From the second she walked in wearing that almost indecent little black dress, I’ve been captivated by her. Despite my head demanding that I look at any of the other women who are strutting around this place with everything on display, for some reason, my eyes refuse to look anywhere but her.
She worked the room like a pro after ripping her gaze from mine not long after she arrived. She knows what she’s doing, greeting every other biker with one of her winning smiles, some she’s more friendly with even get a hug.
The second one of my brothers touches her, my fists curl behind the bar and jealousy rages through me.
It makes me feel like a fucking idiot, and not just because I know that I had her exactly where I wanted her yesterday. But because, like a fucking pussy, I backed away. I did the right thing—for once in my fucking life—and I didn’t let her use me to forget for a few minutes. Hell, I’d give her a lot more than a few measly minutes if that’s what she really needed. But we both knew it wasn’t.
A roll around in that abandoned mill and a few screaming orgasms wasn’t going to fix anything. They weren’t going to magically make her mom better, and they weren’t going to make things right between her and Styx. Damn it, they would have made her feel good though, a hell of a lot better than being rejected.
Hurting her was the last thing I wanted to do. But I managed to royally fuck that up. And my attempt to keep an eye on her seriously backfired when I was the cause of practically the entire club being sent out to look for her.
“Sex on the beach. Virgin,” I tell her confidently, remembering that she asked a question. “Made it, especially for you.”
If she’s impressed by that in any way, she doesn’t show it.
“As fun as that might sound. I’m not interested in a virgin, Ryder. I prefer my fun to be a little stronger, full of attitude, and pack a punch.”
She shoves the fruity drink back toward me while I fight to keep my cock from getting too many ideas about her description of how she likes her… drinks.
“Throw two shots of vodka in it, and you might be onto something.”
“Kat,” I warn, D’s words from earlier today ringing loud in my ear.
Kat stays sober tonight. She needs to clear her head, so don’t get any ideas about sneaking her alcohol.
“No can do, darlin’. I’m on strict orders from big brother.”
Spinning around on her stool, she looks in the direction of Diesel and scowls.
He’s sitting among his friends with his girl on his lap, her lips attached to his throat as he laughs at something Dane, our prez, just said.
“Oh yeah, he seems real concerned about what I’m doing,” she mutters.
Hopping from her stool, she grabs her purse from the counter and tucks it under her arm.
“I don’t even know why he was so desperate to have me here.” Sadness bleeds into her expression. “I have zero interest in watching him make out with my best friend.”
She makes it two steps before my mouth runs away with me.
“Sit down, Katrina.”
She stops the second my deep voice hits her ears, and I swear a shiver rocks through her body at the same time.
“I guess that all depends,” she quips, shooting me a wicked look over her shoulder that goes straight to my dick. “Are you going to give me what I need?”
I swallow thickly, trying to keep thoughts of how good she tasted, how fucking perfectly she sucked me, how insanely tight her cunt was that night out of my head.
“H-half a shot,” I stutter like a fucking school boy who’s just been promised his first look at a real life pair of tits.
“A whole one, and we might have a deal.”
“Kat,” I warn.
“Ryder,” she counters, folding her arms over her chest, making her tits rise, tempting me even further.
“You shouldn’t have worn that dress, darlin’, I whisper before I can think better of it.
“Oh, this?” she asks innocently, running her finger down the deep V of the neckline, giving me little choice but to follow its movement. “It’s not the dress you should be worried about, Montrou.” She closes the space between us and rests her elbows on the bar so she can lean forward.