by Cari Quinn
He held out his hand again. “Not as many as you think.”
She shoved her wallet in the inside pocket and took his hand. “Lead on.”
They were strangely quiet as they rode the elevator, but the air was definitely charged with something. He was so easy to be around, but the danger level he brought out in her scared the crap out of her. Just being around him made her feel out of control.
The sun was still high enough in the sky to glint off the chrome and leather motorcycle that sat right in front of her building. She’d been expecting a Harley and was pleasantly surprised to find the old-school Indian with its compact design.
“Roadmaster,” he said as if reading her mind. “It was my first big purchase after I got out of college. My mother still crosses herself every time she sees me on it.” He smoothed his large hand over the worn leather seat. “My first true love.”
She couldn’t quite stop the laugh. She hunkered down, frowning at the intricate locks on the saddle bags. “Is that what I think it is?” She grinned up at him, flicking the small lock.
He crouched in front of her, curling his hand around hers, then pressed his thumb against the smooth metal, which glowed red then green as it snicked open. “It’s slightly modified from the original design, but yep, that’s it.”
“I keep meaning to ask you how you came up with the design, but then we um…”
He grinned. “End up making out.”
“Don’t look so smug.”
He pressed his lips tightly together, but the smirk was still there. He stood, clearing his throat. “I designed it after one too many robberies. I live in a pretty decent part of town,” he gestured over his shoulder, “up in North Beach, but a bike doesn’t exactly have locks. So…” he trailed off and snapped the lock back on. “I needed an indestructible lock, hence the titanium metal that can withstand the standard bolt cutters.”
She stood, instinctively brushing close to him. “Couldn’t they just rip off the bag?” she asked, tugging on the leather saddlebag.
“Sure,” his breath stirred her hair, “but someone’s more likely to notice if they took a knife to it than flipping it open like they owned the bike.”
She turned until her cheek brushed his jawline. “That’s true.” He was scruffy again, the midday sun accenting the angles of his face.
He glanced down at her mouth, then back into her eyes. With more self-control than she had—as usual—he climbed onto the bike, settling into the seat as if he’d done it a thousand times. Flicking the kickstand up with the back of his boot, he adjusted for balance and handed her a helmet. “Come on, Miranda. Live a little.”
Knowing his body, kissing him, even having him inside her wasn’t nearly as intimate as wrapping herself around him on hundreds of pounds of steel and trusting him not to kill her. She grasped his shoulders, sliding around the back of him. Oddly enough, she had plenty of room, though the bike was angled to keep her tucked into him. Not sure what to do with her feet, she sucked in a quick breath as he wrapped his fingers around her calf until she found the small footholds.
So much for good hair, she thought as she fastened the chin strap. A few moments later, he was pulling into traffic and she tried to control the adrenaline that bubbled inside her. He gunned the engine; she was pretty sure it was on purpose. Turning herself over to him, she wrapped her arms around his waist.
It took her a bit to relax, going from stranglehold to trust as he told her to lean into the curves with him, instead of against him. Ten minutes into the ride, she was willing to go across country with him. He drove as he did everything else, half with a stubborn determination and the other half practiced ease.
He wasn’t a reckless driver, whether that was for her benefit or not, she chose to believe the former. There was a bite to the air as he accelerated his way onto the Bay Bridge and navigated weekend traffic.
Instead of going across the bridge to Oakland, he curled around to Treasure Island. She’d lived in San Francisco for years, but she’d never taken the time to visit the coastal areas much beyond the pier. She just assumed they were tourist traps or areas she’d get to eventually. Signs for Yerba Buena flashed by.
The water below them was choppy with the wind, but the bay was protected from the truly tumultuous waters of the ocean. Instead of pulling off into the populated areas that were starting to light up as twilight eased in like fog, he climbed a winding road, stopping in the middle of nowhere.
“Is this where they’re going to find my body?” she asked when he turned off the engine.
He unlatched his helmet and strapped it to the bike. “Maybe.”
