find her some decent clothes.
There’s blood on her leg, which makes me frown. I didn’t notice she’d hurt herself. But it seems like a surface scrape.
Despite myself, my gaze travels up her body to her exposed midriff. Her Italian heritage gives her skin a tanned complexion, with dark Mediterranean hairs visible on her body. She’s got a full figure, and I love that she’s not afraid to show it. I long to run my hands over her skin, to feel the tiny hairs stand on end under my touch.
My cock hardens in my jeans, and I force myself to look at her face.
I desperately want to adjust my pants to ease the pain from my hard-on pressing against my zipper, but I don’t want to make her any more uncomfortable than this already is.
“Start talking.”
It comes out as a growl and we eye each other warily, both with our arms folded across our chests.
“What?” she says mock innocently. “Isn’t a girl allowed to earn a bit of extra cash of her own?”
She’s trying for a flirty tone, but the way her chest rises and falls erratically gives away the fact that she’s nervous.
“You’re not any girl, Isabella, and I’m sure you have enough allowance for anything you desire. Your father’s not stingy.”
She eyes me warily and I stare her down, trying not to get lost in her green eyes. Eventually a shiver goes through her, and she lowers her gaze.
“I wanted to shock my father.”
I nod slowly. I was right about that, but she doesn’t look me in the eye, and I wonder if there’s more to it.
