Dakota compulsively blew on her tea once Bo disappeared into the bathroom. Being so near to him ratcheted up her nerves in a way she couldn’t quite understand. Somewhere between anxiety and a high school crush. This guy was bad…badder than anyone she’d ever met. So why was it also so hot to see the holster of his gun peeking out of the back of his pants when he strutted into the bathroom? That should make her worry, not feel titillated.
Bo was bad. She’d do well to remember that too, especially now that he’d be here for an unexpected sleepover.
The bathroom door creaked open and she jumped. Bo poked his head out, grinning like a devil.
“Hey, can you help me turn the shower on?”
She arched a brow. “Seriously?”
He opened the door, revealing his glorious torso. He clutched the tiny guest towel around his waist, the slit of the towel revealing muscled thighs. Her breath evaporated and she walked to the bathroom, averting her gaze. Look away. Be strong.
“It’s a new shower,” he said, stepping aside so she could enter. “There’s a learning curve.” In the tiny square of space in the bathroom, his energy loomed potent and more powerful than ever. She almost wilted before him, under the heat of his gaze.
“It’s cute how you act dumb just so I’ll come help you,” she said, reaching into the shower to snap the water on. It really was a little confusing—maybe he’d been asking seriously. But it reeked of a ploy he had no problem playing up.
“Jeez,” he said, but the smirk betrayed his amusement. “Tough crowd.”
She tested the water, forcing her gaze from sliding back to the flat plane of his chest. “Do you like the water warm or hot?”
“Mmm,” he tilted his head as he thought. “Hot.”
She blushed, hoping he didn’t notice, and adjusted the center knob. “Okay. That should do it.”
“Thanks, Dakota.” His voice was silky smooth, setting her skin on fire. She steeled herself to meet his gaze and looked up at him, bowled over by the masculinity radiating off of him, the intense heat of him, the boyish edge to his grin.
“Well, enjoy your shower.”
“Oh, I will.” He grinned, and she couldn’t force herself to exit the bathroom. Like his eyes were magnet, and her body was pure ferrite. “Would you like to join?”
She tried to laugh but it sounded forced. I want to join more than anything else in the world. Her nipples hardened to two tight points and she was grateful for the extra padding of her bra to hide it from him. Surely he’d use that information to his advantage.
“I’ll wait until you’re done,” she said.
“What a shame.” The corner of his mouth turned up and then he dropped his towel. It crumpled around his feet and her heart raced as she forced herself to hold his gaze. Bo, you’re too good at this. How am I supposed to resist you? She forced a grin and turned to leave, but not before her gaze flitted southward, just for the quickest glance.
She hurried out of the bathroom and shut the door behind her, heart pounding in her ears. She held the knob for a few moments, half-expecting him to come out after her, but when he started humming she knew the danger had passed. He was in the shower, and she was safe against his insane sexual energy.
But for how long? The man was a god—there was no other way to put it. His body looked like he spent hours at the gym, with rolling hills for biceps and the tight squares of a six-pack. And between the legs, even limp, he had a cock that made her whimper. Tightly controlled scruff around the base, heavy balls that screamed manliness.
He made her drool, and made her want to see how those arms might feel squeezing tight around her. She’d already felt the hardness of his torso in her arms, and hell if that didn’t make her thighs clench around the seat like a vice grip.
Fuck, Bo. Her pussy pulsed just thinking about it and she shook her head, taking a sip of scorching hot tea. She swore, sitting the mug down, resorting to pacing the living room. Each second stretched past like an hour. Could she concoct some emergency need to take her into the bathroom? Going in there was a bad idea—it was the worst idea—but damnit, she wanted to. Especially since she was positive Bo would lead things exactly to that outcome she desperately wanted to indulge.
The water snapped off after an excruciatingly long time. Oh, to be the bar of soap in her shower. Tripping over the ridges of those abs…exploring the fascinating arcs of his ass and arms…
She jumped when the door creaked open. She hurried back to the mug, trying to look natural. “Everything okay in there?”
“Oh yeah. It just got a little steamy in here.” He laughed. “Thinking about you.”
She bit at her palm, trying to squelch the girlish squeal that threatened to escape. Motherfucker knew how to press buttons and get what he wanted. This had to be a sport for him.
“Too bad for you those will only be fantasies.” Hotness aside, Bo wasn’t the type of guy to get involved with. Not even for a more-than-likely incredibly satisfying one night stand. “I’m sure you have plenty of women in line to service you in whatever way you need, so…contact one of them.”
