“Daylight”—Maroon5
When I grabbed Ogun’s hand, he froze and his eyes went slightly unfocused. It only lasted for a few seconds, but it left me feeling shaken and wondering if he’d had a minor seizure.
“Are you okay?” I asked when he paled and fell back against the back of the booth. He blinked rapidly and shook his head.
“Jesus,” he whispered before taking my margarita and swallowing the last of it.
“Ogun?” I questioned. He didn’t look good.
“I’m… uh, I’m good.” He didn’t look it, but his color was returning as his gaze locked on mine. It was impossible to stop staring into his crystalline eyes.
We both jumped a little when the waitress came up to the table. She made to leave the bill, but Ogun pulled cash out of his wallet, handed it to her, and said, “Keep the change.”
“You didn’t even look at the bill,” I said in exasperation. He shrugged and stood up.
“It was enough,” he said. I rolled my eyes.
“I wasn’t implying you shorted her. You likely gave her a tip as big as our bill.”
Again, he shrugged. When he held out a hand, I reached up and allowed him to help me out of the booth. As I stood, he pulled me so close to him, his heat washed over me in waves.
“Ogun?” I breathlessly questioned. He was acting strange, but it was affecting me in the oddest way.
“You never answered me. You up for stopping by the clubhouse?” he gruffly asked.
“If we’re not dating, wouldn’t that send the wrong message?”
“How?”
“Um, you taking me into the sanctity of your clubhouse to meet your gang?”
That drew a dark chuckle from his gorgeous lips. “It’s a club, not a gang. And I can bring anyone I damn well please to a party.”
“Okay,” I murmured.
Suddenly feeling like things were quickly escalating into something neither of us was truly prepared for, I took a shuddering breath. My eyes searched his, looking for answers to the uncertainty that plagued me.
More gently than I would’ve ever thought him capable, he cupped my cheek, and my breath hitched. It was like a jolt of something unnatural, but not the least frightening, shot through me. Those pale blue eyes were captivatingly hypnotic.
Without another word, he dropped his hand, grabbed mine, and led me back out to his bike.
Still silent, he handed me the helmet. I put it on with shaking fingers, and before I knew it, we were headed down the road.
My mind was in such a jumble, I didn’t pay attention to where we were going. The feel of his firm muscles under my hands was driving me to distraction, along with the intoxicating scent of his cologne mixed with the leather of his vest. Any hope I had of keeping my wits about me blew away with the passing breeze.
“We’re here,” he said as he tapped my thigh. Blinking, I realized we’d not only arrived, but he’d parked the bike at the end of a row of others.
With trembling limbs, I climbed off and tried to ignore the large group of people staring at us. The looks on their faces ranged from shock, to smugness, to straight-up anger. The last was on a woman with bright red hair and more skin than clothing showing.
Unbraiding my surely messy hair, I finger combed it, hoping it looked somewhat presentable.
The heat of his hand on my lower back was another jolt, and I moved forward. He left it resting there as we approached the group.
“You want something to drink?” he asked as he motioned toward several metal water troughs full of ice.
“Is there a bottle of water?” I asked through incredibly parched lips. Licking them in an attempt to moisten them, I caught his gaze. His pupils were dilated, and lust was blatant in them.
Swallowing with increasingly difficult effort, I saw his lips tilt in a semblance of a smile. He plunged his hand into the ice, fished around a bit, and came out with three longnecks grasped in his fingers.