Her expression went soft and sweet for him. “Yeah?”
His grip on her knee tightened. “Yeah.”
“Well, whenever, then.” Her fingers stroked over his.
Between the small touches and the way she was looking at him, all affectionate and even a little unguarded, his body came alive with need. He rose and held out his hand. “Let’s go.”
The smile she gave him told him it was the right call. She needed him more than he needed to blow off some steam. And that was that.
Maverick watched while Alexa hugged Bunny and Haven and said her good-byes, and he liked what he saw—Alexa being folded into the arms of his community, and embracing it right back. He liked it a lot. Fuck, it was too soon to be feeling this, to be wanting this—too soon for her. Just today, Grant had driven that point home with a goddamned sledgehammer. She was right in the thick of dealing with her ex. The last thing she needed was to deal with Maverick, too. For fuck’s sake.
When you gonna fight for what you want? Dare’s chiding voice echoed in his memory. The question—and the urgency to answer it—pulsed through his veins with every heartbeat.
“Ready?” she asked.
“Yeah,” he said, shoving away the thoughts. He hugged Bunny and Haven.
“I make a mean cinnamon roll,” Haven said to Alexa. “In case you want to come for breakfast. Maybe we could do that girls-only movie day.”
“I just might take you up on that,” Al said with a smile. And Maverick found himself grateful to Haven once again. Alexa needed friends and fun in her life right now, and he appreciated Haven making her feel like she belonged. He knew enough about how Al had grown up to know that mattered to her. So it mattered to him.
It took a couple of minutes of good-byes to make their way out of the clubhouse, but then Maverick was starting up the Night Rod and Alexa was sliding on behind him, her heat ramping up the arousal stirring in his body. Especially when she didn’t just embrace him. Her hands gently rubbed his chest. The night air blew warm and inviting against them as they took the back way through the big Raven Riders tract to the pond and his house beyond.
Alexa didn’t mean anything by the soft caresses against his chest, but it was driving him fucking crazy. His cock hardened against his thigh, setting off an ache that pounded in his blood. Finally, he stilled her hands against his sternum, but instead of that putting a stop to the rubbing as he’d intended, it set her hands off to exploring.
Up over his pecs, the heels of her palms dragging across his nipples. Down over his abs, turning his cock to steel. Down farther, onto his inner thighs. Her nails raked against the denim. And then her right hand found his hard length and tormented him with rubs and squeezes that had him spilling groans into the wind.
Christ, what was she doing to him? And should he let her do it?
By the time he pulled the NRS into his garage, he was wrecked by lust and need, the adrenaline that had been surging through him since the confrontation at the restaurant finding an outlet his body liked. A lot.
He didn’t kill the engine or flip out the kickstand. His boots braced the bike upright, the engine’s vibrations spilling through him and winding him tighter. And then Alexa’s fingers made quick work of unbuttoning his jeans. Unzipping. And pulling out his cock.
“Fuck, Alexa,” he groaned as her hand wrapped around the thick column of his flesh. She reached to hang her helmet on the handlebar, and he helped her, wanting to know what she wanted, needing to see where she wanted to take this, unable to do anything but give in to the steady jerking of her hand around his hard length.
“Your voice is so sexy when you’re turned on,” she whispered against his cheek. “Makes me wet.” Her tongue traced his ear, and then she was kissing him there, her hand on his neck, trying to make him yield to her mouth, her tongue.
“What else makes you wet?” he rasped. He should be questioning this, questioning her, not egging her on. But his body had taken over this train and pulled it right on out of the station.
Her fist gripped him tighter, pumped harder. She hummed low in her throat, her tongue dragging up his neck. “How hard your cock is. How it fills my hand. How I know it could fill me.”
“Jesus,” he bit out, needing to hear every filthy secret she’d share with him. “What else?”
“Your long hair. Your eyes. Your ink.” She punctuated each pronouncement with a jerk and twist of her hand. “The feel of this bike rumbling between my legs,” she offered without him asking.