I wrap my fingers around his forearm and the thickness of it intensifies the deep throbbing between my legs. “I don’t care about that anymore,” I whisper. “I’m just… I’m glad you’re here.”
We stare at each other for a long heated moment and my small crappy apartment fills with a thick sexual heat that is stifling. I know he’s feeling it too.
“Maybe you could… stay for a bit?”
He licks his lips as his eyes drop down to my mouth, only for an instant, then he’s turning to Beckham who’s waiting in the hallway outside the door.
“Go on, Becks,” he says. “Take Nixie back to the hotel. I’ll stay here for a while.”
Beckham nods and then leaves without changing his expression.
My pulse goes into overdrive as I watch Jaxon walk to the door and close it. He’s wearing his leather cut with the skull in flames and Heartlands written across his upper back.
I always thought those cuts were so sexy, but seeing it on Jaxon in my apartment as he closes the door is something else. It’s beyond sexy. It’s out of this world. It’s surreal.
I have a biker of my own. And it’s not just going to be for a night. It’s not going to be for a few minutes on a pool table in front of everyone.
This could be it. I could be his Old Lady. His one true love.
Don’t get ahead of yourself, girl. You don’t know why he’s here.
He still looks tense and on edge as he comes back over.
“Want a drink?” I ask as I head over to the pantry. “I have some red wine.”
“That sounds great,” he says as he sits down at my kitchen table and watches me as I struggle to open it.
“I’m always so bad at this,” I say as I fumble with the opener. “My first day of waitressing, I cut myself so badly opening a bottle of wine that I had to go to the hospital and get a stitch. I was bleeding everywhere. All over the poor customer’s filet mignon. I still have the scar. See?”
“Come here,” he says as I hold up my index finger.
I have butterflies in my stomach as I go over to him. He pulls me onto his lap as he looks at it. This time I don’t push off him. I enjoy it. I breathe in his rich masculine scent. I melt against his hard body. I close my eyes and let the feeling of finally being home wash over me.
“It’s such a little guy,” he says as he takes my hand. He brings my old faded scar to his lips and kisses it.
My heart is pounding as I stare at him. He’s so hot up close. He’s got a face you can stare at for hours. That an artist would kill to sketch. His nose is big and bold, and on any other face it would be too much, but on him… it’s perfection.
I swear my cheeks are bright red and I’m worried he can feel the heat emanating from between my legs as I admire his features, so I hop off his lap and continue with the wine.
Finally, I get it open and pour him a glass. I sit down at the table next to him as we sip it. We talk for a long time. Until the empty bottle of wine is in the recycling bin and a second one joins it.
He tells me about his club and how he’s looking for a change. “The time for risks are coming to an end,” he says as I try to keep the hearts out of my eyes and stay focused on his words instead. “We have Nixie to take care of now. That’s what I like about the Seneca chapter. They’re trying to go clean. We’re hoping that after we take care of this for them, they’ll let us stay.”
Maybe it’s the wine, but I’m grinning from ear to ear. He does want to stay. Maybe there is a future here.
I open up and tell him about my parents back home and how I ran out of the house at sixteen years old. I haven’t told anyone that since I left, but with him, it comes out so easily. So naturally, as if we’ve known each other for years. He holds my hand on the table and listens intently to every word I say.
By the time I stumble to the bathroom and look at my rosy cheeks in the mirror, I’m in love. “He’s so hot,” I whisper to myself and then break into giggles. “Don’t fuck it up!”
He’s got this way about him that is intensely appealing. His eyes have this possessiveness to them as they follow me wherever I go. I like how he looks at me like that. I like thinking that I’m his and that one day he’s going to lay ownership on me.
“It’s dangerous to drink and drive,” he says with a grin when it’s after midnight. “You don’t want me getting hurt, do you?”
“Of course not,” I tell him with a smirk. “You can sleep on the couch.”
He looks over at the small couch I found on the side of the road and runs a hand through his long blond hair.
“You want me to lie on that? Where am I going to put my legs?”
“I’m not a club slut,” I say with a sharp tone. I just want him to know that. “I’ve never been with any of those guys at the club. I’ve never been with any guy, actually.” Shit. The wine talking. “And I’m not about to give it up after only one day of knowing a guy.”
“All right,” he says as he walks over to me. He’s so big. He’s towering over me, making me feel so tiny. He takes his
