Claimed By The Devil (Devil's Riders 8)

Riding on the back of his . . . oh, my.

Jeans, I decided instantly. I was definitely wearing jeans.

"So, a barbecue with Nick?" my mom asked with an unfamiliar twinkle in her eye.

“Why do you say it like that?” I asked with an eye roll as I tucked the blankets more firmly around her legs.

"Because . . . it's Nick," she said with a happy chortle.

I stared at her and then crossed my arms. Realization set in, along with a healthy dose of embarrassment. I hadn't been fooling anyone. Least of all, my mother.

"You knew. You always knew."

"Of course, I knew. I'm your mother." She started coughing, and that familiar feeling tightened up in my gut. "But don't worry. I don't think he knew."

I threw my hands up in mock exasperation at her comment. It was better to ignore the coughing fits. If she needed my help, it was pretty obvious. She got mad if I fussed too much. But from the pink in her cheeks, I realized even a little bit of excitement was good for her.

Anything that wasn’t about her cancer or the dire straights we were in financially . . . well, no wonder she was happy to hear about something else. Anything else.

“Let me get you a cup of mint tea.”

She nodded, leaning back on the pillows. We went through a lot of mint tea around here. It helped with the nausea that the drugs caused. Mom drank a lot of mint and ginger tea.

“Okay, but only if you let me pick out what you wear tomorrow.”

I blushed and nodded.

“It has to be jeans.”

“Jeans?”

“If I want to, um, ride on his motorcycle.”

She chortled then, and the sound was like a balm to my soul.

“Jeans it is, then. Definitely jeans.”

I smiled happily.

“I’ll be right back with that tea.”

Chapter Eight

Nick

I turned off the engine and rested two helmets on the seat. Everything was polished and shined. I was wearing a clean shirt under my leather. I usually left my hair alone, but I’d brushed the fuck out of it before setting out. Fuck, I’d even used conditioner in the shower. I ran my fingers through it before heading to the farmhouse. It had been a long time since I actually came to this door and knocked.

Fuck, I'm nervous. What if she doesn't like me? What if she fucking does?

Then you're a lucky fucking son of a bitch, my inner optimist answered.

It was only a few minutes before I heard footsteps. Cute little footsteps, reminding me of how young and sweet she was. And then the door opened and I stopped thinking completely.

"Hi," Melissa said with a sweet smile.

"Hi,” I said after a moment’s hesitation during which I stared at her completely dumbfounded. It wasn't that she looked all that different. It's just that she looked even prettier than usual, which was saying a lot.

Oh, Nick, you are in such deep, deep trouble, my boy.

Tight jeans emphasized her rounded hips and hourglass shape. The faded floral button-down she wore had puckered sleeves and was unbuttoned just enough to show the top of what promised to be glorious, bountiful cleavage.

Her hair was down. I realized I'd never seen it down. It was a soft golden brown with lush waves that made my fingers itch to run through it. I wanted to wrap my fingers in it and use it to tug her toward me, hold her in place while I ravaged that gorgeous mouth of hers. I would take my time exploring her lips and tongue before getting down to business.

After that . . . things would get interesting. I’d get to touch her. Feel her against me. And I sure as hell would kiss the ever living hell out of her.

Goddamn, but I was looking forward to that. I felt my body tighten up. Not now, Nick. Not yet.

My body was already raging for her. All this just from saying ‘hi.’ I was so fucking doomed.

Kaylie and the girls are going to help me, I reminded myself. You can do this. Just be a gentleman. Even though the truth was that I felt like a goddamned savage. I wanted nothing more than to drag her away and have my way with her. I didn’t even need a bed.

A pile of hay would do nicely. The ground. Hell, I would be more than happy to fuck her standing up against the front door of her house, in broad daylight, with her mother just inside.

I forced myself to look away from her soft, naturally pink lips. Her huge, insanely beautiful blue eyes were clearer than any sky I’d ever seen, rimmed with thick lashes and slightly tilted up at the ends. Her skin was glowing with good health and some sort of inner light. The girl looked like an actual angel.

An angel I wanted to sin with. A lot.