Amused at his mood, she slid off the bike and right into him. “Whoa.”
He laughed and caught her close. “Gotta get your land legs back.”
“That was amazing. I’ve been on a motorcycle before, but nothing like this one. It’s so…” She didn’t have the words for the freedom she’d felt, nor for the comfort and buzzy attraction that seemed to collide whenever she touched him. She wanted more. Reaching up, she pulled him down, sliding her fingers under his jacket to the rough-hewn cotton of his thermal shirt.
The kiss was just as wild and sweet as the ride, his fingers digging into her hips as the heat flooded between them. He jerked his mouth away from her. “Jesus,” he said, pressing his forehead against hers. “I honestly didn’t take you into the middle of nowhere just to make out.”
She laughed, stepping back from him. “Too bad.”
He disengaged the locks on the saddlebags, pulling out a heavy blanket from one side and another, lighter throw from the other side. He held out his hand. “C’mon, let me show you what we actually came here for.”
“Where are we?”
“We’re up near this bluff I found riding around a few summers ago. Wait until you see the view.” He headed for an old footpath, picking his way up a trail that didn’t seem to exist to anyone but Nate.
Thanking her days of Pilates, she kept up with him as they kept going higher and deeper into the brush. “How on earth did you find this? We’re in the middle of…” She lost her breath as the trees parted and all of San Francisco stretched out before her. The lights from the Bay Bridge glowed bright and strong, leaving the rest of the world in shadow. The water looked as if it were glass from their height and the messy, amazing city she lived in looked like a twinkling bit of perfection.
“See, I told you I found the perfect spot.” He snapped out the heavier blanket, then stood behind her. “I was hiking with a friend of mine.”
“Girlfriend?” she heard herself ask, and could have sliced her own tongue out.
“No, not a girlfriend,” he said into her ear.
His hands slid up and down on her hips, down to the tops of her thighs with the span of his fingers then back. Soothing…warming. Carefully she eased back against him. They watched as the sun disappeared, as twilight blanketed the sky and finally left behind only stars. “Wow,” she sighed.
“I knew this was the perfect place for you.” His voice, that husky baritone, rumbled through her jacket as his arms came up to hold her closer. He cupped her shoulders in a crisscrossing hug, holding her back to his front. The scruff of his cheek brushing along her temple created the most amazing little nook for her. She’d never felt more comfortable or aware of a man in her life.
“Nate?”
“Hmm,” he said with more of a rumble than words.
She slipped her hand over his forearm, squeezing lightly. “Thank you.”
He pressed a kiss to her temple, then to the shell of her ear, nuzzling gently. “Tell me about Miranda Woods,” he said softly.
What did he want to know? He’d been pushing for more for days now. “Miranda is boring.”
He kept his hug nonintrusive, simply let her feel him around her. “Miranda is anything but boring. Why do you smell like the beach when I’ve never heard you talk about the water?”
Disconcerted, she looked up at him. The shadows were too deep t
o see what was going on behind his eyes. She did see a flash of his crooked smile just before he pressed a light kiss to her lips.
“I like the simple scent of cocoa butter and it makes me feel soft, even when I’m not allowed to be.” Surprised, she wanted to snatch the words back. The dark was a bad place to talk. It gave a false sense of security.
“Because your job is considered part of a man’s world?”
“No, because I have people to worry about. I’m running a business that could tank any time.” Even with her grandmother’s money sitting there, taunting her, she could still go belly-up any day.
His nose brushed along the line of her jaw near her ear. “Who worries about you?”
“I—” She swallowed, not sure what to say. “Max, Ryleigh and Leo worry all the time. That’s how you happened actually.”
“Well, I do have your address. I guess I should send thank-you baskets to all of them.”
She lifted her shoulders up as his voice buzzed in her ear, tickling and hot on her skin. “You’re such a smart-ass.”
He dug in deeper with his scruffy chin until she laughed. “I’ve been trying to get your attention for what feels like forever.”
