Making Her His (Beating the Biker 1) - Page 19

Saks put his coffee on the nightstand nearest him and put his arms around her waist. Then the memories of the previous night hit him where he’d licked and kissed her entire gorgeous body. She was responsive and giving, needing everything he gave. What he liked especially was how she screamed when she came. It was music to his ears, and his cock hardened at the thought.

“Do you need to?”

“I should. Besides, don’t you have to get to work?”

Saks glanced at the clock. The shop was opening in an hour and, yeah, he usually rolled out of bed and got ready to go. But he panicked a little then. She seemed a little too eager to leave, and Saks found he didn’t want her to disappear out the door, never to be seen again. “I can go in a little late. My boss is cool.”

“Well, yours might be, but mine is not.”

“Oh,” said Saks, kissing her neck again. “So, I can’t convince you of an encore?”

“No.”

“I can see,” he said huskily in her ear, “that I have to do a little convincing. How about dinner?” He nibbled behind her ear, and she sighed and leaned back into him.

“I might be persuaded, but what’s the rush? Don’t you want to ‘call me,’ wait a few days, then phone and pretend that I haven’t been waiting to hear from you?”

“Is that how your men treat you? They’re fools. Anyone can see that keeping you waiting is a disaster waiting to happen. Some biker might come along and sweep you off your feet.”

“Some biker, eh? I’m not so sure about the sweeping me off my feet thing. But you sure have “come along.” She untangled his arms from around her and pushed off the bed. “I tell you what. We’ll go to dinner as long as it’s not too fancy.”

“Now wait. If you think I can’t afford—”

“That’s not it. Look, I just told you I’m practically engaged to someone. A dinner at an expensive restaurant sends the wrong message. But if I meet up with a friend for pizza, it’s not a big deal.”

“I see,” said Saks. He didn’t like this, or her reasoning. This sounded too much like the women who dated him for his bad-boy image. But, he admitted to himself, there was something about this woman that intrigued him. He wasn’t going to blow things by making a big deal over a simple request.

“Well, it so happens I know the best pizza place in town.”

“You do? And you expect me to come to Westfield for the second time in as many days?”

“Anywhere you like then,” he said.

“Okay,” she said. “I’ll text you an address. Where’s your phone?”

Saks got up to search for his jeans, which he found on the floor in the living room. When he returned, he found that Chrissy had dressed and was slipping on those spiked heels that grabbed his interest last night.

He studied her in the light streaming in from slats of the shades hanging in his bedroom window. Saks had never found a woman putting on her clothes fascinating, yet every movement of her body drew his eye to her and held it there.

“Have you seen my purse?”

“I believe you left it in the car,” he said.

She swore under her breath. “My keys?”

Saks went to his jeans and pulled the keys out of his pocket.

“Do you need a ride back to your bike?”

“No, I have my cage here.”

Chrissy arched an eyebrow. “Cage?”

“What we bikers call our cars.”

“Oh. And you aren’t worried about leaving your bike at that bar?” She spoke the last words with disdain, and Saks sighed.

“No. It’s fine there. Really, we aren’t all the dangerous criminals the media makes us out to be.” Saks kicked himself for trying to defend his club and lifestyle to this woman he barely knew. He never apologized about how he lived his life, not even to his family.

Tags: Lexy Timms Beating the Biker Romance
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