“Yeah, but none of them are you.”
The door opened and he strutted out of the bathroom, towel around his waist. The curve of his calves yanked at her attention, forcing her to set the mug down. One time couldn’t hurt. It had been so lonely getting acclimated to a new place—she deserved a hot night of passion. Stop it, Dakota. “Too bad.”
He grinned, running a hand through his damp hair. It stuck up at funny angles and she smirked. She could almost, almost imagine him as just a regular guy. Not the half-cocked hellion gang member he’d proven himself to be over the past couple of hours. And part of her was intensely curious to know more about him, even though everything in her told her to stay away.
“You should put clothes on,” she said, sipping at her tea.
“Why, are you tired of ogling me already?”
She laughed. “It would be a shame if you spilled your tea and burnt yourself.” She paused, waiting for the right timing. “Don’t want another burnt angel today.”
He snagged her gaze, the smile on his face making her knees go weak. “All right. Your house, your rules.” He sauntered back into the bathroom and came out a moment later in his pants. He came to the countertop again, foregoing the shirt.
“It’s still drying,” he said, cupping the mug. Like he could hear her thoughts.
“Right.” She acknowledged her own discomfort in damp clothes, and craved a shower too, but what if he somehow conned himself into the bathroom with her? She might not be able to stop her fingers from dragging over the divine arcs and dips of his body. From tracing the fascinating lines of his art. From smoothing over the damnably tempting tuft of hair leading down from his belly button.
“So. What should we do for the sleepover? Got any ideas?”
A few. Most involving sweaty friction and screams of pleasure. “Eh, I was thinking I could paint your nails. Do your hair. Put in some braids right around here.” She motioned toward the longer part of his hair in front, where it was drying into waves. “Get that rock-solid biker look going.”
He cracked a grin. “I’d let you.”
She arched brow. “Really?”
“For a price.” He shrugged, sipping at the tea. “Maybe you can guess what that is.”
A long sigh escaped her. “Yes, Bo, I’m sure it has something to do with sex. So no, if that’s the price, we won’t be painting your nails.”
He looked pleased with himself. “I’m just saying, we can if you want to.”
She rolled her eyes, heading to the couch. She settled into the corner and reached for the remote. “Want to watch some TV?”
He came to the couch as well, sitting on the far edge, like showing her how he could be a normal human being. Or maybe that was just her wishful thinking. “Whatever. It’s your place, darlin’.”
“Yours now too, apparently.” She scrolled through the guide channel, flipping over all the useless sports channels and paid movie options. Her phone dinged quietly on the arm rest of the couch—Red had been sending messages, asking if she was all right, begging her to please reconsider quitting. She wouldn’t be answering those texts—not past the perfunctory “I’m home” message she’d sent. She needed time to figure out how she felt about Ink Works. Besides, Bo was enough of a distraction right now. He snorted as she scrolled through the porn section.
“Busty Biker Babes Volume 18,” he said, sipping at the tea like a goddamn mirage at the end of her couch. He’d literally killed a man only hours before, and now he was shirtless in her apartment drinking rooibos. Something had gone seriously awry with the planets if this was now her reality.
“I bet you have experience with busty biker babes,” she mused, paging up to find the normal channels. “Aren’t you surrounded by pussy all the time?”
“If I wanna be, yeah.” His voice held a sexy edge to it, one that made her heart race. “Some girls like the biker thing. Can’t hold it against them.”
“Not all of them,” she said, glancing over at him.
“Yeah, the ones that aren’t into it are my favorite.” He grinned, the square of his jaw snagging her gaze. “I’ve always been partial to tatted ladies…pin-up girls…that kind.”
So exactly her. “Ah.” She struggled to measure the space between words, so he didn’t catch that she was flustered. “You certainly weren’t a fan of them earlier today when you found out Tony was gone.”
“Yeah, but that was different.” He reached out to touch her ankle, where her feet were tucked off to the side. The brush of his fingers against her skin made her inhale sharply. Bad sign. “I was pissed about something else. I wasn’t thinkin’ right.”
“Wow. A perceptive biker.” She snorted, settling on her favorite cheesy comedy—Vacation. She set the remote down on the end table. “Not what I expected.”
“You don’t know anything about bikers,” he said, stretching his legs out. “So I’m not surprised.”
Zing. He had a point. “Well I guess this is the education I never asked for.”
He smirked and shook his head, but didn’t say anything more. They settled in to watch the movie, but Dakota could hardly concentrate, not with his heat so near, and that fiery skin begging to be touched.