“Evidently a bar and a plaid shirt were all you needed.” She hissed when his lips found a spot she had no idea she had before Nate.
“Did you come over to me because of that shirt? Because if that’s the case, I’m wearing it every day.”
He focused on that slice of skin behind her ear until she was nearly mindless with it. Had he asked her a question? Her head fell forward as he sipped and kissed.
“Miranda,” he said close to her ear. “Was it the shirt?”
“No.” She closed her eyes, bowing against his touch. “Forearms,” she said absently. “Oh God.” She shivered. “Again.” He licked her, flicked her and when his teeth helped out she groaned.
“My forearms?” His voice was barely discernible over the buzzing in her head.
She didn’t care what state secrets she gave up, just as long as he did that thing with his mouth again. “Yes, and your shoulders. Wide, amazing shoulders. Safe shoulders…” She trailed off, whimpering when he followed up the swipe of his tongue with a sharp tug of his teeth along her ear. “And your mouth.” She groaned as she brushed her ass along the bulging zipper behind her. Her hands fell to his thighs, her fingers digging into the muscle there.
He pushed her hair out of the way, pulling back her jacket to taste more. It was a beautiful night and the lure of his tongue, those teeth and him touching her was too much to ignore. She wriggled until she heard him groan in response. “You’re killing me here.”
“Jacket off,” she said and wiggled again.
He opened his arms enough for her to shrug it off and she giggled when he hauled her back, just as quick. The laughter quickly dissolved to sighs when he traced the line of her t-shirt. One of his hands slid down to her waist and the other started tugging at the neckline for more. “I can’t ever get enough of your taste,” he said against her ear.
She turned in his arms, tired of the passive role she was playing. Winding her arms around his neck, she nipped his jaw. “Keep tasting,” she said softly. “Taste everywhere, Nate.” Finally his mouth was on hers. She could feel his resistance. “Everywhere,” she said against his mouth, and was rewarded with instant participation.
He slid his fingers down into the back pockets of her jeans, molding her ass as he dragged her against him. His thigh slid between hers as his erection dug into her hip. The need was climbing in direct relation to how fast she could get her hands into his hair. His tongue was still lazy; even though the rest of him seemed to be advancing, he kept the kiss gentle and so thorough she couldn’t hope to breathe through it.
“I’m not stopping.” His eyes glittered in the dim light of the stars and a half moon. “If we do this again there’s no holding back. No tensing up when we’re done.” He kissed her thoroughly until she was certain her brain was going to melt right out of her ears. “No regrets. You’re going to be with me because you want it as badly as I do. I want all of you tonight.”
Chapter Nine
Nate forced himself to stop, to really look at her. His eyes had adjusted to the dark. He could feel the uncertainty in her under the attraction. He didn’t want a repeat of the last time they’d been together. He wanted her for her, not for an escape from the day or the loneliness. He wanted Miranda. He wanted to make sure she was on the same page.
He wanted a future, but he knew that part of the discovery was honesty. Tricking her into fessing up to what was rapidly growing between them wasn’t going to do either of them any good. They laughed over her gadget room, fooled around with marketing concepts for his invention. Hell, he even found himself working on new ideas during the few days they didn’t spend together.
But it was getting harder to stop himself from pushing her for more information, to draw her out and learn what made her tick besides work. And of course touching her was easy—stopping was hard.
She looked up at him. “You scare the hell out of me.”
“Good,” he leaned down until they were eye to eye, “that’s the first honest thing you’ve said to me.” When she stiffened in his arms again, he soothed her with a kiss that wasn’t about heat. “If it was easy, it just wouldn’t matter.”
When she lifted on her toes until their lips lined up, he filled his hands with the curve of her backside, letting her feel just how much he wanted her. Getting to know her was a challenge, but keeping himself in check was equally important. It seemed as if the minute he touched her, he lost all restraint.
