Her Biker Wolf (Obsessed Mates 2)

“I don’t know what I want, though.”

“Maybe you’ll find something in my catalog.” He points to a coffee table, where a couple of leather-bound books are laid out.

“Okay, I’ll take a look.”

“Sure.” His lips curve up a little at one corner, like he’s amused by me. Like he has me all figured out. He probably has. Again, I have that weird sense that he sees me in a way that no one has before.

I scuttle over and take a seat by the coffee table. Half of me wants to get the hell out of here, so I can quit feeling so nervous and edgy. I don’t understand why my body is responding to him like this. It’s never happened before, and it’s kinda freaking me out.

But the other half…

The other half wants to drink him in. The other half is busy flattering myself that he’s been watching me because he’s attracted to me.

Yeah, right.

He’s way out of my league.

But he might be the key to finding your brother,I remind myself.

That’s what you need to focus on, Maya. And forget the fact your nipples are so hard you can see them poking through your shirt.

I open one of the books, and he walks away from me. I release a long, shaky breath.

Okay, focus, focus, focus…

Damn, his designs are… something else. I leaf through the catalog, transfixed, as one masterpiece after another bursts from the pages. He’s a genius. An actual genius.

I’m so engrossed that when something clunks down on the table beside me, I startle.

It’s a glass of water. Just a glass of water. But my head has snapped toward him and he’s suddenly real close. Leaning over me, barely inches away. I can see the little gold flecks darting out from the emerald green of his irises. The thickness of his eyelashes. The little crinkles at the corners of his eyes.

As if he’s also registered how close we are, he stills.

The air shudders between us. I hear the sound of his breathing, slow but heavy, and his scent fills my nostrils. Rich, spicy, dark. Full of leather and ink and danger. His lips are firm at the edges, but full in the center. Kissable lips. How would they feel, crushing against mine? My vision goes blurry. There’s a deep, strange ache in the core of my body.

“Thought you might be thirsty.”

“W-what?”

“Ice water.” He points at the glass.

“Oh—” My cheeks warm. Is he making a comment about my reaction to him? Jesus, I hope I’m not being that shamefully obvious.

Hopefully, he’s just being kind. Kindness I could sure use right now.

“Or you want something a little stronger—?” He frowns. “You’re old enough, right?”

“Twenty-one,” I confirm, and the relief that sweeps across his rugged face takes me by surprise. “I’m fine,” I say, sensing that throwing alcohol into this crazy mix of nerves and desire would be a very bad idea.

He sits down beside me, legs apart.

I take a cooling swig of the water. And choke when his denim-clad knee brushes mine.

Oh god.

“Easy.” His huge hand lands on my back, and he pats me gently. The heat of his palm floods through the thin fabric of my shirt. It feels good… more than good. Somehow it sweeps all the way through my body, homing in to my core.

“Thanks,” I mumble.