This was easier in theory than practice.
I really, really didn’t want to be attracted to Puck.
God obviously has a vicious sense of humor. Here I was, a walking, talking portrait of sexual dysfunction, and the only guy who really got me going happened to be the scariest biker I’d ever met. The motorcycle club was supposed to be a deal breaker. It wasn’t personal—more of a “been there, done that, got my lifetime supply of psychological trauma” kind of thing.
Puck was exactly the opposite of what I wanted and needed, yet my stupid body just wasn’t getting the message.
Unacceptable.
Then he reached down and caught that big cock in his hand, giving it a stroke. I stopped thinking and settled in for the show, figuring if God was going to betray me by creating a body that only responded to Puck, I might as well enjoy it. It didn’t occur to me that maybe I shouldn’t be spying on him. Not even a little. Of course, nothing good ever happens when you spy on someone.
Sometimes you get caught.
Sometimes you see horrible, horrible things . . . like Carlie Gifford stepping into view and dropping to her knees in front of the guy you absolutely don’t want anything to do with under any circumstances—not even a little—and sucking his dick deep into her mouth.
I’d never been under any illusions about Puck. The night I’d met him, he’d fucked me harder than most women experience in their entire lives . . . but I knew I wasn’t anything special in his world. Hell, he’d brought women to breakfast at the diner regularly whenever he was in town. Guess that made him a gentleman, because at least he fed them after a night spent hot and heavy under the sheets.
Still, knowing he was fucking around and seeing it in living color right in front of you are two very different things.
This was where I should’ve backed away. Scuttled off like a good girl, gone back into my apartment and gone to bed. Definitely the smart thing to do.
But when her mouth wrapped around him tight and he dug his fingers deep into her hair?
I couldn’t have dragged my eyes away if my life depended on it. So I watched as her cheeks hollowed and sucked him in. So wrong on so many levels, and utterly compelling. Need and desire grew between my legs as her fingers dug into his ass. I still remembered exactly how it felt when he’d come deep into my own throat all those years ago.
It was wrong.
And when his entire body tensed before he pulled free and sprayed all over her face?
That’s when I realized my fascination with Puck was deeply fucked up. I needed to meet some other man. Any other man. Maybe before I took a job down at the Bitter Moose, I should go check it out for myself. See who might be there. Somewhere in the world there had to be a guy as sexy as Puck who wasn’t a biker. I just needed to find him.
There had to be a sweet spot between lonely cat lady and full-on biker whore like my mom. Not that I had a cat—yet. But one of Regina’s was pregnant and she’d been talking about giving me a kitten.
When I got it, I’d already know how to make it sundresses . . .
No. No more cat dresses. I’d just have to suck it up and start screwing random guys until I found one that worked right.
Standing unsteadily, I backed away from the window, tripping as I knocked over the empty wine bottle with an unholy rattle of metal flashing. It startled Blake, and he sat up abruptly, rolling Danielle off to the side with a thud. She squawked in outrage. This would’ve been of far more concern to me if I wasn’t suddenly teetering toward the end of the fake roof facade, hoping rather desperately that the two-foot-high barrier would be enough to keep me from going over the edge.
“Fuck,” Blake muttered, diving for me. He caught the side of my shirt and yanked me back. Hard. The fabric tore wide open and we fell back down on the roof together with a thud.
When I caught my breath, I discovered that I was straddling Blake with both legs spread wide. His arms held my half-naked upper body against him—tight—and the tops of my breasts pressed firmly into his face.
“Are you all right?” Danielle asked, her voice short and breathy. I blinked, trying to figure that out for myself. Then Blake made a snorting noise and wiggled his head.
“Shit,” I muttered, pulling back. I’d been smothering the poor man. “Blake, I’m so sorry! Thank you for saving me, though.”
Blake took a deep breath and coughed, then gave a slow grin.
“If you really want to thank me, shove those tits back down into my face.”
“Don’t make me use my gun,” Danielle muttered, her voice dark. I blushed fiercely, realizing that regardless of whether it was because he’d been making out with Danielle or because I was currently grinding my crotch deep into his, the man was hard as a rock.
Then Blake was rolling me to the side and I was lying on my back, wondering what the hell just happened. Shit. There was no way Puck could’ve missed all that noise outside the window.
Wasn’t that just perfect.
I considered checking his window to see if he was watching. Did I really want to know? Uh-uh. Retreat was the better part of valor under the circumstances. Not only that, despite my crash into the roof, my bits were still a little tingly from watching Carlie suck him off, which was creepy and weird. Then I remembered my idea.
“Let’s go to the Bitter Moose,” I said, sitting up. “Get dressed up, go dancing or something. If I’m going to start working there, I should see what it’s like at night. Maybe find a cute guy while we’re at it.”