“What do you mean by ‘too late’?” She was afraid of the guy now, so Zach thought he could guess what she meant.
But she shook her head and stood up. “I said we don’t know each other well enough to talk about Tommy. I’m gonna go back and find Michelle and your brother.”
“Hold up, hold up.” Zach caught her hand and stood. “I’m sorry.”
She studied him but said nothing. Zach couldn’t read anything in her expression.
So he smiled and tried to disarm the bomb he’d dropped between them. “Do you still think I’m pretty hot?”
That made her laugh. “Slightly less hot.”
When she started to pull her hand free, Zach took a chance and held on. She stopped trying to get free.
Everything between them had gotten awkward and weird. It was probably his own fault, but he decided to blame that slicked-back asshole. At any rate, things between them weren’t where he wanted them to be, and he could see she felt that, too.
She was beautiful, and nice, and interesting. Feeling like he didn’t have anything to lose, he said, “Since I’ve already been a pushy fucker, and you still think I’m semi-hot, I’m gonna go for it. Can I kiss you?”
Bright red roses bloomed on her cheeks at once, and a shy little titter slipped from her mouth. Oh, that was fucking adorable. “Uh ...”
Zach was not, in fact, a pushy fucker, so he stood in place and waited for her to answer.
Finally, she looked up and met his eyes. A curious smile worked its way up one side of her face—a smirk, without the snark. “I’m surprised you asked.”
“Surprised I want to kiss you, or surprised because you thought I’d take what I want?”
Her shrug was plenty of answer. Rather than pull on her hand, Zach took the step that brought them close.
“I’m not actually a pushy fucker, Lyra. Remember my mom, who made sure her sons could and would cook and clean and generally not expect women to do for them? Same woman taught us to respect women in general.” Jay might not have aced that lesson, but he’d gotten it. Zach had taken it to heart.
Lyra grinned. “Be careful. With an attitude like that, you’re gonna give bikers a bad name.”
“Nah. Givin’ ‘em a good name. And breaking news—most of the bikers I know are more like me than that Tommy guy. You don’t have to be an asshole to be strong or tough. You don’t have to be an asshole and do what needs doing. Being an outlaw isn’t taking whatever you want. It’s just ... sayin’fuck youto the rich assholes who make the laws and take whatevertheywant.They’rethe assholes.”
Lyra didn’t reply; she simply stared up at him, her eyes traveling to and fro. Zach let her look.
“You can kiss me,” she said when she’d seen enough.
Feeling like he’d won a prize, he took the empty glass from her hand, turned to set it on the bench, then framed her face between his palms. He took a beat and let her have a chance to change her mind, but she tipped her face up and parted her lips.
Bending close, he set his mouth on those beautiful, rose-pink pillows. She tasked like cranberry and grapefruit, and the faint woodsy-sweet scent he’d picked up simply being near her now filled his head. It wasn’t like cologne or even shampoo; there was no chemical hint at all. It was more like she’d spent the day hanging out in a fragrant kind of tree. He knew she’d spent the day cleaning a crime scene, so it was something else. Just her own personal chemistry, maybe.
Didn’t matter. She smelled amazing; her lips were soft and full and perfect. She’d sighed with something like relief when his lips had touched hers, and her body softened and swayed when he pushed his tongue into her mouth.
Unsatisfied holding only her head, he moved his hands. She moaned as his fingers tangled in her hair and slid through miles of soft, thick silk, tugging lightly at each wave. That moan trembled against his tongue, and his swelling cock finished the job.
When he wrapped his arms around her, drawing her in tightly without losing a beat of their kiss, she slipped her hands around his waist and up his back, hooking her fingers over his shoulders. After a moment, one of those hands left his shoulder and skimmed to his nape, where her fingertips played lightly with his hair, right at his hairline.
Setting aside the obvious one, there was no place on his body that got him revved up more than that one.
Fuck. He wanted to get this beauty naked, and here they were, in a hotel.
But no.
In the first place, she was Ben Haddon’s girl, and just tonight, Eight had offered Ben a seat at the new table. Him and his son. Zach intended to be instrumental in establishing that charter and in recruiting the new patches. Ben was their conduit to the likely guys in this pseudo-town, wannabe Vegas. Fuck-and-chucking Ben’s only daughter would be a terrible start to all that.
More importantly, Zach didn’t want to fuck and chuck her at all. He wanted todateher, and he couldn’t do that now. He was on the road in the morning, riding a thousand miles in the wrong direction, and he didn’t know when he’d be back. Probably not before the next gun run, which was a couple months off.
But maybe next time, the club would be ready to expand. Maybe next time, he’d stay in Laughlin for a while. Long enough to really get to know this girl, if she wanted to really get to know him.