by Chelle Bliss
The guy laughs. “No, darlin’. We didn’t do it, but I’m hungry, and I’m sure the hangover you’re nursing needs some hair of the dog, along with something greasy.”
I blink a few times, wondering if I’m hearing him right or if I’m still drunk and not quite understanding what he’s saying. “You want to take me to breakfast?”
He lets go of my wrist and rubs his forehead, leaning over the couch with his elbows resting on his knees. “Clearly she isn’t as smart as she seemed last night,” he mutters to himself. “This is what I get for wanting to bang the hot girl.”
I rise up higher on my knees, my back straight, still blinking at him with my mouth hanging open. “I’m the hot girl?” I ask.
He lifts his head enough to see my eyes. “Are you shitting me with this?”
“Pike, right?” I ask because last night is a little fuzzy, which is odd because I didn’t have that much to drink. But it had been a while since I’d drunk something stronger than beer. He nods, and I continue as I finally climb to my feet. “I am not shitting you. Are you shitting me?”
He throws his body back into the couch and runs his hand through his still hot-as-fuck bed head. “About breakfast?” he asks.
“About everything.”
His gaze intensifies as he stares up at me with those dreamy green eyes. “I’m hungry. Are you?”
“Yes.”
“Then let’s eat.”
“Okay…” I whisper as my stomach growls.
It won’t be so bad sitting across from Pike and sharing a meal. We don’t have jack to talk about, but at least I’ll be full and can buy a little time before I go back to my room and have to face Mallory.
“And, babe,” he says and pauses, sitting motionless.
“Yeah?”
He’s on his feet, hand on my jaw, eyes locked on mine. “You were one of the hottest chicks there. You’re a little fucking loony and can’t hold your liquor worth shit, but you’re off-the-charts hot.”
My knees wobble a little like I’m drunk on his gaze and the words he just spoke. “Now you’re really shitting me,” I whisper, swallowing hard because I suddenly want to launch myself into his arms and finish what we started last night. “But I could eat.”
The corner of his mouth twitches as his thumb grazes my bottom lip whisper-soft. “I could eat too.”
Oh, fuck me dead. I know he’s not talking about breakfast.
“So, breakfast…” My mouth’s suddenly dry. My stomach isn’t growling anymore; it’s fluttering like a horde of tiny butterflies have taken flight inside it. I start toward the door, but he hauls me backward and in front of him again.
His eyes move down to the floor, but mine are firmly planted on his face. “You’re probably going to need shoes.”
I close my eyes, wishing I could start the last twelve hours over again. There’s so much I would do differently, and maybe I wouldn’t look like such a newb in front of this hot-as-fuck badass biker guy.
My face heats, and I want to crawl into a hole and die. “Yeah. Shoes would be good,” I whisper, unable to take my eyes off him.
He releases me, but I don’t move right away. It’s like he’s cast an invisible net around me, holding me to him. Maybe it’s the fact that I haven’t had any action in months, or the fact that every time he looks at me, I can see the hunger in his eyes…and he’s not thinking about bacon and eggs.
“Sandals,” he says as he sits on the couch and pulls on a boot.
“Yeah,” I say, still not hauling ass because I’m too busy watching his every move. The way his muscles dance under his ink-covered skin is completely hypnotic.
“Do you need me to put them on your feet?”
“Yeah,” I whisper again because my brain is fried, and I’m not thinking straight. “Wait, no.” I wave my hands when he starts to stand. “I got it.”
“Thank fuck for small miracles,” he teases, putting his ass back on the couch as he grabs the other boot.
I silently chastise myself as I walk around to the side of the bed, finding my sandals placed neatly together, facing outward like he cared. I slide my toes between the plastic and close my eyes, trying to calm the fuck down. “Is it a far walk?”
“Nope. We’re taking my bike. That a problem?”
Something about that makes me smile. Erik and Keith didn’t have bikes. They both preferred their souped-up sports cars to the roar of a motorcycle. But they were boys, and Pike is all man.
