Spec (Hell's Handlers MC Florida Chapter 2)

“Hmm,” he said, leaning in.

Just when she thought he’d kiss her and give his brothers a real jaw-dropping show, he winked.

Her belly fluttered. God, she loved it when he did that.

“Ready to get out of here?”

“Soon as I help clean up.”

“Fuck that,” he said with a snort. “You cooked. No way are you cleaning this shit too.”

“And you?” she said, trying to keep from laughing.

“Fuck that too. I carried the shit to the table. You assholes are on clean-up duty,” he called out as he stood, pulling her up with him. “Except you, Brooke. You’re neither an asshole nor on clean-up duty.”

“Knew you were my favorite, Spec,” Brooke shot back.

“Come on, babe, let’s go.” He tightened his hand on hers and towed her toward the door. “We’re out, fuckers! Don’t wait up.”

“Have fun, you two!” Tracker called. “Don’t you bring her back here knocked up!”

Olivia gasped while Scott flipped Tracker the bird, and everyone else laughed their stuffed faces off.

Once outside in the balmy evening air, Scott pulled her close and wrapped his arms around her waist. Then he took her mouth in a kiss that left her lightheaded and weak-kneed. “Damn, I love your mouth,” he said before kissing her again.

She surrendered to the rise of passion, pushing all thoughts besides pleasure out of her mind. Everything else could wait until later. The evening had been the best of her life, and with how his hands squeezed her ass and his mouth devoured hers, the night promised to keep getting even better.

And then, for the second time in twenty-four hours, her phone buzzed.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

AS THOUGH THE last day hadn’t rattled his world enough, it turned out Olivia had ridden a motorcycle before. If anyone had asked him ten minutes ago, he’d have put money on the fact that she’d never been within five feet of a bike before coming to Florida, let alone ridden one.

Good thing he didn’t make that bet. He’d be out a chunk of change.

That’d show him to bet against her.

But then he was quickly learning everything he’d thought and assumed about Olivia Truitt was dead wrong.

Part of him hated that he wasn’t her first, but on the flip side, a massive surge of pride tore through him at what an excellent fucking rider she turned out to be. She held his sides, grip loose and confident as she leaned into each curve with him. Much as he loved those sexy thighs bracketing his hips and her tits smashed against his back, he couldn’t help but imagine her riding alongside him on her own bike instead of at his back.

Christ, she’d look smoking hot in tight leather pants, totally in control of the powerful beast between her legs. The thought made him hard as hell, which was damn inconvenient when maneuvering a hundred of pounds of vibrating metal through dark beach-bound roads.

“Are you taking me to the beach?” Livy yelled in his ear as they slowed for a stop sign. Her question jerked him from his dirty fantasies.

He smiled at the enthusiasm in her voice. She looked so fucking cute in his spare helmet with her hair hanging down. It’d been all he could do to keep from jumping her right there in the clubhouse parking lot.

“Yeah,” he called back. “Figured you’ve been in Florida for a few weeks and haven’t seen the gulf yet. We need to fix that.”

“You’d be right. Yay!” She squealed a thrilled, high-pitched sound that had him smiling. Her enthusiasm for simple things like dinner with his club brothers, playing with Brooke’s crew of dogs, or a nighttime trip to the beach made him want to introduce her to everything she’d never been allowed to enjoy from her ivory mansion on the hill. All the things she’d have been told were beneath her or low-class.

According to Deke, she traveled by private jet, owned a bedroom-size closet full of designer clothes, and spent summers in Europe. Scott expected her to look down her nose at the no-frills way he and his brothers lived, but it was yet another incorrect assumption. However, visiting his world for a few weeks wasn’t the same as living in it. Not that he planned for or wanted her to stick around long-term. Eventually, she’d return to her life.

Hopefully, she’d spill the truth about why she’d popped up in Florida in the first place. He didn’t buy her bullshit about needing time away because of a breakup. Sure, he believed she’d dumped her fiancé, but there was more. He’d bet his bike on it. Not once had she mentioned communicating with anyone from home. Who cut off every person in their life? Someone who didn’t want to be found. That’s who. And why the hell wouldn’t Olivia want to be found? Had her fiancé cheated? Humiliated her? Did her friends take his side over hers? Probably something along those lines.