Vik’s eyes narrow. “I’m going to count to three. If you want to keep all those fingers, you let go before I finish, you feel me?”
Rev laughs. “Feeling possessive?”
Vik nods vigorously. “I’m her booty call. She doesn’t have time for you.”
“I. We—”
I can feel my face going up in flames, but Rev just laughs.
“She had me undressed within minutes of arriving.” Vik gestures down his chest with his hand. As if anyone could have missed all those glorious, naked muscles. And the ridges...the tempting, tempting ridges of his perfect abdomen.
I finally manage to wipe the drool off my chin and respond. “You are not my booty call.”
Vik winks. “I offered. You didn’t say no. Plus, I’m totally fine with you using me for sex.”
I think he means it.
This just makes my face redder, which makes Rev laugh harder. It’s a vicious cycle, and another example of why I have no business being at a biker party. Vik snags my hand and starts towing me deeper into the clubhouse. Eventually, we hit the bar at the back of the building. It’s louder here, the music a deep, throbbing bass that I can feel pulsing through the floor beneath my feet. It’s a wonder everyone here isn’t permanently deaf.
Vik snags a barstool, deposits me on it before I can protest and then leans back against the bar. His shoulder bumps mine as he grabs my hand and starts playing with my fingers.
“You get a place sorted out yet?”
“I’ve only been homeless for two days,” I point out. I excel at multitasking and getting stuff done, but even I have my limits. “I’ve got appointments tomorrow to look at a few rentals.”
“You could move in with me.”
I choke on my drink and he pounds me on the back, careful to avoid my new ink.
“Too fast?” He takes the cup and sets it down on the bar.
“Yes,” I wheeze. “When did we discuss this?”
“What?” He blinks at me innocently, but his eyes twinkle.
“Sex. Booty calls. Moving in.”
“Yesterday.” He settles his hands on my thighs and pushes gently. My stupid knees part like the Red Sea and he takes full advantage, stepping between them. Dark eyes stare into mine. My nipples don’t understand that Vik is like this with every woman he meets. They perk up at his proximity, super-excited that we have a big, sexy biker spreading our thighs.
Stupid nipples.
“Yesterday you gave me a tattoo,” I say suspiciously. “At what point did we discuss becoming roommates?”
He rubs my thigh gently. Frankly, this doesn’t seem like roommate behavior. Also? I enjoy it way too much. If we actually shared a place, there’s no way I wouldn’t jump the man.
“You should relax. You’re tense.”
“Because you’re crazy.” Someone clearly has to be the voice of reason here. I’m not sure I’m qualified though because his hand drives me crazy and I’m having serious thoughts about wiggling lower to see if he really is as uninhibited as he seems.
His hand moves higher, and all logical thought vacates my brain. Not only is he crazy, but he cheats.
“Tomato. Tomatoh.” He looks supremely unconcerned.
Since I’m right, however, I can’t let it go. “We never discussed moving in together.”
His hand curls around my thigh. Thank God for denim. It’s almost thick enough to allow me to block out the fantastic sensation of those fingers easing up my thigh. Or the other places he could put them. Some of my very favorite places.
“You were distracted.” His breath ruffles my hair. If he gets any closer, he’ll either be in my lap or we’ll be simulating sex in public. A quick glance around the clubhouse tells me that no one will notice. There are bikers wrapped around girls, and girls wrapped around various combinations of bikers. It’s all very un-PG. People dance, they drink and grind, and apparently they fuck.
In public.
I yank my gaze away from the pool table in the corner of the clubhouse. There are things you can’t unsee, like the penetration occurring on the green felt surface.
“Yesterday,” he says helpfully.
“What about yesterday?”
“I volunteered myself as your booty call. You did not say no.”
“Silence isn’t a commitment.” For example, I’m totally thinking about a dozen dirty things he could do with his tongue, but none of those are actual requests.
“You’re breathing hard. Are you thinking about me?”
Yes, yes I am.
I deflect. “Are you really that conceited?”
“I’m that good.” He slides his hand upward.
I think he’s fully prepared to finger me in public. I grab his hand, stopping its upward movement.
“We’re in public.”
“So you’d let me touch if we were alone?” He leans in, his mouth brushing my ear. “Good to know.”
“No.”
He winks. “I’m even better than your imagination. Let me show you. I make the best friend with benefits.”
“Vik—”
“My benefits are huge.”
“We are not friends with benefits,” I say firmly. I need to get out of here before I forget that and launch myself at him. Stupid body wanting its own personal biker toy. I’m ready for my forever man and happily-ever-after, not a fun diversion. I have my life all mapped out and there’s no pit stop for Viking pillaging.
“Maybe I inked my number on your ass last night after you expressed your interest in me.” He picks up my hand, running strong thumbs over my palm. With each pass, I melt further.
“You told me you were giving me a firebird.”
OMG. He didn’t, did he?
“Shhh.” He keeps a gentle hold on my hand, turning my arm in his grip. From somewhere he magically produces a Sharpie and uncaps it with his teeth. We both lean in, our heads almost touching, as he scrawls a phone number over my skin.
“Something important?”
He draws the Sharpie down my arm. “Mine.”
The possessive note in his voice really demands some kind of response. He doesn’t let go of my arm, either. Instead, he starts drawing. Roses and vines. Big, bold flowers. I may never wash again.
“Am I your Etch-a-Sketch now?”
“You deserve flowers.” He adds
