by Sophia Gray
“You can either hit the road, or I can make sure it hits you,” the Sergeant at Arms snarled.
Michael straightened his jacket and eyed William appraisingly for a moment. He decided that he didn’t want to try it and walked away as fast as he could without being accused of being a coward. William walked back to his table in the corner after giving the woman a quick glance and Ethan a raised eyebrow.
Clearly William was wondering what the hell she was doing there. William wasn’t the only one. A lot of the men in the bar had turned their attention her way. But none of them were willing to challenge Ethan.
Ethan turned to the bartender, trying to figure out the best way to approach her. “Whiskey.”
The bartender, not the least rattled by the near miss at a brawl, poured a glass and slid it over. Ethan picked it up and took a burning sip. The woman smiled at the bartender when he glanced her way.
“Same,” she said simply. The whiskey glass was in her hands before she looked up at Ethan again. “Thanks, by the way. I didn’t really know what to do.”
“No problem. That guy’s a dickhead.”
She nodded. “He looked like it.”
“And what about me?” Ethan asked. “What do I look like?”
She sipped her drink and then gave him a quick smile. “A man with good taste in whiskey.”
“And you look like a woman who got lost on her way to somewhere better,” he said bluntly. Hell, the only other option was “what’s a nice girl like you doing in a place like this?” and he wasn’t willing to go quite that far in order to get his question answered. “What are you doing here?”
She shrugged lightly and raised her glass to her lips. Just before she took a sip, she said, “Branching out. There are only so many fundraisers a woman can take.”
“I think you’re pretty safe from that here. The only time we have fundraisers is when Taylor’s too broke to drink,” Ethan said, raising his voice so his friend could hear him as he approached the bar.
Taylor laughed and flipped Ethan off. The woman smiled, revealing a dimple in her left cheek, and Ethan’s stomach clenched again.
“Never told you my name,” he said abruptly. “Ethan.” He held his hand out, wanting her touch.
“Amelia,” she answered, placing her small-boned hand into his.
Her skin was pale and smooth. His gaze dipped to her cleavage once more and he allowed himself a slightly longer glance now that she wasn’t afraid. Her breasts were on the small side, but they looked full for their size. There was a dusting of small freckles on her chest and he wanted to follow every one of them with his tongue.
“How do you like it, Amelia?” he asked, more insinuation in his tone than he’d planned.
Her blush at the question tinted her cheekbones a pleasing pink. It had been a long time since he’d seen a woman flush with anything other than anger or liquor. He saw her throat work as she swallowed.
“The bar or the company?” she asked, her voice only loud enough to be heard over the jukebox.
He leaned down, speaking closer to her ear. “Both.”
She turned her head, her breath warm on his skin as she said, “One’s okay. The other is exactly what I was looking for.”
He stepped back and finished his whiskey in one drink. He liked the light in her eyes and the curve of her mouth when she flirted with him. He liked the way that she spelled out what she wanted and what she thought. He was tired of the games that seemed to come with a night or two of mutual satisfaction.
“Dance with me,” she said suddenly.
“I don’t dance,” he answered just as quickly.
She stood up, finished her own drink, and caught his hand. “That’s okay. I do.”
Knowing that William and the rest of the guys were never going to let him live it down, and finding it completely impossible to care what they thought, Ethan let her pull him out near the jukebox. She smiled up at him, clearly happy that he was letting her lead him.
“Now,” she instructed. “Just put your hands on me and I’ll do the rest.”
He rested his hands on her slender hips as she found the rhythm in the song. She moved sensuously, her body brushing his just enough to make his skin tingle for more contact. He wanted to pull her closer, wanted to taste those red lips, the whiskey on her tongue.
“You’re pretty good at this,” he said as she twisted her hips, letting him feel her move.
Amelia gave a half smile, flashing that dimple again. “I’m good at a lot of things, Ethan.”
His hands tightened on her. He still didn’t quite understand why she was in this rundown biker bar, but he was so damn glad she was.
Chapter 6
Amelia
Amelia couldn’t quite believe she’d been so bold. Or so lucky. She had picked the bar at random, telling the cab driver to stop when she saw the gleaming motorcycles lined up under the neon lights. The cabbie had pressed his card into her hand when she’d insisted that this was where she wanted to be dropped off. He’d been so clearly concerned that she’d felt honored. While she appreciated the gesture, she hadn’t wanted anyone worrying about her tonight. This might be the last night she’d ever be truly free.
Of all the men she’d imagined populating a bar like this, she hadn’t expected anyone like the man she was currently dancing with. For one thing, he’d defended her and he’d done it without throwing a single punch. She’d been amazed and more than slightly relieved that the encounter between Ethan and Michael had ended the way it had ended. She was in the mood to be a little wild, but not quite ready for center of a bar fight wild.