***
Bo awoke the next morning, his cheek mashed into the couch cushion. For being a piece of shit, it was surprisingly comfortable. At least enough to get him through while he hid out. He and Dakota had whiled away the night between movies and conversation, carefully executed jabs masking as a strange breed of getting to know each other.
Her curiosity was palpable, hung in the air between them like knives at the ready. And he was curious too; except that he had no problem openly admitting he was more than ready to bend her over the back of the couch the second she’d agree to it.
Sunlight streamed through the white plastic blinds covering the only window in the living room. This place was spartan as fuck, and already he was itching to help her improve it. She deserved that, at least, even if she was planning on leaving. Something to make it feel less dreary.
He rolled onto his back, looking up at the stained ceiling. The marks looked like an ink blot test, and after enough staring he could make out a few images—clouds, for sure, but also a penguin. And maybe a mountain landscape.
He sighed, pushing himself up, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. The apartment looked different bathed in the bright light of day, like maybe he’d woken up someplace new. He heard her stir inside her bedroom and stretched, yawning. Time to get a start on the day. See what sort of shit he could accomplish while holed up here.
He scratched at his chest as he padded over to the kitchen counter, reaching for his phone. A few texts from his brothers awaited him, nothing important. He typed out an update to Turbo, asking if there was any movement. He went into the bathroom to splash water on his face and when he came out, Dakota was in the kitchen in an over-sized t-shirt.
The sight of her was a punch in the gut. His mouth parted and he couldn’t force his gaze away from the sexy curves of her legs. The shirt ended at mid-thigh, and her breasts were suggestive rounds under the fabric of the shirt. She waved and yawned.
“You sleep okay?” She went behind the counter to fill the teapot. He nodded, easing onto the stool, adjusting his hardening cock in his pants. Fuck, he wanted her—way more than what was even reasonable.
“Had some fucked-up dreams, but that’s normal,” he said, running his hands through his hair. “I checked with my guys to see if it’s safe to go. I’ll let you know when they write back.”
She nodded, her gaze lingering on him. “No problem. You hungry?”
He nodded, patting his belly. “Whatcha got?”
She smiled softly, like maybe she enjoyed this as much as he did. Even though the circumstances were strange…this had been kinda nice. It would be a nice memory. “What do you normally eat? You look like a guy who has protein shakes and three avocados for breakfast.”
He laughed. “You might be right.”
Her eyes widened. “Really? Bikers eat avocados?”
“Darlin’, you gotta move past the stereotype. Bikers eat whatever they damn well please.”
She sighed, nodding. “You’re right. Sorry.” She tugged open the fridge. “Well I definitely don’t have protein shakes. But I have toast, and plenty of avocados. Hell, we could sprinkle some flax on it.” She looked to him to confirm his interest.
He nodded. “Sounds awesome.”
She smiled, arranging the bag of bread and some avocados on the counter between them. “I have to say, it’s exciting when someone wants to eat avocados with me.”
“You a fan?”
“I would bathe in them if it were socially acceptable.”
He shrugged, reaching for the knife she set down. “I wouldn’t say anything if you wanted to do it right now.”
She laughed. “You wouldn’t have much of a problem with anything I wanted to do, would you?”
He shook his head, meeting her sparkling hazel eyes. “Nah.”
They shared a private look, one that made his belly flop. He reached for an avocado and sliced it open, deftly removing the pit. She arched a brow.
“Don’t even say it,” he warned, unable to fight the grin. “You didn’t expect bikers to know how to use a knife.”
Her tongue pushed into the inside of her cheek. “Maybe.” She popped four slices of bread into the toaster and pushed the level down. He watched her, knife poised in his grip, unable to look away.
“You look different without all the makeup,” he said softly. As soon as the words were out he tutted, cursing himself. What woman wanted to hear that? “I mean, it’s good. Don’t get me wrong.”
Her cheeks flushed, which made his belly flop again. “I hope so. It’s my real face. The only one I’ve got.”
“It’s a good one.” He winked at her. “You should keep it.”
“Was planning on it.” She reached for some glasses, grabbing a jug of filtered water from the fridge. “You want?”
He nodded, feeling really good here. This was a sweet, simple morning. One that made something foreign and welcome blossom inside. Water whooshed as she poured two glasses, and then the toast popped. She divvied up two slices per plate and pushed one to him. “Let’s eat.”
