Roan (The Henchmen MC 17)

A fluidness overcame her body as my lips sealed to hers. Her upper body wavered toward mine as her hand rose, closing around my upper arm as her lips came alive under mine, taking, then demanding more.

My tongue traced the seal of her lips, feeling them part, inviting me in. As soon as my tongue moved over hers, a low, throaty whimper escaped her. The sound moved through me, sparking off every nerve ending, making my cock harden as her nails started to dig into my arm, her other one gripping my hand hard enough that it must have hurt her knuckles, but she was too engrossed to notice as her teeth nipped my lower lip, as a shiver racked her system.

She would have kept going forever.

I could have taken her right there.

In the end, I needed to end it, pressing her lips hard for one last moment before pulling back, resting my forehead to hers.

Another whimper escaped her, a little disappointed sound.

"We're in public," I reminded her softly, giving her hand a squeeze.

Another sound came out of her, something close to a grumble as her head left my forehead, dropping onto my shoulder instead, face turning into my neck, placing a sweet little kiss there.

My eyes closed as I took a long, deep breath, trying to ignore the churning in my stomach.

Guilt.

There was no other word for it.

It was new to me.

I'd used countless people in my career to get what I needed, to reach a goal.

I had never felt guilt.

It was a job.

It served a greater good.

There was nothing to feel bad about.

But feeling Mackenzie's warm breath on my neck as she let out what could only be called a sigh, as her weight pressed more into me, as her soft body melded against mine, yeah there was no denying it.

I was feeling guilty.

And almost nothing had happened yet.

I could hardly imagine how awful I was going to feel before this was all over with.

"Let's get out of public then," she murmured, voice hardly more than a whisper.

The stab of need was instantaneous and almost overwhelming.

The job said to do it, to take it to the sheets, to get to that next level of trust through intimacy, through a string of orgasms.

But everything else in me said no.

Not now.

Not to her.

No matter how much I wanted it, wanted her.

It would be wrong.

I wasn't sure I would ever get over the guilt if I did that to her.

Turned out, I was absolutely right.FOURMackenzieMy clothes were mostly dry when I climbed out of the basement sometime after the sun finally came up, waiting for my Uber as I hid between buildings, knowing they would be looking for me. Knowing the people at Hailstorm would be looking for me.

Exhaustion was pulling at my eyelids as I rode back to the hotel.

There had been a few decent options - and a handful of skeezy choices - in Navesink Bank. Several of them overlooked the river itself, likely the biggest attractors of tourists like me.

But I picked one stuck unceremoniously between a coffee shop and an old closed-down restaurant, no actual view save for the highway out front, the grocery store across the street, the hideous golden arches of the McDonald's.

I'd learned a long time ago that you didn't choose a hotel room for the beautiful views. You picked ones that let you see all the exits from your window, that had multiple ways to get out of Dodge if the shit hit the fan.

I hadn't made a lot of friends over the years. Sometimes, if they got pissed enough, they came and found me.

When you got your ass kicked a time or two, you learned quickly how to make sure no one could sneak up on you.

The room itself wasn't much to speak of with a dominant queen-sized bed, a small desk, a somewhat newly renovated bathroom. The gray carpet, white sheets, and even the sheers on the window were all surprisingly clean. And, hey, breakfast was included. If you considered stale-tasting coffee and a bowl of cereal breakfast. Luckily, after years of experiencing much worse fares, I did.

Peeling out of my clothes, I made my way toward the bathroom, checking out my reflection in the mirror.

The purple circles made a pretty picture. And I must have scratched my head against something trying to tunnel out for The Henchmen compound. The blood was dried, but explained the constant glances in the rearview the whole ride to the hotel.

At least it wouldn't scar.

On that, I climbed into the shower, washing the smell of the river out of my hair, scrubbing it off my body.

I wish I could say I knew it right away, that I hadn't been so lost in my own thoughts while I cleaned off, while I dried and wrapped myself into a towel.