For another thing, the man she was currently dancing with was better than good looking. He was devastatingly hot. Ethan had to be close to six and a half feet tall and he simply towered over her. His broad shoulders strained the seams of his plain black tee shirt and she could tell that the rest of him was just as muscular.
She couldn’t resist resting her hands on his biceps, which were rock hard. His chest and stomach were equally defined, but her courage wasn’t quite up to them yet. In her world of office workers and campaign managers, he was certainly the biggest man she’d ever been close to. And, yet, she felt perfectly safe.
It was more than just his body, though. He had a way of moving that was absolutely intentional and confident, even though he hadn’t been lying when he said that he didn’t dance. He was moving slightly, mostly just holding onto her, keeping his body as close to hers as he could get it. She wasn’t complaining. She wanted to look at him as closely as she could.
He had thick, black hair that was cut shorter on the sides and left slightly longer on top. He kept it pushed back, but stray pieces fell over his forehead, making him look a little less intimidating than his firm features and muscular build implied. She couldn’t quite make out the color of his eyes in the low bar lights, but they were dark. His smile was gorgeous, curving his lips, flashing even, white teeth, crinkling those dark eyes at the corners. It was especially delicious because she hadn’t expected any of the men here to have a sense of humor at all. A kissably firm jawline and a five o’clock shadow finished off his good looks. What would that stubble feel like on her skin? She didn’t know, but the thought of finding out sent shivers through her.
“These are nice,” she said when the music changed to a slower song, a classic rock ballad. She traced her finger down the inside of his forearm, admiring the art there. “I like all of them. Or at least, all the ones I can see.”
“Hell, I like everything about you,” he said, too distracted by how amazing such a simple touch from her felt and by how she was moving to conceal the way he was feeling.
“You do?” She regretted the question immediately. The woman she was channeling tonight wouldn’t be shocked at a man’s appreciation. She’d take it as her due.
He gave her a frank appraisal. “What’s not to like?”
Amelia saw the look in his eyes when Ethan pulled back and it made her breath catch in her throat.
Intent burned dark there and she felt herself begin to tremble. No one had ever looked at her that way. She stopped dancing, going onto her tiptoes, wrapping her arms around him, feeling the tension in his broad shoulders. “It all looks really good to me,” she said. “So... you’re in a biker bar...I’m guessing one of those bikes out there is yours....”
“Yeah?”
“Well...” She gathered her courage. It was easier than she’d thought it would be because she was close to desperate to have his amazing mouth on hers. “Will you let me ride?”
He scanned her face, seeming to make sure that they were on the same page. Then he grinned, a slow smile that made her knees go weak as her stomach somersaulted. “Only if you promise to hold on tight,” he said.
# # #
In the parking lot, Ethan stopped in front of a gleaming blue motorcycle.
“This one’s mine,” he said.
She could hear the pride in his voice. “What kind is it?”
He glanced down at her. “Are you really interested?”
“Of course I am!” Amelia answered, slightly indignant. “I might not know a lot about them, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to learn.”
Ethan eyed her appraisingly and then handed her his helmet without speaking. Before she had a chance to begin fumbling to put it on, he leaned down and kissed her. All she could do was grip the helmet as his mouth worked over hers. She’d been kissed before, of course. She’d even liked it. She’d always thought kisses were nice. Slightly tingly. Basically, just okay. This was completely different. It was like an earthquake in every heartbeat. Ethan’s lips coaxed hers to part easily and when his teeth caught her lower lip, she surprised herself with a moan of pleasure.
His hand tightened on the back of her neck at the sound, but he pulled back from the kiss. His breathing was a little heavy as he looked down at her, watching her steadily. She could feel her nipples tightening and she knew that he could see it through the thin silk of her dress.
“Still okay with going home with me?” he asked.
Amelia nodded rapidly and then cleared her throat, trying to look a little less desperately eager. “I’d love to.”
He grinned and traced his thumb down her cheek. “Good, because I’d love to have you.”
Before she could respond, he took the helmet out of her hands and pushed it down over her head. Then he slung a leg over the bike and helped her settle in behind him. She leaned close, pressing against his back.
“Arms around me,” he said, his voice rough. “Keep ‘em tight and lean when I lean. The sooner I get you home the better.”
She wrapped her arms around his waist, feeling his stomach muscles tense as he kicked the bike into gear. The hum of it between her legs, combined with feeling his lean back against her aching nipples, had her whole body tingling.
Amelia let her hands dip just slightly, down to the waistband of his jeans, where she cupped him surreptitiously. She couldn’t hear it over the roar of the bike, but she thought that she felt him groan. She caught her breath. He was pretty big. And likely to get bigger once they got started. Maybe she’d chosen the wrong guy.
