Page 19 of The Belle and the Biker

Tiddlywinks yips at me as we enter the foyer. I open the purse and show her to Carlisle.

"How very…interesting. It's a…?" He trails off.

"Dog!" I say in exasperation. Why does everyone ask that? "Her name is Tiddlywinks."

"Very good, madam."

A wave of emotion floods me when we get to my bedroom. It looks the same as when I visited as a child. The four-poster bed is topped with a lacy white canopy. The milky-white globes of the table lamps are painted with roses. There's a wood stove in the fireplace, and the armoire is adorned with a hunting scene in folk art style.

A vase filled with fresh flowers rests on a doily on the bow-legged desk by the window. The pattern of the lacy white curtains held back with white tasseled rope tie-backs matches the canopy. And there, resting on the pillows, is my old one-eyed teddy bear. It belonged to Aunt Hepzibah as a child, and I used to hug it fiercely when I slept here.

Carlisle sets my suitcases down by the bed.

I throw my arms around him and hug him hard. He stands there, astonished, momentarily before awkwardly patting my back.

"What's that for, ma'am?" he inquires when I let go.

"For always being nice to me." I sniffle discreetly. "For still being here. For putting up with my aunt and always watching out for her. For sneaking me cookies and sandwiches when I was a little girl, and my mother had me on a diet."

"I'm sure I don't know what you're referring to." A small smile tugs at his mouth. "Will you be needing anything else?"

"No, thank you."

He nods gravely. "Good night, madam."

I collapse into dreamland almost immediately.

Crash is there waiting for me.

He's naked, standing next to an enormous bed.

I'm wearing a filmy dress with a hem that floats. Hey, it's my dream, and my clothing doesn't have to obey the laws of physics. Crash is on me in a second, and he grabs the neckline and hem and tears the dress right off me.

"Bed," he growls and pushes me, nothing gentle in his touch. It shouldn't turn me on, but it does.

I stumble and fall onto my back on the bed, and he's on top of me in a heartbeat, a marauder's glint in his eyes.

"Caveman."

He smirks. "You love it."

"Like I love a knockoff Prada purse."

The marauder's glint brightens into something almost maniacal. "Sounds like you're begging me to shut you up, princess."

He's on top of me in seconds, kissing me hungrily, leaving no quarter or room to breathe. His beard is a rough scrape against my skin, and every nerve in me clenches. I grit an incoherent plea behind my teeth, but I won't beg unless he makes me.

Shuddering as that thought ripples through me, I inhale as he kisses his way down my stomach—I instinctively suck it in.

"Stop that," he snaps. "I don't want less of you. I want all of you. I'll have every inch of you before this is over." He sinks his teeth into my skin in punishment, and I yelp.

"You animal! You bit me!"

"I'll do more than bite you. The next time you try to hide from me, it'll be a spanking. And not a sweet, playful spanking."

This is the second time he's threatened me with that. This is the second time I've had to stop myself from whimpering, "Please."

He moves between my legs and laps me with his tongue. My thighs clamp around his head instinctively, my hands digging into the sheets.

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