Biker's Virgin

“I’m going to check his story first,” I said. “I’m going to make sure his sick mother is real… If she’s just a fabrication to justify his part in all this, then I’m going to fire him immediately.”

“And if it turns out to be true?”

“Then I’m going to suspend him for a few weeks without pay,” I said. “And…pay for his mother’s operation.”

I saw it again—that awed, proud look in Molly’s eyes. It was like I was really her hero. And while a part of me was thrilled to have earned her love and respect, another part of me was worried. What if things didn’t work out between us? Would she still want to work with me? W

ould she still look at me like I was her hero?

Or would she start seeing me differently, would she start seeing me, as I really was: a mortal man who was nobody’s hero?

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Molly

I sat up in bed slowly, savoring the lazy feel of our rare sleepy Sunday morning. Since the incident with Alani and the Beaumonts, Tristan and I had worked for three weekends straight without taking a day off. We had finally managed to find a free day and happily, they had coincided.

Sometimes, I did miss not being able to spend quality time with Tristan. Sometimes, it felt like our moments together were fleeting. They were tiny little stopgaps along the way, and sometimes, it didn’t feel like enough. There were days when we came together only for sex. Tristan would tumble into my suite for half an hour during dinner. We would start talking, but inevitably, at some point during the conversation, he would pull me towards him and start kissing me.

It was impossible for me to resist when he kissed me. His kisses were full and open and heated with desire. Sometimes it felt like a kiss from Tristan could never just end there. It always led to ripped clothes and naked bodies and undulated moaning. Most of the time I didn’t mind; the sex was the only bond we could make within the time we had. It was the simplest, easiest, and most direct way of expressing how we felt.

And it changed all the time. Some days the sex was short, heated, and passionate. Sometimes it was more desperate, even bordering on violent. Then other times it was slow, gentle, and caring. I love the fact that Tristan made love to me in different ways. It meant that each time was new and interesting. I discovered new things about his body and mine. I realized what I was capable of; I realized what I liked and what I wanted done to me. Suddenly, I found that I had transformed from a virgin into a sexual being whose appetite just kept growing and growing.

There were little moments in between, however, when it bothered me. I knew that sex wasn’t our only connection. It was just that we didn’t have time for anything else.

That was truer for Tristan than for me. I wasn’t nearly as busy as he was. After all, he had an empire to run. Some days, I saw Ben and Alani far more than I saw Tristan. I knew what I was getting into, I told myself often. Mentally I was prepared, but emotionally, certain unwanted feelings cropped up without my permission.

But those feelings were easy to forget anytime Tristan did manage to find time for our relationship. That was how I knew I loved him, because even an uninterrupted hour with him was a gift. I rolled out of bed and walked over to the windows. Only one of the blinds was drawn up so that I could see the ocean. It was a perfect, calm day, and I wondered when we would next visit Tristan’s private island.

I walked into the living room and stepped outside onto the private balcony. The ocean looked like it was bowing at my feet. The water called to me invitingly, and I wondered if I had time to run around to the sea for a quick swim. I hated waking Tristan up when he didn’t need to be woken. I felt as though sleep was his one luxury when he had a day off.

I was still admiring the ocean when I felt Tristan’s large, warm hands encircle my body. I smiled and leaned back into him. “Good morning,” I greeted.

“Good morning,” he replied, kissing my neck softly.

I was wearing a thin blush slip with a deep neckline and a short hemline. Tristan’s hands started tracing the skin of my hands before sliding them underneath my slip. I could feel his hands on my stomach, near the waistband of my panties. The feel of his hard-on against my back thrilled me, but I also wanted to stretch out the moment. I wanted to make him wait first.

“What are your plans for the day?” I asked.

Tristan continued to kiss my neck. “I have a very precise schedule for today,” he replied.

“Oh?” I said, in surprise. “I wasn’t aware you had meetings today.”

“I don’t have meetings today,” he said. “I have appointments.”

I felt a sharp stab of disappointment. “I was under the impression that you were free today.”

“Nope,” he said. “Not free at all. I have lots to do today. Would you like me to tell you about my schedule for today?”

I couldn’t have cared less at that particular moment, but I swallowed back my disappointment and nodded. “Sure,” I said. “Go ahead.”

“My first appointment is right now actually,” Tristan began.

I frowned. “Now?” I asked. “It’s early.”

“I don’t think so,” he replied. “My first appointment involves fucking my girlfriend on this balcony, under the open sky.”

I let out a burst of laughter as I realized what his schedule would look like for today. “After she’s well and truly satisfied, I have a romantic breakfast to order in—which we’ll eat naked, of course,” he continued.