She pushed at his jacket, her nails sharp through his shirt as she coasted down to his pants. He hissed as nimble fingers made quick work of his buckle while he struggled to get his arms free. She palmed him, wrapping her cool fingers around the base of him until he filled her hand. She nipped his chin, then unerringly, his nipple through cotton, the kiss of the night breeze snaking up his belly along with his shirt.
“Miranda,” he said with gritted teeth. Watching as she lowered herself to her knees nearly broke him. When her lips surrounded him, he lost the will to fight it. Her tongue cupped around his length until there was nothing but her heat. She sucked gently at first, then with more power. As the head of his cock bumped the back of her throat, he groaned, his head tipped back to stare at the star-studded sky. She drove him to the edge with little effort. He’d already been hot for her from the bike ride, but this?
His cock slid between her lips again and again, her tongue flicking the underside of his head with each tandem stroke of her hand and mouth. His fingers tangled in her hair of their own volition, guiding her. And when she looked up at him, the glittering city as her backdrop and her face half in shadow, he fought the urge to come. “Miranda,” he panted. But she only increased her pace, her knuckles brushing over his sac and under, cupping him in a deft palm.
Tugging on the back of her hair was the only urging he was capable of. He hoped to God it was obvious where this was going. She shook her head, the flat of her palm pressing on his lower belly, her nails scoring through the hair there. The suction along with her soft, sure hands twisting—he was lost. His throat burned with the coarse cry she dragged from him.
She didn’t flinch, she didn’t shy away. The moonlight glinted off the curve of her cheek as she swallowed everything he had to offer. And when she rocked back on her heels, she swiped her tongue along her lower lip as if savoring the last of him. He dropped to his knees in front of her, gathering her in. She tucked her chin into his neck. “I’m not done with you,” she whispered. Pushing him back onto the blanket, she settled herself on his thighs. “Jeans may be my new favorite item of clothing.”
She flipped the flimsy t-shirt over her head. Dark lace cupped her palm-sized breasts, lifting them high. Her hips did a slow roll. “The seam of these jeans,” she shuddered above him and he took his cue. He wanted flesh, wanted to feel all that liquid silk flowing between
his fingers. He dug deeper, pressed harder. “God, Nate.”
He sat up, jerking the zipper free. He had to know just what the seams had done to her. Another layer of lace and finally he was able to bury his thumbs under the drenched hood that hid her clit. Her head tipped back, the trees cast shadows and moonlight along her shoulders and the tops of her breasts.
“Bra.” He rubbed on each side of the tight knot, not wanting to let go of her. “Off. Now!”
Her hands came up to cup herself and he gripped her hips, his fingers digging into the back of her jeans. The front clasp of her bra opened and the tips of her breasts were tight and high in the diffused light. Pressing his thumbs together to trap her clit, he rubbed and circled just right. He knew her body now, and could feel the tightness of her muscles, the shuddering squeak she let out only when she was in the middle of complete abandon. One hand turned to thrust two fingers inside her, to feel her constrict around him as she rode his hand.
Watching her come apart without the tension from their first time together fueled him. He sat up, plunging inside her again and again as she spasmed around him, bringing his thumb back to her clit in constant circles. She held on to him, her nails digging into his shoulders as their mouths locked through the end of her storm.
She buried her face into his neck, the shudders dissolving into sweet gulps of air. Gathering her into him, he felt her breath fan onto his chest. Here, this moment, was what he’d wanted that first night. Experiencing anything that profound deserved a chance to move beyond just the physical connection.
Reaching back, he snagged his jacket, draping it over her shoulders.
“Thank you.” Her voice was soft and unsure. But instead of stiffening up, she hooked her arms under his shirt and up his back.
He flinched at the chill of her fingers, but they warmed quickly against his skin. It was certainly a small sacrifice to pay to have her touch him so easily.
“I wanted you, Nate. I still want you.” Her voice was soft against his neck. “I want you to come home with me.” Her fingers traced along his back. “I want you in a bed, all over me, inside me until the sun rises.”