“Nope,” I repeat his words and tone. “Just let me make myself halfway presentable.”
I don’t wait for his approval before I take off toward the bathroom and shut myself inside. Leaning against the door, I allow myself a moment to freak out. Once I’ve whispered “Holy shit” for the tenth time, I move toward the sink and get a glimpse of my post-tequila face. I scrub away the smeared mascara with the little soap that is still in the wrapper next to the sink. As soon as my face is dry, I almost squeal when I find his toothpaste and place a drop on my finger, scrubbing my teeth and the rancid taste of last night away. “It’ll do,” I say to myself in the mirror, wiping away the toothpaste from my lips.
“Let’s hit it,” he says near the doorway, ticking his head toward outside as soon as the bathroom door opens. “I’m starving, and the day is wasting.”
“What time is it?” I ask him as I brush past him and shield my eyes from the blazing sun.
“One.”
“One?” I gasp, realizing I slept half the day away. “In the afternoon?”
He’s right on my heels, laughing because I’m an idiot and making no moves to try to hide how stupid I can be, especially around him. “No, darlin’. The sun decided to come out at night just for you.”
I slap his chest as soon as he’s next to me. “Don’t be a dick.”
“Don’t make it so easy.”
“I don’t make shit easy, Pike.”
He reaches into his pocket and taps the cigarette packet into his palm. “No shit. I’m learning that quickly, and the hard way,” he teases with a smirk, and it takes everything in me not to smack him again.
“Um, Pike.”
“Yeah?”
I tuck a lock of hair that had fallen free behind my ear. “Can you not smoke?”
“Seriously?”
“Uh. Yeah. I don’t like it, and it’s not good for you.”
He tilts his head but doesn’t put up much of a fight before putting the cigarette back in the pack. “It can wait.”
I try not to smile at my victory.
An hour later, we’re jamming pancakes down our throats like it’s an Olympic sport and we’re both aiming for the gold medal.
“How old are you?” I ask Pike.
“Twenty-six. You?”
“I told you last night I’m twenty-two.” Which was a lie, of course, but I’m not going to tell him the truth now after everything that’s happened. I am a month shy of my twenty-first birthday, even if the fake ID in my pocket says otherwise.
Pike nods, shoving another forkful of pancakes into his mouth, chewing slowly as he stares at me across the table. I squirm in my seat because I expect him to call bullshit, but he lets it go. “Where ya from?”
“Miami. You?”
“Up north.”
“Northern Florida?”
“A little farther.”
I roll my eyes. I lied about my answer, but at least I was more specific than “down south.”
“Are you a badass biker for a living?” I set my fork down, knowing if I don’t stop eating soon, I’ll need a nap and probably assistance wobbling out of this dive.
Pike laughs, and it’s the most beautiful thing in the world. Serious Pike is hot as fuck, but laughing Pike takes my breath away. “Nah, darlin’. I’m not a biker in that way. I ride because I love it. I’m not in an MC or anything.”
“So, what do you do?” I ask again because he’s cagey, and I’m not getting much out of the guy.
“I’m a tattoo artist.”
> My eyes widen because I know the community is both big and small. Sounds like an oxymoron, but I know the probability of most tattoo artists in the South knowing my family is pretty damn high. Inked is one of the most well-known shops in the South after being featured in dozens of magazines over the years.
“That sounds fun.” I lean back in the booth, fidgeting with my napkin.
“What do you do?”
“I’m between jobs right now, but I’m looking for work as a graphic designer.” Technically, I’m not lying. I am between jobs, but I leave out the bit about my college classes. I will be doing graphic design, but not on paper or in a digital format. I’ll be tattooing skin just like him.
“What’s your medium?” he asks, running his last forkful of pancakes through the lake of syrup on his plate.
“I’m a traditionalist. I like drawing by hand.”
“Me too. Those girls from last night old coworkers?”
