Parker
Iwant to be annoyed that he’s not taking me home, but as long as there’s a warm change of clothes, I’m here for it. I melt into his back as I shiver behind him on the bike. I know his broad shoulders and chest are blocking the worst of the wind and rain. He must be miserable, taking the brunt of the storm for me like that.
We drive down a quiet street to a little house, just a minute or two from downtown. Lukas pulls into the driveway and under the garage door as it’s still opening and parks next to a big black pickup truck.
Water drips from my shaking hand as I grip Lukas’ bicep, dismounting. Even rain-soaked and freezing, it makes me happy to think I’m getting better at this. I don’t love the whole rain thing but otherwise, I could really get used to riding with him, as long as no one says I’m riding bitch. And with Lukas glaring at them, I’m sure no one would dare.
Lukas follows me off the bike and my breath catches at the sight of him. If I thought I was soaked, it’s nothing compared to him. His white t-shirt is plastered to his front and I can see the tattoos across his chest, distorted through the dripping wet fabric. His jeans cling to his thick thighs and all I can think about is how it felt to straddle those thighs on the beach.
The garage door shuts behind us as we drip on the concrete floor, staring at each other until I shiver again. Lukas shakes his head as if clearing it and holds out his hand to me.
“Come on, let’s get you warmed up.”
I hesitate because I’m not sure where this is going, and that’s kind of exhilarating. Old Parker wouldn’t go home with a man under any circumstances. But what am I going to do? Stand out here shivering all night? I’d much rather see where the night goes with Lukas. So I take the offered hand and try not to smile at the way my hand tucks into his so perfectly.
Lukas leads me through a door to a kitchen, and it is freezing inside. It would probably feel great if I’d walked in during the heat of the day in dry clothes. But soaked through and already chilled, it feels like torture. I’m covered with goosebumps and shivering violently.
He pulls me along so quickly that I just catch glimpses of things. Pots and pans hanging over an island cooktop. Granite counters atop modern cabinets. Everything is clean, save a pizza box sticking way out of the trash. I laugh as he leads me through the dining room and towards a living area with big leather couches. A massive TV is hung over the fireplace, shelves full of books on either side.
“What are you laughing at, Freckles?” Lukas asks.
“I don’t know. I guess it’s just not what I expected.”
He chuckles. “You mean it’s not a biker clubhouse? Nobody’s getting a tattoo in the corner?”
I stutter, trying to come up with a response as he leads me upstairs. “Well, I mean— It’s just so clean.”
Lukas smirks back at me. “Sorry to disappoint you. I’ll rough it up for you next time.”
Pulling back on his hand, I make him turn to look at me. “Hey. Th-that’s not what I meant. I’m not disappointed. Thank you for bringing me here.”
Lukas looks me up and down, rubbing his hand along his jaw. His smile is soft, but his eyes are hungry and it makes me want more than just a place to warm up. “Yeah, well, I couldn’t let you get hypothermia, now could I?”
I shake my head slowly, watching his lips as he talks, mesmerized.
Lukas pulls me down the hall to the master bedroom and into the bathroom. A glass shower dominates the back half of it. I drop my purse on the edge of the sink as he pulls a towel out of a cabinet and hands it to me.
“Alright, here’s a towel. Shampoo’s in the shower…” Lukas says as he backs toward the door, running his hand through his hair. “The water gets really hot, so be careful.”
He’s leaving, I realize. Well, that’s disappointing. I don’t know what I expected, but it sure as hell wasn’t that. I don’t want him to go. I’m New Parker, dammit! I made out with a man on the beach today. I rode on a motorcycle!
“Where are you going?” I ask quietly. Lukas’ hands are clenched by his sides, the muscles in his arms tight. His jaw twitches as he looks back at me. His rain-soaked jeans cling to his skin, and I can’t help noticing the bulge straining the front of his pants. It sure doesn’t look like he wants to leave.
“Guest shower,” he grunts, gesturing his head back down the hallway. I fiddle with the bottom of my tank top as he turns to leave. I’m a chicken at heart, but New Parker isn’t having any of it.
“Or you could stay,” I call after him.
Lukas reappears almost instantly, leaning in the doorframe.
“Is that what you want, Freckles?” he asks. His voice is low, and he’s smoldering so hard I’m surprised my ovaries don’t burst into flames. “Be sure. Because if I come in there, I’m not going to be able to keep my hands off you.”
Yes. Yes, that is definitely what I want. But words are failing me, and if I try to talk, I’m afraid I’ll just squeak. Trying to be braver than I feel, I look him right in those stunning green eyes, drop the towel on the floor, and grab the hem of my shirt in both hands, lifting it over my head. My nipples are tight, achy peaks under my bra. If I had any question whether or not Lukas could see them, the quiet groan of “Fuck me,” would be a dead giveaway. My heart is beating so hard I feel like it could break right out of my chest. I want him. And I love that he wants me just as badly.
Lukas pushes off the door frame and brushes his wet hair back with his fingertips as he stalks over to me. He doesn’t hesitate for even a second. He leans down and kisses me, his mouth claiming mine. Every cell in my body screams “yes, yes, YES,” as he wraps an arm around my back, holding me tight against his chest. His skin feels as chilled as mine, his face cold against mine, but his mouth is warm. He walks me backward, kissing me so hard it feels like he’s stealing the air from my lungs.
His body wraps around mine as we move, possessive and powerful. I love the way he steers me around, moving me, and holding me close at the same time. My back hits the glass shower panel, and it’s freezing. A violent shiver racks my body. Lukas breaks the kiss, pulling back to look at me, concern carving little lines around his mouth and eyes.
“Jesus, your lips are blue,” he mutters as he reaches into the shower and cranks the water on, holding a hand under the water to test the temperature. I kick my shoes off and peel my soggy jeans down my hips. Note to self: wet denim is not a sexy thing to strip out of.