“You’re good at this compliment business,” I observe.
“You don’t believe me?” He rolls and somehow I end up underneath him. This isn’t a hardship, particularly when he eases my glasses off my nose and sets them down on the bedside table.
Still, a girl has to have her principles.
“You’re a player. I don’t think we should be talking about this.”
“You don’t have anywhere to live. You’re looking for a place.”
“True.” Moving sucks, but getting summarily evicted with zero warning hurts even more. Playing by the rules hasn’t won me the prize. I had a master plan and the execution seemed straightforward. Bachelor’s degree from an Ivy. Master’s from the same. Fill my 401K and my checking account, get a place of my own and conquer the career track before turning thirty. Stay at a prominent investment firm or start my own company—it’ll be my choice. I’ll find a guy who shares my goals and values and we’ll get married. Settle down in our McMansion, discuss whether or not we want our 2.3 kids and when. I thought Mark was that guy, The One, and if he hadn’t been my One and Only, he’d have certainly been good enough. Now I have to start all over again.
“So why not live with me?”
“Because it’s really freaking hard to find Mr. Right when you’re shacking up with...with...”
“Mr. Right Now?” Vik beams at me. “Not a problem.”
He has no idea.
I push him up and roll off the bed before I do something really stupid. Such as riding him like a cowgirl. Or reverse cowgirl...yeah. I like that plan. Of course he follows me, putting my strategic retreat at risk.
“You really want to find Mr. Right?”
I stare out the window. The Bellagio has awesome views of the Strip, all blinking, whirring lights and waterworks. If I have to be homeless, this is definitely the place to do it. I shouldn’t be whining about being out of a place when I’m here and so many other people are less fortunate.
“I do,” I say to my reflection. “I really do. It’s what I’ve been planning.”
“And you like your plans.” Vik’s head nods in the glass. I think he might actually understand, not that it matters. He’s not the one in charge of my life or my dreams, although I kind of like hearing that he doesn’t think I’m crazy. Not that he’s said that, but I’m reading between the lines.
“Being organized is important.”
“I’m not looking for any kind of right, Mr. or Ms. I’m not boyfriend material.” He plants his hands on either side of me. I could duck. I could go left or right.
I don’t.
His mouth finds my ear. “Ask me what I’m good at, Harper.”
“Do tell.”
“Fuck buddy,” he says roughly. “I’m the best toy ever and I don’t even need batteries.”
The man makes an interesting point. He’s not my Mr. Right but since those plans are temporarily on hold...why not seize the moment? We can be friends. Hang out. Explore some sexy side benefits. Maybe he’ll even take me for a ride every now and then, and I’ll...fuck if I know what I have to offer. I’m solid and stable and way too boring for a man like this.
“You think too much,” he says roughly.
“Impossible.” I scoot around so I can see his pretty, pretty face because he’s even more fun to look at than the Strip.
And then he kisses me, ruining everything.
Vik doesn’t kiss me soft, doesn’t lead up to the main event. No surprise that he’s all in, his mouth taking mine in a hard, thorough kiss as he catches my face in his hands. Heat shoots through me as fast and high as the fountains outside. He knows just how to flip my switch and get me going. Pure animal heat. I’ve been kissed before but never like this.
I fist his hair, dragging him closer.
I’ve never wanted anyone more. Or faster. All the hot, painful, pent-up need inside me explodes as I kiss him back. When my knees actually go weak and I sag against him, he chuckles and lifts me like I weigh nothing at all.
“Legs,” he whispers against my ear, and I shiver. I do what he says, or try to. His hands bunch beneath my butt, arranging me. Fabric tears because pencil skirts weren’t made for man-humping, but do I give a fuck? No, I do not. My legs part around his waist and then I’m grinding against his dick. God, his dick is spectacular. It’s as big and thick as every other part of him, and I ride it shamelessly. I don’t care that I’m pressed up against the glass, giving the entire Strip a show.
Vik kisses me back like kissing me is the only thing that matters right now. His tongue leaves no inch of me untouched, stroking deep and then light and then who knows what the hell he does but it’s so goddamned amazing that I pull at his hair, steering his head in search of more. He hangs on to me like letting go just isn’t possible, and I like it. I like him. There’s just something about this biker that makes all of me weak.
Or to be more specific, his hands definitely make me weak. One calloused finger traces the edge of my panties. The big, bad wolf is knock, knock, knocking at my door and I’m ready to beg him to come in and eat me up.
This needs to stop.
But...
He slides a fingertip beneath the lace trim. He’s not stopping. He’s...
A tease.
Because that finger does stop moving, and it takes all the willpower I have not to wiggle until it’s right smack on top of my clit. And then I’d have a few directions for him. It wouldn’t take long, not the way he has me worked up.
“Test ride,” he growls, his mouth so close to mine that I could make him my own personal lollipop and lick him.
“What?” Proximity has short-circuited my brain.
“Take me for a
