Ridden (Scandalous Moves Book 3)

by Deborah Grace Staley

  “Yeah. Rockwood Prep.” This guy had gone to private school with her? High school? “You still look like the girl who was elected homecoming queen two years running.”

  “Thank you,” she said automatically. “I wish I could say you look the same as well, but I’m afraid I’m drawing a complete blank.”

  He smiled and brushed her hand when he took his jacket from her. Madeline’s breath hung in her chest as her reaction to him worked its way through her ridiculously susceptible body.

  He shrugged into his coat. “That’s okay. You’ll have time to figure it out.”

  She shook her head to combat the attraction. “I’m sorry?”

  “Looks like I’m giving you a ride into town.”

  Madeline looked from the biker to his motorcycle and back. “On that?”

  His gaze slid down her body and back up. Madeline felt it the same as if he’d touched her. The end result left her body overheated and unapologetically needy.

  “It’ll be a little tricky with that skirt,” he said. “But I think you can manage it. We won’t be going far.”

  She should have said she’d stay with the car. Should have asked him to go and send a tow truck. But she didn’t do either of those things. Instead, she got her purse, locked the car, rejoined him at the rear of the car, and said, “Let’s go.”

  2

  A.J. opened his saddlebag and pulled out a helmet then turned to Maddie Greene. He put the helmet over her perfectly styled, shoulder-length red hair that he remembered being blonde back in the day. He adjusted the chinstrap while she watched him with her huge green eyes that threatened to swallow him whole if he didn’t watch himself.

  He held out his hand. I think I can fit your purse in the saddlebag. It’ll make holding on easier,” he said.

  She handed him her bag, and the trust she offered humbled him. When their hands brushed again, he felt the heat from his fingers to the tip of his overeager cock. His inner bad boy shouted in his ear. “Oh, yeah. You know how much you like undoing the ones that are laced up tight. And I bet she’s real tight . . .”

  “Shut up,” he said to himself. “No one’s undoing anything.”

  A.J. stowed her purse and turned back to Maddie. She was eyeing his bike speculatively. “How’s this going to work?” she asked.

  He grasped her waist and lifted her onto the back of his bike. She let out a little gasp of shock and held tight to his biceps, which he couldn’t help flexing when her hands made contact. There was no mistaking the heat that flashed in her eyes, and he couldn’t hold back his grin of satisfaction. Yeah. She was seeing him now.

  Her tight black skirt allowed for minimal movement, but the slit that extended halfway up her thigh provided a nice view of her long, silky leg. He grasped her calf and helped her to cross her legs and sit sidesaddle. Then he bent to cup her ankle and guide her foot so that he situated her kick-ass heels on the foot peg. After he’d taken his time appreciating her body, he saw that she held onto the “oh shit” chrome bar behind her, which had her shoulders back and displayed her generous curves for his viewing pleasure.

  His inner bad boy was in overdrive now, growling and begging to be unleashed. A.J put on his helmet and straddled the bike. He reached behind, took her wrist, and then pulled her in close, pressing her hand against his abs. “Hold on tight now.” The engine revved in time with his heart rate as she wrapped her other arm around him and pressed her curvy body against his back.

  “Shit,” he mumbled, while that inner voice in his head screamed, “Hell, yeah. We’re gettin’ lucky tonight. You can thank me later for talking you into leaving work early to take the bike for a spin.”

  “What?” Maddie said near his ear.

  Her scent and body surrounded him, and he was way past holding back his reaction to her. He disengaged the kickstand and said, “Here we go.”

  Maddie Greene, homecoming queen, cheer captain, and valedictorian sat on the back of his Harley. He hadn’t seen her since she’d left Hidden Harbor and her douchebag of a husband behind. It must have been something like five years after they’d graduated high school. When he’d come home on break from college his freshman year to hear that she’d married Billy Ray Carter, he’d called the person who’d told him “a damn liar.” But it had been true. And not only were they married, Maddie had been pregnant. Close to twenty years had passed now. He wondered what had brought her back to town.