“Shit. I forgot about them.” I pull out my phone from my purse, but I don’t look down at the screen. “One is my cousin, but we all work together and figured Daytona was the place to be this week.”
I glance down, finally seeing the five missed calls and ten text messages from Tamara. My eyes widen at the level of crazy in her text messages.
Are you okay?
Hey asshole, I’m getting worried.
Are you alive or dead?
Fucker… You better reply to me!
I know you’re busy sucking cock and all, but use those fingers to text me back, bitch.
Goddamn it. Should I call the police?
Your ass better be dead since you’re not replying.
I’m going to kill you when I see you again.
OMG. If you’re dead, your father is going to kill me, and then my father will kill me.
I’m too young to die. I hate you.
“They lookin’ for you?” he asks as I chew on my bottom lip, typing out a reply.
At breakfast. I’m fine. Great, even. Don’t worry so much. I’ll text you later, and we can meet up for drinks.
“Nah. They’re good. They know I’m always safe.”
“You know that shit last night was not safe.”
I lift my gaze to Pike. “I’m alive, aren’t I?”
He nods. “If you’d have gone with someone else, you might not be. You can’t just walk up to a stranger in a bar, ask if they want to get out of there, be shit-faced drunk on top of it, and think you’re definitely going to walk away unscathed.”
“But I did.” I shrug as my phone vibrates in my hand.
Thank fuck. I was about to call Uncle James or Uncle Thomas.
“You didn’t look like a serial killer.”
Pike’s face grows serious as he kicks back into the booth, crossing his arms over his chest, showing off that ink and those muscles. “And what does a killer look like?”
“Fuck if I know, but not you.” I smile because he’s right, but I feel a lecture about to start, and I’m not going to listen. “I’m alive and breathing.”
“Because it was me you left with. Anyone else and shit could’ve been way different.”
I lean forward, pushing my empty plate to the side, and stare at the hottie who’s now preaching to me on personal safety. “You’re not my father, Pike, and while I appreciate the lecture, it’s not needed. I was looking for a good time, and while it didn’t end the way I’d planned, shit turned out just fine.”
We’re headed to Froggy’s in an hour. Meet us there, and bring the hot guy and his friends if he has any.
“Fair enough.”
“Now, my friends are going to Froggy’s if you want to go too. But I imagine after last night, you probably want to ditch me for someone else. So, if you can just drop me there, you can do your thing and I’ll do mine.”
“You going to pull that shit you did last night with someone else tonight?”
I shrug and give him my best poker face. “I don’t know. The day is young, and the night is long.”
Pike’s jaw tightens and his eyes flash. “I’m coming,” he says quickly.
“Don’t put yourself out or anything. I don’t need a bodyguard, especially not someone I don’t even know. I’ve survived this long without you watching over my shoulder. I think I’ll last another night.”
Pike leans forward, our knuckles touching on top of the table. He studies me. “I know you don’t need me to watch over you, but if you’re going home with anyone, it’s going to be me, darlin’. We never finished what we started last night, and I’m a man who likes to follow through.”
“That’s so romantic,” I tease, rolling my eyes.
“You want romance, I’ll give you romance. You want to fuck, I’m the man to fuck you. Whatever you want, I’ll be the one giving it to you.”
“Why?” I blurt out, wondering why this hot-as-fuck biker guy wants to saddle himself with me all day.
“Because you seem hell-bent on a good time, and there’s no one more equipped to give you that good time than me. You want to let your hair down and get wild, baby, I’ll be right there with you. The one thing I won’t do—” he touches his hand to his chest “—is let another man be the one to give it to you.”
I suck in a breath, feeling like he’s punched me straight in the gut. I should hate him. I should tell him to go to hell. I can have fun with any guy here. And trust me, there’re thousands of them here this week to pick from.
“Okay.” He’s hot as fuck, and like Mallory said… The best way to get over Erik is to get under someone else.