They stopped at a red light and his hand moved back, rubbing the backs of his fingers down her thigh. Her skin tingled. No. This was the only man she wanted for the task at hand. She shivered when he squeezed her gently and then seamlessly pulling into traffic, driving confidently and casually. The way he moved with the bike was sexy as hell, an extension of the way he moved through a crowd.
It seemed like too soon when they pulled up to the curb and she had to slide off of the bike. Amelia looked up at the small white house. The blue painted window and doorframes were just visible under the flickering streetlight. The house itself was in good shape, though. Unlike the neighboring houses, Ethan’s had no peeling paint or ripped window screens. There wasn’t anything scattered on the postage stamp front lawn either.
It was just as unapologetically plain as the surrounding homes, though. There was no sign of any landscaping, and in Nevada's desert atmosphere, the brown grass crunched under her feet. He led her up the cracked concrete front steps and onto the small front porch where he fumbled for a second to get the key into the lock. His porch light was burnt out.
The door swung open and he pressed a switch, illuminating a small lamp that sat beside the door. The walls were bare and paneled. The carpet was old and worn down. She could see through the small room and into the kitchen where there were a few dishes piled in the sink. The appliances were plain white; none of the shine of stainless steel that she was used to.
But, again, the place was clean and relatively neat. Some mail was scattered on the couch and there were a few DVD cases and discs haphazardly tossed on the small table under the television that hung on the wall, but that was all. She turned to find his eyes scanning her face. He seemed to be bracing himself. This couldn’t possibly be the first time he’d brought a girl home...or was he just as aware of the differences between them as she had been?
“Pretty nice place for a single guy,” she said lightly. “I expected a carpet of beer bottles and maybe a crazy ex waiting behind the door.”
“We have an agreement. She only comes over on Tuesdays,” Ethan assured her. Then he wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her against him. “Now that I know the place meets your approval, I’d love to take you to the bedroom.”
Sudden nerves fluttered in Amelia’s stomach, but she nodded and then followed him down the short hall and into an even smaller room. It just managed to hold a bed, a nightstand, and a dresser and still leave room to walk around.
It was the bed that held her attention, though. Or, rather, the thought of what was about to happen in it. They were really going to do this. She was going to let this huge, rough, biker have her virginity. Excitement joined the nerves at the thought of him over her...inside her.
“Hey,” he said, tilting her chin so she was looking up at him. “Okay?”
And, just with that question, her nerves were gone. She nodded, standing on tiptoe again. “Better than okay,” she said.
He kissed her again, one of those all-consuming kisses that seemed to be his specialty. This time, his hands slid down her sides, moving around to cup her ass and rock her against him. In the spur of the moment, she wrapped her legs around him and a rough groan rumbled against her lips.
Ethan took a step, turning, pressing her against the bedroom door. She could feel his cock straining against her even through his thick jeans. It must be as big as the rest of him. When he gave a slight thrust between her widespread legs though, she threw her head back. Even clothed, he felt good.
“You aren’t wearing underwear,” he said in surprise.
She looked down to see that her dress had been rucked up, revealing more than she’d meant to right away. Amelia looked into his dark eyes and read pure lust there.
“God, if I’d known that when we were dancing, we never would have made it back here,” he said.
Keeping her braced between his body and the door, he reached down, grabbed the hem of the dress and pulled it up over her head. She was suddenly in nothing but her bra and heels. She hadn’t expected it to happen so fast. Or where he could see her so well. He’d see her scars. There would be questions...
He kissed her again, his hands cupping her ass and his tongue teasing hers insistently. Relief flooded her and she returned the kiss with abandon, wanting more and more of him. His t-shirt was frustrating her; she wanted to feel his heated skin against hers.
Amelia put her feet on the floor again and tugged his shirt off. His chest was better than she’d imagined. There was a tattoo across it, but she couldn’t really read it in the half light of his bedroom, so maybe he hadn’t seen her scars after all. A slight sheen of sweat made his body even more mouthwatering. Dark hair made a line that dipped into his jeans. She followed it. When his stomach muscles went tense, she slid her hand under his waistband and found his cock.
It was as big as she
’d thought it was. Heavy and long and thick, she loved the feel of it in her hand. She just wasn’t ready to have it between her legs. Ethan unbuttoned his jeans and shoved them down, kicking off his boots, too.
“Do you like this?” Amelia asked, even though she could see that he did. His cock was throbbing in her hand; she was surprised that she could feel it.
“A little bit too much.” He picked her up, carrying her to the bed and dropping her down onto it. Intent was burning in his eyes again.
“Wait!” Amelia cried. This was too sudden. “Not...not yet.”
Ethan looked confused. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing...it’s just...” She decided that a half-truth fit the situation best. “It’s just that you’re going to be the biggest I’ve ever had. I’m not ready yet.”
He couldn't hold back a grin at that knowledge. “Okay,” Ethan said. “I can fix that.”