  He got the bike up to speed. She leaned into the curves like a pro, her body synced with him and the bike, and he couldn’t help imagining their body’s syncing in another way. “Down boy,” he murmured, even though he knew there was no way to tamp down his reaction to Maddie. The years faded to nothing. Every guy in high school had wanted her, including him, but she’d never given any of them the time of day. Today, it appeared, was a new day. And he was a different man. Back then he’d been a good guy—the boy next door. The pleaser who’d made his family proud. God, that had been exhausting. Now he focused on doing what pleased him.

  “Yeah. Screw that,” his inner voice said. “And speaking of screw—”

  He signaled and guided the bike into the parking lot of Hale’s Tavern a little too hot. Gravel flew, but he expertly maneuvered to a stop, adding his bike to a line of about twenty others. From the raucous sounds spilling out of the wooden structure, happy hour was in full swing.

  He grasped Maddie’s hand, then threw his leg over the bike in front of him and stood. Holding her steady, she slid off in one sensuous movement that inched her skirt up her legs and fired his already overheated blood. “That was fun,” she said, her voice husky, and stepped into him.

  “Yeah?” Since she seemed inclined, he rested a hand on her hip while he unbuckled her chinstrap and removed the helmet. She shook her hair out and ran her fingers through the tousled waves while he had an X-rated fantasy right there on the spot.

  “Oh, yeah,” she agreed, her voice still intimate.

  He removed his helmet and hooked it on the handlebar. When he looked back at her, he let his eyes ease down her body and back. “You don’t seem the biker type.”

  Maddie put a hand on his abs. “There isn’t a woman alive who wouldn’t enjoy riding with you.” She moved even closer and added. “And I think you know that,” her eyes dipped to his mouth and back up to his eyes, and she added, “don’t you?”

  He settled both hands low on her hips. “Maddie Greene. Are you coming on to me?”

  The homecoming queen of his dreams eased a hand from his abs to his chest and said, “If you have to ask, I must be doing it wrong.” She tipped her chin up and her nose bumped his jaw. “Tell me your name.”

  He pushed his sunglasses up to the top of his head and rasped his two-day shadow down her soft cheek. When his lips neared her ear, he said, “I’ll give you three guesses.”

  She tipped her head back and stroked her body up his like a cat stretching. “Give me a hint.”

  Her breath on his skin ramped up his need to taste her, but he held back. “We had Chemistry together.” That had been the longest four months of his life. He’d tried everything to get her attention, but nothing had worked.

  “Given the chemistry we’ve got working right now, that’s hard to believe.”

  He nuzzled her ear. “You hardly noticed anything but my beakers.”

  Her hand glided over his ass. “Impossible.”

  “True,” he countered.

  “I remember being partnered with another cheerleader, a band geek, and the quarterback.”

  “I wasn’t the cheerleader,” he offered, and pressed his lips to the sensitive spot behind her ear. Her feminine shiver was gratifying.

  He felt her smile against his jaw. “That leaves two possibilities.”

  “If you’re remembering correctly,” he evaded. “I didn’t say we were lab partners.”

  “Are you saying my memory is faulty?”

  He lifted a shoulder and just stared at her, eyes hooded.

  She looked at him so
long he had to resist the urge to squirm. “Band geek turned bad boy or star of the football team turned bad boy. Neither seems a logical progression.”

  He still didn’t speak.

  “Another hint.”

  “You got the first one free. You’ll have to pay for the rest.”

  “What’s your price,” she asked immediately, clearly game.

  He focused on her mouth, and she smiled. “I like how you think,” she said.

  But instead of giving her what she expected, he said, “Information.”

  Maddie tipped her head to the side. “I stand corrected.”

  “You’ve stayed away from Hidden Harbor for some time. What brings you back to town?”

  “Family business,” she said, not elaborating. She looked over her shoulder toward the building. “You know someone I could call about my car?”

  “Yeah. I have a friend.”

  Her smile was slow and sexy. “I thought you might.” She ran her fingers through her hair, fluffing it a bit. “Let me buy you a beer. It’s the least I can do.” She paused and added, “A.J.”

  He grinned. “You didn’t need the third hint. That’s too bad. I was looking forward to the payment.” He stared at her lips, imagining them on his. Damn. He’d lost focus and missed out.

