“That didn’t take long,” someone says behind us.
Rooster groans and sets me down. Keeping an arm around me, he turns to glare at Jigsaw.
I’d be embarrassed, but I really just want to keep kissing Rooster.
Jigsaw’s gaze darts between Rooster and me. Asking him some silent question? Rooster gives him a subtle head shake and tightens his hold on me. Jigsaw lifts his hands as if he’s surrendering.
What’s up with that?
“Sparky, I need to give you back your shirt.” I grasp the hem to lift it up, even though my dress is probably still see-through, but Rooster stops me.
“I’ll get it later,” Sparky says, with a good-natured smile. He slips on his helmet and holds out his hands, palms up. “We going or what?” he asks Jigsaw.
“Yeah.” Jigsaw slaps Rooster’s chest twice. “Z wants us at the table no later than six.”
“Got it,” Rooster growls.
“I have to work at five,” I say.
“Nice meeting you, Shelby.” Jigsaw grabs his helmet and nods.
The rumble from their bikes is deafening. I can’t imagine what it must sound like when all three of them are fired up. Jigsaw takes off first, and Sparky follows. Rooster watches them until they turn the corner. The aggressive roar of the bikes can be heard long after they’re out of sight.
My gaze strays from the direction the bikers went to find Rooster watching me intently. “What are you doing until five?”
I tug my sticky, damp dress away from my skin. “Well, I’d like to shower and change.”
The corners of his mouth quirk. “I can help you with that.”
Oh, wow. My heart flutters like a hummingbird on a sugar binge. I might be in over my head here.
Chapter Three
Rooster
Shelby’s either getting sunburned, or she’s shy. She didn’t kiss like a shy girl. But the offer to soap her up leaves her flustered.
My bad. We just met. She’s not some random club girl. Offering to shower with her less than an hour after meeting might have been a bit much.
“Where are we going?” I ask.
Must not have scared her too much. She gives me the address and enough directions to find her place. “It’s about seventeen minutes—”
“Seventeen, huh? That’s real specific.”
She blushes and unleashes that pretty smile again. “Off 1-10 West. I hope it’s not out of your way.”
“Not at all. We’re staying at a ranch off 291.”
“There are a bunch of them.”
Ranch probably paints the wrong picture. It’s more the compound of a club we’re friendly with down here. Four different clubs have taken up residence on the six hundred acre ranch this week. Hanging out. Partying. Conducting business. Strengthening alliances. Most of the officers, including me, have rooms inside the massive clubhouse. Everyone else is either bunking in a tent on the property or wherever they find room. Every night’s been a party. I’d like to bring Shelby back with me. It should be calm during the day. But she’s also an unpatched woman walking into a clubhouse that’s housing a lot of different bikers.
“I’ve noticed.” I reach over and grab my helmet, handing it to her. “Lot of open spaces.”
“Bet you don’t see that in New York.”
“I’m a good hour or two above the city. We have lots of rural areas. It’s just flatter here.”
“We have mountains.”
I chuckle. “Those are hills.”
She laughs, not offended.
“Where’s your helmet?”
“I’ll be fine.” I study her long dress and sandals. “I’m more worried about you riding in that dress and open shoes.”
“I’ll be okay.” She glances at the bike and winces. “I think.”
“I’ll go easy.”
That must be enough to reassure her. She eagerly climbs on behind me and wraps her arms around my middle. Feels good having her soft, warm little body hugging mine. Been a while since anyone’s been back there.
“Hang on.”
The sunglasses I slipped on keep most of the dust and road dirt out of my eyes. But don’t do a whole lot to keep bugs from smacking into my cheeks. I take it easy through the city and open it up a bit more on the highway. Shelby’s a good passenger. Moves when I move, but, otherwise, she’s pretty still.
For some absurd reason, I’m jealous that she might have done this with another guy.
