Lessons in Corruption (The Fallen Men 1)

“Okay,” I said softly, looking up into his face so I could watch the warmth flood his icy eyes.

“Good, babe,” he whispered back in the same gentle way.

God, a tall, rough-edged biker man who could also be thoughtful, smart and kind?

He was too good to be true.

I just wished I’d known how literal that was at the time.

“Pick you up tonight at eight.”

“Okay, where are we going?” I asked.

There were only four restaurants in Entrance proper: the two formal, Donovan’s Steakhouse for family dinners and celebrations, and La Gustosa, the place to impress anyone and everyone with their phenomenal authentic Italian food; the informal, Stella’s Diner and an Earl’s, the one and only chain restaurant to infiltrate the town. I had only been to Earl’s and even then only once because when I was married, I’d needed to be out of the classroom and on the road home by four thirty at the latest in order to have dinner on the table for William by the time he got home from work.

“Somewhere outside of town.”

“Oh,” I pouted slightly. “I’d love to go somewhere here. Maybe Stella’s?”

He raised a brow at me. “Woulda taken you more for a La Gustosa kinda woman.”

I shrugged. “I’ve heard Arturo and Anna Lucia make the best pasta outside of Italy but I’ve been to lots of fancy restaurants and I have to admit, I haven’t had a really good burger in years.”

King reeled back as if I’d hit him, his eyes wide and mouth slack with horror. I giggled, as I’m sure he meant for me to.

“Well, we can’t have that. Burgers it is, but not Stella’s. Best place for a burger and fries is Pourhouse in Vancouver. You up for another ride on the back of my bike?”

“I like riding on the back of your bike,” I said, because it was true but also because I wanted to see his eyes turn to fire.

They did not disappoint.

He groaned, pressing my body fully into the car with his weight flush against me and his forehead tipped to mine. “Sexy as fuck, you like my bike.”

“Glad you think so,” I said, as if I wasn’t down to my toes thrilled that someone as freaking unbelievably attractive as King thought I was sexy.

“Now, I’m gonna kiss you ‘til your toes curl then I’m going to get one of the brothers to give you a ride to where you got to be.”

I was stuck on the kissing thing, my lips tingling and my gut tightening, so I didn’t object to making some stranger go out of their way to give me a ride to school.

“Okay.”

He grinned, then moved closer to press that smile to the corner of my mouth. “Like that word from you, baby.”

I opened my mouth, hopefully to say something feminist and independent but probably to say ‘okay’ again and again until he kissed me senseless but he was already on me, kissing me just like that.

He tasted good, fresh and clean like a drink of cool water. His hand found its place under my heavy hair, wrapped around my neck as if he knew I needed the support to hold me up in case my knees gave out.

“Be at yours at eight. You own a pair of jeans?” he asked after one last lingering kiss.

My eyes were still closed and I was considering the possibility that just a kiss could bring me to orgasm. With King, I honestly thought it might be achievable.

“Babe,” he called.

“Here, just recovering.”

His chuckle wafted over my lips. I licked them, tasting him on me, thinking his laugh had a taste and it was freaking awesome.

“You own jeans or just these sexy skirts?”

“I own jeans.” I opened my eyes under furrowed brows and huffed. “Of course, I own jeans. I’m Canadian. It’s a toss-up between jeans and Lulu Lemons, which is our national uniform.”

He grinned. “Coulda just said yes, Cress.”

I rolled my eyes. “Yes, King, I own jeans.”

The hand holding my neck squeezed then slid a long, languid path down my back and over my bottom. I shivered and King watched me do it, his eyes tracking the goose bumps that rippled up along my neck. He ducked his head to run his teeth and the very tip of his tongue down the side of my throat until he reached the juncture of my shoulder and gently bit there.

“Oh,” I gasped.

He pressed a chaste kiss to the top of my shoulder. “Gotta get goin’. Wish I didn’t.”

“Me too.”

“Tonight, Cress.” He pulled away, both hands at my neck, bracketing it firmly so that he could look me in the eyes.

“Tonight, King. Got it.”

“I’m gonna show you how to live, if you let me in to do it.”

I knew it. I knew it better than I knew Paradise Lost and I’d written my honors English thesis on it. I knew it better than I knew William’s schedule and I’d lived by it for eight years. King was a man who could change my life, throw me into the deep end when I’d only ever kept my feet in the warm waters of the shallows. I didn’t know if I was ready for such a massive change. I was still technically married, I had no experience to keep a man as wild as him anything close to satisfied let alone tame, and I had less than two thousand dollars in my bank account. Not exactly living the dream I’d dreamt of my whole life. But on the back of a bike with King, riding to nowhere with the smell of hot asphalt and his clean laundry scent in my nose, I thought that could easily be a new dream to dream and maybe, unlike the others, attain.