That someone else might as well be the hottie across from me, who’s staring at me like he’s starving even though he ate a stack of pancakes it shouldn’t be humanly possible to consume.
He leans back and reaches into his pocket. “Let’s blow this joint and get the party started, yeah?”
“I don’t want to go to the bar.”
The thought of drinking right now makes my stomach turn.
“I’ll take you anywhere you want.”
“Take me back to your hotel room.”
4
Pike
I open the door to the bathroom, tucking the edge of the towel around my waist and stop dead. Gigi’s standing in the middle of the room with her towel still wrapped around her body, hair damp and wild as she pushes her fingers through her locks.
“Do you have a brush?” she asks.
My gaze travels up her body, taking in her long, tanned legs as she turns to face me.
“I don’t.” I barely get the words out because she’s still in the damn towel.
She said she was going to get dressed before I headed into the bathroom to wash off yesterday’s grime. When she left the bathroom, she had her dirty clothes pulled tight against her chest like she was using them as a blocker between us.
“Figured you wouldn’t with that hair.” She ticks her chin upward, smiling at the mess that’s on my head. It’s always in a state, and I gave up a long time ago trying to tame the style in any way.
I rub the back of my neck, trying to do something with my hands besides ripping the towel off her body and having my way with her. “I can run and get you one.”
“No,” she says, taking a step closer to me. “Don’t go.”
I still haven’t moved from the doorway to the bathroom. It’s like my feet are glued to the floor. Besides my chest heaving and my heart pounding frantically, the only other thing moving on my body is my cock.
She reaches for my face, but I grab her wrist, needing to set her straight. “Darlin’, don’t start something I’m not sure you want to finish.”
The warning is gentle and soft, but necessary. After last night and standing here in our towels now, I want her so badly, I’m aching to bury myself deep inside her.
Her eyes burn with just as much need as mine do. “What if I don’t want to stop?” she challenges, stepping even closer so her towel brushes against my chest. “Maybe I want this just as much as you do.”
�
��Maybe isn’t a yes, Gigi. I don’t want there to be any miscommunication about what’s going to happen. I’m wound so tight right now, I might break.”
Her free hand moves to my towel, groping my cock through the rough fabric. I suck in a breath and close my eyes, tightening my hold on her wrist. “Gigi.”
She moves her fingers up and down my shaft, causing my legs to tremble. “I want you, Pike. I’ve wanted you since the moment I laid eyes on you.”
I open my eyes, peering down at her beautiful face and soft smile. “You don’t know what you’re asking.”
“I’m asking you to fuck me.” She tightens her grip, moving her hand faster until I’m so hard, I’m almost panting. “I know exactly what I’m asking, Pike. But if you can’t give it to me…”
“I can give you everything.” I lift my hand to cup her face and angle my mouth close to hers. “I want to taste your mouth.” I run my thumb along her bottom lip. “I want to taste you everywhere.”
She moves her hand to the top of my towel, pulling the material apart as my lips crash down on hers, getting the taste I’ve been dying for since last night. I slide my hand into her hair, holding her face to mine as I swallow her moans and my own. Her towel falls away, pooling near our feet as her skin touches mine. It’s like a million little electric shocks go off at once.
Her hands are on my hips as I slide my other hand to her back, memorizing the dip of her spine as I move my palm to her ass. “So fuckin’ soft,” I murmur against her lips.
“So fuckin’ hard,” she murmurs back as her fingertips move up to my abdomen, toying with my V.
My stomach clenches at the way her fingers trail over my flesh, sending goose bumps scattering across my body.
She’s hesitant. I can tell by her movements this isn’t her usual thing. Most women would be grabbing at my cock, but not her. She’s busy touching my body, exploring what I have elsewhere and not what’s the usual main attraction.
I pull my lips away, knowing I have to give her another out. She’s a big talker, but maybe the reality of what we’re about to do has finally sunk in. “We don’t have to do this.”