  She let her gaze slide nice and slow down his body and didn’t increase her speed on the way back up. “There’s no way you were a band geek,” she finally said. “But I’m wondering.”

  “What?” he prompted.

  “What’s an all-around good guy like A.J. Johnson doing playing the bad boy?”

  “You assumed I was a good guy back then. You didn’t really know me.”

  “Touché.”

  “How ’bout that beer. You can order while I make the call,” he said.

  “Okay.”

  He put her helmet in the saddlebag and handed her purse to her. After gesturing for her to precede him, he enjoyed watching the material of her skirt slide with the movement of her hips as she walked ahead of him. He slipped around her after they’d walked up the steps to open the door for her.

  “See,” she said. “Nice guy.”

  “There’s not a guy in here who wouldn’t hold a door for a lady,” he countered. In way of response, she raised her eyebrow and walked inside.

  The interior looked darker than normal after coming out of the late day sunshine. Something rock with guitars screaming played loudly. The place was filled with locals getting off work plus travelers stopping for the night. A.J. rested a hand at the base of Maddie’s back and guided her to the bar.

  “Maddie Greene? Is that you?”

  “Carla Patino. It’s been a while. How are you?” Maddie said as she slid onto a barstool. She wasn’t dressed for a biker bar, but she sat on the barstool like she belonged.

  “I’m good.” Carla cut her eyes to A.J. and then back to Maddie, clearly curious about their connection.

  “Maddie got a flat on the way into town,” A.J. said. “She’s gonna need a tow. Mind if I use your phone.”

  Carla held up her cell. “Ever seen one of these?” she said, tongue in cheek.

  A.J. took the phone. “I like doing things the old-fashioned way. You need me, drop by. You know? If I’m not home, leave a message on my answering machine. I don’t want to be bothered 24/7.”

  Carla looked at Maddie and jabbed a thumb toward A.J. as he dialed and stepped away. “The last John Wayne,” she said and shook her head. “What can I get you?”

  Maddie watched A.J. He had a good walk—long legs, lean hips, nice ass. “Two beers. Whatever A.J. usually drinks is fine.”

  Carla Patino had lived down the street from Maddie, but they’d never been good friends. Not that there was any kind of animosity between them. They’d just run in different circles.

  “Lucky you, having A.J. happen along just when you needed help,” Carla said. She uncapped two longnecks and set them on the bar in front of Maddie. “But you were always lucky . . . in most things.”

  Maddie looked at Carla as she took a drink of the ice-cold beer. The tangy alcohol felt good on her tongue. She hadn’t had a Bud Light in forever. Billy Ray had preferred Miller. She took another sip. She hated Miller. She glanced around the interior of the bar. Rough-hewn wood lined the walls and hundreds of motorcycle tags were nailed to them along with motorcycle brand signage.

  “What brings you to town?” Carla asked.

  Maddie had forgotten how nosy people could be in small towns. “Business,” she said without elaborating.

  Carla eyed Maddie’s designer suit and probably wondered what kind of business could bring the CEO of a Manhattan financial firm to Jersey. Maddie couldn’t fault her curiosity. She’d left Hidden Harbor after divorcing her sorry-ass-excuse for a husband and hadn’t looked back. Demons be damned, she shouldn’t be here now. What the hell had she been thinking coming here? What if Billy Ray walked in? He’d spent most of his nights at Hale’s Tavern when they’d been married. He probably still did. Coming back was one thing. Running into her ex within an hour of crossing the city limits was another thing entirely.

  A.J. joined Maddie and handed Carla her phone with a “thank you.” To Maddie he said, “My buddy’s going to fix your flat. I can take you over to pick it up when it’s done.” He gave her a concerned look and said, “You okay?”

  “Bathroom,” she said, feeling the air lodge in her chest. Shit. She hadn’t had a panic attack in years, but—

  A.J. took her arm and steered her to a hallway in the back. “Hey, take a breath.”

