CHAPTER SEVEN
The extreme rawpower of the machine between Teagan’s legs gave her a second high tonight. Not only had she just done the bumslide-to-splits move at the VIP stage at the Pink Flower, surprising not only her friends and sisters, but herself even more.
She could also add riding the back of Devlin’s bike in the middle of the night, over winding roads with nothing but the stars and his single light illuminating their way through rural Texas.
Large volumes of air passed her by as Devlin sped up. The scents of the surrounding grass fields were a warm welcome, giving Teagan a sense of home.
She recognized the Texas redbud tree in passing and knew their ride was almost over. Her hands fisted Devlin’s shirt tighter, not willing to let go of him or this moment. Devlin let the bike roll out before it came to a stop next to one of the outer fields.
She wondered if Flint would say hi tonight and grinned. Devlin killed the engine and got off from his bike, holding out his hand for her to do the same.
“Thanks,” she said, the wobble in her voice as big as in her spaghetti legs.
“Woah. Easy, Little Bird. I’ve got you,” he said as he caught her on her way down. She frowned at his endearment. Little Bird. He still thought of her as a small, fragile, sweet little thing. She swallowed down her hurt response. Turning all heads in that stupid strip club hadn’t worked in making him see what was right in front of him.
“You did good for a first timer.” He playfully slapped the back of his bike and smiled, taking her breath away. Even though he didn’t seem that impressed by her moves earlier tonight, she couldn’t believe the night ended up like this; alone in the middle of the night with the man who’d starred in her every dream in these past weeks.
“Thanks,” she said and cringed, as it seemed the only word she could utter now that they were alone.
Devlin put a hand through the longer side of his pitch-black hair. “About earlier…”
She rested her bum against his bike as he leaned into her from his almost seven-foot height. “Yes?” she whispered.
“I didn’t mean that you weren’t good enough to dance at my club, I just—”
She tilted her head. “Your club? You own the Pink Flower?”
He smiled again as he brushed a blonde curly strand of hair from her bare shoulder, making her insides tingle. “Nah. The club owns the place. I’m just the manager.”
“Oh.”
She didn’t know how she felt about naked girls surrounding him all day. They probably also warmed his bed every night. The thought churned her stomach. The ride over here had sobered her enough that the rush of pole dancing in front of a crowd for the first time in her life had worn off.
She would never hear the end about what happened tonight from her sister, Mae. Ugh. And never mind what her father would have to say about all of this. She just wanted to go to bed and ignore her family for the rest of the month.
What was she thinking earlier when she’d wanted to kiss his full lips the moment he’d acted so protective of her in front of his buddies? This wasn’t going to be some happily ever.
Devlin was a man. A thirty-seven-year-old member of a notorious motorcycle club. A strip club manager. Her sister Mae would have a fit from all the red flags waving at her.
“I-I should go…”
“What happened to that sexy dancer sliding down that pole, making every guy wishing they had you sliding up and down their dick? She got left behind at my club?”
His crude words didn’t make her cringe or even feel ashamed of herself. A hot rush flooded her panties at the idea of Devlin noticing the way she’d affected his patrons.
What was it with Devlin that made her want to say ‘fuck everything’ and dive headfirst into the deep end?
“I’m still me. She’s one and the same…”
Her answer sparked something in his dark eyes. His large, calloused hand slid along her jaw to her nape, where he took a firm hold. She felt a slight pressure of his hand, but instead of freaking her out, the controlling move awakened a flame inside of her, blazing red-hot desire through her body. She closed her eyes and bit her lip to stop moaning at the single touch.
Her nipples hardened against her bodice, shaving against the unforgiving material.
“Look at me, Little Bird.”
She opened up just in time to see his advancing face. He nibbled her bottom lip before leisurely swiping his tongue across her lip. His hand at her nape directed her, so she tilted her head, giving him an easy access to invade her mouth with his tongue.
There was no doubt who was in charge here. His other hand unzipped her bodice, the crisp air tickling her hard peaks as the top fell to her waist. His rough hand weighed her breast while his thumb grazed her nipple.