Her place is easy enough to find. A modest home on a postage-stamp sized piece of property. Modest might have been too generous. As I pull into the narrow, cracked driveway, I notice the yellow exterior could use a fresh coat of paint. Someone tried to cheer the place up by painting the trim a bright green. Can’t say it’s an improvement. Not that I’m judging. I mean, for fuck’s sake, I live in a clubhouse with a bunch of bikers back home. More like a girl as sweet and pretty as Shelby should live in nicer surroundings.
Shelby braces herself on my shoulders to hop off and hands me the helmet. She’s fidgety as all hell now. “It’s no ranch.” She waves her hand at the house. “I live with my mom.”
Something about that makes me sadder.
“She home?”
“No.” She stares at me for a minute then tugs on the T-shirt she’s wearing. “Do you want to come in? I should probably give this to you, so you can give it to Sparky. I feel so bad he had to ride without his shirt.”
“He’ll be fine.” Actually, he’s probably fried to a crisp right about now. Fucker almost never leaves the basement. This is more sun than his pasty skin has seen in a couple years. But the more my club’s been mixing with our upstate charter, the better I’ve gotten to know Sparky. It doesn’t surprise me he’d give a girl the shirt off his back. Even if he knows damn well, he has no chance of bagging her.
And while Shelby looks damn fine in my club’s colors, I can’t say I care for her wearing another man’s shirt. Even if it belongs to a brother and was for an emergency.
Her fidgeting only increases as we approach the front door. She slips a key out of her purse, opens the door, and steps inside. A wave of heat rolls over us, and she rushes to crank the knobs on an old window unit. It does little to cool the place off. I stop to unlace my soggy boots and leave them by the front door.
“Do you want lemonade? Iced tea?”
“Sure.”
“Which one?”
“Whatever you’re having.”
She hesitates and glances over her shoulder. “Uh, I was going to take a shower.”
I step closer and curl my hand over her hip. “Have some tea with me first.”
“Okay.” She turns, and I follow her the short distance into the kitchen.
There’s a small round table with four off-white chairs. I nod to the impressive line of bask
ets nailed along the top of the wall like some country version of crown molding. “You collect ’em?”
“No. My mom does.” She grabs two glasses, setting them on the counter with a thunk, then moves to the refrigerator. “You want half-and-half?
“What’s that?” I can’t really think with her bending over in front of me.
“Half lemonade, half tea.”
“Sure. I’m pretty easy to please, Shelby.”
“Ugh.” She sets the two pitchers on the counter and whips off her shirt.
Now I really almost lose my frickin’ mind. But no, she’s not getting naked for me. There’s a washing machine in the kitchen, and she tosses the shirt in. “Do you want me to do yours?” she offers.
The corners of my mouth twitch. “Then I’ll be shirtless.”
“I was—”
I slip off my cut and drape it on the back of one of the chairs. “I’m just messing with you, Shelby.”
I toss her the shirt, and she catches it midair. My jeans are what really need the wash. As if she heard the thought, her gaze drops to my crotch, but she doesn’t offer.
Pulling one of the chairs all the way out, I turn it, so I can watch her. After the laundry’s started, she brings over the glasses, setting one on the table in front of me. Before she moves away, I place my hands on her hips and turn her to face me. “Thanks.”
“It’s the least I can do after what you did for me today. You and your friends.”
“You looked terrified. I couldn’t leave you.”
She ducks her head. “I feel so silly now.”
“Don’t.” I pull her closer, so she’s standing between my legs, then sit upright, placing my hand at the back of her head, drawing her down for a kiss. Haven’t stopped thinking about getting my mouth on hers again.
She tastes like sugar and lemons.
A soft moan drags out of her throat, and she staggers closer.
I bring my hands to her hips again, slowly sliding her dress up and encouraging her to straddle my lap, so I can keep kissing her. Fuck if she doesn’t slide right into my lap like she was made for me. She presses her hot center right up against my already stiff-as-fuck cock, and I groan.
Abruptly, she pulls back. “I’m not having sex with you.”