Page 65 of Badass Biker

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“Yeah.” She wriggled her hips a little, pressing her body to his groin. His cock tingled and lust swarmed over his skin. This woman was doing insane things to him. And a goddamn stuck-up garden party, yeah, for her, he’d go.

“But if you’re carrying, just don’t advertise it,” she said. “Won’t go down well with champagne and canopies.”

“You let me worry about that,” he said. “In fact, you let me worry about everything, including your next orgasm.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Is that coming soon?”

“Hell yeah.” He lifted her and cupped his hands beneath her ass cheeks. She was so damn small in his arms, delicate physically but strong inside. It was an irresistible combination that yanked every one of his chains.

She wound her legs around his waist and giggled. “I like the sound of that.”

He strode to the door. “And I like the sound of the little squeaks you make as you climax.”

“I do not.”

“Yeah, you do.” He kissed her and stepped into the house. He had every intention of hearing those little squeaks late into the night.

Chapter Fifteen

The journey back to Pierce had gone smoothly, Carter well used to the route, and they called in at Leah’s house in the suburbs so she could change for the party.

While she was upstairs, he took a look around.

Unlike the beach house, the walls were dark. There was no fireplace and the living area lacked a heart. A shelf was full of photographs, mainly of a woman he guessed was Leah’s mother—her hair was the same raven black though longer than Leah’s, and her jawline the same cutely angled, almost pixie shape.

A bookcase was stuffed full of law books and thick journals he’d never consider flicking through. A desk overlooking the plain front garden held piles of brown folders and a jar of jelly beans.

The kitchen was neat and functional. It didn’t look as though she cooked often. A wine rack was full, and on the refrigerator door were several more photographs of her mother, a ticket stub for a Country and Western concert, and a Harvard College magnet.

He filled a coffee pot and flicked it on. While it was heating, he found a downstairs washroom, freshened up, and changed his black t-shirt withOutlawsscrawled on the back to a similar tee with a small white skull on the front. He frowned. He’d thought the new t-shirt was plain black when he’d scooped it up. Tough.

He pulled his gun from the waistband of his jeans, checked the safety—a habit—then wandered back into the kitchen.

He let out a low whistle and his heart did a weird beat, missing one then making it up with two.

Leah stood beside the window, a vision if ever he’d seen one. She wore a figure-hugging navy romper teamed with a thick scarlet belt, matching shoes, and lipstick that was the color of hellfire. Blood rushed to his groin, and he wondered if he had time to mess her up in all the right ways before the party.

“Don’t even think about it.” She laughed and wagged her finger. “We’re already late.”

“How do you know what I’m thinking?”

“You get this line here.” She stroked the patch of skin between her eyebrows. “When you want to…”

“Fuck.” He chuckled. “Yeah, sorry about that, makes me pretty transparent, huh?” He pulled her close. She smelled of flowers and temptation. “But in the name of the Lord, you look hot in this outfit.”

“This old thing? I didn’t get around to going shopping for something new.”

“Yeah, that old thing. Damn good job I’ll be there to fight off all the asswipes who’ll be after you.”

“You have to behave.” She touched her lips to his. “Promise.”

“I ain’t making no promises, but I’ll do my best.”

“I guess that’s all I can hope for.”

He cupped her ass and squeezed. Her buttocks were the perfect handful. “Remind me why we have to go now?”

“Because we’re late.” She stepped back and scooped up a red clutch. “But the best way to think about it is the sooner we go, the sooner we can leave and come back here so—”


Tags: Lily Harlem Romance