  Didn’t he think she would if she could? She got her arm out of his grip and went into the Ladies Room. She turned on the tap and splashed cold water on her face. The shock got her breathing again. When she’d calmed down, she tore several paper towels from of the dispenser, patted her face dry, and then dug in her purse for a compact and some lipstick. She heard a knock at the door. “Maddie? You okay?”

  A.J. She’d forgotten about him out there. So much for the triumphant return of the new and improved Madeline Greene who didn’t take shit from anyone. Less than an hour back in town, and she was already thinking of herself as “Maddie” again. She wadded the paper towels and tossed them into the trash. She looked at herself in the mirror. A fraud stared back at her. She’d run from her demons. Sure, she’d moved on, become a success, a woman with a reputation for being hard and cynical. But deep down, that eighteen-year-old who’d gotten herself knocked-up and into an abusive marriage was still there. Still hurting. God, there was nothing she hated more than vulnerability, and Hidden Harbor had re-opened her old wounds embarrassingly fast.

  The door swung open and A.J. walked in like he belonged. It was a one-stall bathroom, but he locked the door anyway. He stepped right into her personal space and grasped her shoulders, missing nothing as he assessed her. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” he said quietly.

  “You’re in the Ladies Room,” she countered.

  “You didn’t answer when I asked if you were okay, so I had no choice.”

  Well if that didn’t sound perfectly reasonable, but her days of being controlled by men were long gone. She needed a distraction. A reminder that she wasn’t still that scared eighteen-year-old girl with no choices. And as far as distractions went, even though good guys were far from her type, A.J. looked the part of bad boy, which did it for her. Always had. The difference now was, she had men on her terms. She firmly maintained the control. She set the rules.

  “Maddie?”

  Her eyes covered about as much ground as they could. “Take off your jacket.” Without waiting for him to comply, she pushed it off his shoulders. As soon as it hit the floor, she tugged his t-shirt up and pushed him back to the wall.

  “What are you doing?”

  She got the t-shirt off him and opened her blouse. “You.”

  3

  Maddie’s shirt hung open revealing a lacy white bra that did a lot in the lift department, but very little to cover. The upper curves
of her breasts spilled out for his viewing pleasure. She had an agenda and couldn’t be bothered with niceties. She dug in his pockets, apparently looking for change, which she put in the condom machine. After giving the front of his jeans an assessing look, she made her selection—extra-long magnum, ultra-thin.

  Packet in hand, she came back to him. Her blouse slid down her arms, and she put an extra swing in her hips to ramp up the hot factor. He had about a hundred questions, but they all froze on his tongue when she put the packet between her teeth and went to work on his belt. He bunched her skirt in his hands and inched it up her thighs. By the time he had brushed her panties aside and found ground zero, she had pushed his jeans and boxer briefs down his thighs and was stroking him, working him up, not that he needed it. He was plenty worked up just looking at her. Her slick heat coated his fingers and he groaned.

  She pushed the straps of her bra off her shoulders and went breast to chest, her nipples hard against him. His t-shirt joined his jacket, and she traced the thick lines of the black tribal tattoo on his pec. Her other hand still stroked his cock. He slid a finger into her and then another, while his thumb circled her clit. She tipped her head back and moaned, so he added a third finger and stroked deeper. Maddie ripped open the condom with her teeth and rolled it down him.

  “In me. Now,” she demanded.

  In response, A.J. lifted her, setting her on the edge of the wall-mounted sink. He pulled her panties down her legs then locked his mouth on her breast and went back to working her with his fingers. He found her G-spot and leaned into it. A flush covered her chest and bloomed up her neck, but she held back, not coming. “Let go,” he said, tugging on her nipple with his teeth. Her spiked heels bit into the backs of his thighs, and she looked like she was holding her breath, the same way she held back from the pleasure he wanted to give her. He dropped to his knees and put his mouth on her, stroking her with his tongue then sucking on her clit. And she exploded, a cry on her lips as her release washed over her.

  A.J. growled his satisfaction. He stood and watched her fall apart while he moved his fingers in and out of her. With her features softened by her orgasm, she looked even more beautiful. As she settled and opened her eyes, A.J. grinned and stroked into her. “Hang on,” he said, then lifted and turned to anchor her against the wall.