They took turns slathering avocado all over the bread, giggling like kid intermittently when they fought over the knife when one took too long. Bo sprinkled flax on top with a flourish, then grinned as he crunched into his first bite. They watched each other as they ate, a quiet comfort.
“This is good,” Dakota said.
“The best.” He nodded toward her bedroom door, where he’d noticed a bar hung near the top. “You ever use that bar?”
“What bar?”
He pointed. “You’ve got a chin-up bar installed there.”
She squinted at it, like seeing it for the first time. “Oh. Since when?”
He laughed. “Probably the last guys left it. Who knows.”
“It’s a chin-up bar?”
“Mm-hmm.” He swallowed and wiped at his mouth. “Can I use it?”
She shrugged. “Whatever. As long as it doesn’t break.”
“I’ll test it out later.” He winked, crunching into another bite. His phone dinged at the same time and he fished it out, finding a message from Turbo.
Stay wherever you are. Had a drive-by at headquarters today already. DS is hot on trail.
He sighed tersely, tossing the phone onto the counter. “Bad news.”
“What is it?”
“I need to stay longer.”
Her eyes rounded. “Seriously?”
He nodded, avoiding her gaze. “Yeah. ‘Fraid so. Those guys are waiting for me to show up. Causing trouble at the clubhouse.”
She drummed her fingertips against the counter, staring at her toast. “I mean, sure. If you think it’s safe here.”
“I’ll repay you. I promise.” He reached for her wrist, and she yanked her gaze up to his, surprise streaking her face. Whenever their skin met, it was electric. From somewhere else, the undertones of voices drifted through the apartment. Bo creased his brow. It sounded like yelling—or maybe moaning. “What’s that?”
She sighed. “The neighbors. They get…boisterous.”
Bo squinted at the wall. It was definitely moaning. “Do they do this all the time?”
“Often enough.”
“Well listen. I’ll pay for groceries,” he said, “And whatever you need around the house. Insulation for the walls? I’ll order stuff right now. Whatever you want.”
She softened. Maybe she was strapped for cash, or just touched by the offer. Wherever it resonated inside her, it worked. “That would be nice.”
“And let me buy you something nice for the apartment, too.” He slid his hand back, smoothing his palm over the counter. “This place needs some love, darlin’. I can help.”
“What are you, an interior designer?”
“Hell no. But damn, let’s get a bookcase in here. Curtains. Something.”
“I told you I was moving.”
“Right, but you haven’t moved yet.” He leveled her with a look. “Come on. You’re letting me stay here. I’ll build you a bookcase and we call it even?”
“You’ll build me one?”
He shrugged. “Why not? Can’t really teleport one so I guess I have to build one.”
She bit her lip and grinned, a dimple flourishing. His belly flopped again and his fingers twitched as he thought about touching her, just smoothing a fingertip over that cute little cheek of hers.
“You do whatever you want,” she said. “I can’t stop you if you order groceries.”
Bo reached for his phone but hesitated. Ordering groceries was a thing that existed, but he’d never done it before. He’d never needed to, not while living at the clubhouse. “You got an app or something for it?”
She burst out laughing and got her phone. “Let me help you.” She pulled up an app and swiped through some screens, then leaned over the counter to show him. “Here. This is the grocery store about a mile down the road. I used to use this all the time in Vegas. Just order what you want and we’ll figure out the payment at the end.”
“You came from Vegas?”
She nodded, tucking some hair behind her ears. “Why?”
He looked her up and down. “Why’d you wanna come to L.A., then?”
“It’s complicated.”
“Tell me.”
She narrowed her eyes. “I don’t need to tell you shit.”
He raised his hands in mock defense. “Sorry. Just trying to get to know you.” He took her phone, scrolling through the options, squinting at the screen. Dakota could be barbed wire, and he would do well to remember that. Even though he wanted to push past all those defenses and find that sweet core he’d been lucky to glimpse a couple of times already.
Dakota nibbled on her toast as he shopped on her phone. After a few minutes of selections—toothbrush, more toothpaste, toilet paper, five pounds of avocados, and free range chicken eggs among other things—he passed her the phone. “Make it so I can pay in cash.”
Her eyes widened at the total. “You have this much in cash on you?”
“Yeah, why?”
She let a low whistle. “Okay, Bo. Whatever you say. This sleepover party is about to get crunk.”
He chewed on the rest of his toast, loving her mussy hair, her soft, natural face, the sharp blue eyes that snagged him like a fishing hook whenever he caught them. “If you’re lucky, I’ll let you braid my hair tonight.”