Harley (Cerberus MC)

“You look amazing,” Boomer says, but there’s no sigh of appreciation. He says the words as if he’s just stating a fact.

I look from my friend back to Harley, but the man doesn’t say a thing.

“I’ll wait for you in the SUV,” Boomer mutters before turning around and walking out of the house.

The air thickens once he’s gone, and it seems neither of us can pull our eyes from the other.

“Have a good visit with your parents. I made room in the closet and put fresh sheets on the bed if they decide to stay here instead of elsewhere,” I say. I start to walk past him.

“Where will you be tonight?”

“We’re going to dinner.”

At this point, we’re standing practically side by side—me facing the front door and him facing toward the hallway. We aren’t looking at each other, and that saving grace is the only thing that keeps me from begging him to stop being so mean to me.

“And then what? Where could you possibly go that would leave your bed open for the night?”

I want to tell him to mind his own damn business, that where I end up isn’t his concern, but starting a fight and leaving him here angry isn’t going to benefit Aria. She was already terrified with the way he acted earlier. I don’t want her to feel that same negative energy when she wakes from her nap. So I stay silent, walking further away from him.

His hand reaches out, clamping my arm at the elbow. It’s not a rough touch, and I could take another step and break free of him, but for some unexplained reason it stops me in my tracks. Warmth radiates outward from his light grip on my arm, heating nearly every inch of my body before he speaks again.

“I don’t want you fucking my friends while you’re caring for my daughter,” he growls, his breath hot on my face.

If I ever wondered what my breaking point was, I’ll give this man credit for finding it so easily.

I whirl around, pulling my arm from his hand. Although being short never really bothered me, I’d give almost anything for a few more inches. Growling, I lift my chin and stare into his eyes as best I can.

“I have no intentions of fucking your friends, but I’m a grown-ass woman making grown-ass decisions, and I will fuck whomever I please.”

His eyes narrow, but they don’t grow angry. I realize a second too late that his gaze isn’t on mine, rather his eyes are pinned to my lips.

In the next blink of an eye, I’m in his arms, lifted up with my legs wrapped around him. Our mouths are melded together in a kiss hotter than the first. I grunt when my back finds the wall, the sensation of being literally pinned between a rock and a hard place. The rock is the wall in this scenario because the hard place is pressed against my center, the rolling of his hips threatening to make me lose my mind quicker than I ever have before.

How could I miss something so much when I’d only had it once before?

This kiss solves so many things. It rids me of the aches I’ve felt since the first one, but it brings with it a misery I know only he can end.

His fingers dig into my ass as he presses harder against me. A moan rumbles from his chest and I literally feel it travel inside of him, first through my fingertips on his back then as it escapes into my own mouth. I swallow it down, feeding on his desire as my hand travels lower, gripping at the hem of his shirt as his mouth licks and bites at my neck.

Somehow, I’m overheated yet still covered in gooseflesh at the same time. My body is on fire, but I tremble. I’m a war of mixed emotions.

“I want to f—”

A throat clearing stops him from finishing his confession, and my cheeks heat before I turn my head to look. An apology for Boomer is on my lips until my lust-filled eyes finally focus.

Boomer is not standing in the room, rather the two people I have to assume are his parents are there.

Mortified isn’t even close to a strong enough word to describe how I feel as I squirm away from Harley. There’s no reluctance to letting me go. He doesn’t cling to me a second longer. He doesn’t ask them to give us a minute. He simply turns his back to them as if he too is ashamed of facing them.

I feel frozen, locked in place. I could run to my room and hide, but I’d have to face them, eventually. I could sweep past them and run out of the house, but I know if I do that, I’ll keep running for the rest of my life.