Rider was dipping me, old Hollywood style again, and he called me Gorgeous when he saw me. Seeing him again after thinking about him non-stop for a couple days, he didn’t look so bad in these biker clothes after all. He looked damn good, actually.

I’d been in the bar not too long when he’d swooped in and dipped me again.

His jeans tonight were darker. A little frayed in places, but they fit him well. Too well. He had on a motorcycle club vest over a grey Henley. His biceps and shoulders looked particularly defined. He wasn’t wearing his fawn-colored cowboy boots. Instead, he had on black motorcycle boots with gunmetal hooks for his laces and buckles at the ankles.

His eyes seemed even more piercing. And his hair again looked and smelled great. And the lips? Just as pillowy-looking as I remembered. He took no time getting me into a clinch. I threaded my fingers into his hair. He did the same into mine, but a bit roughly as he kissed me.

He looked at me with sparkling eyes and walked me to the bar.

And then he took very little time to etch my name into his dance-with-no-pants card that night.

“I’ve been thinking about you non-stop since the other night,” he whispered in my ear. “Thinkin’ I got a taste for some more lollipop.”

“Hm. Yet, you didn’t call?” I challenged, taking a mouthful of my beer but doing it sort of seductively, guiding it to my lips with my tongue.

He smirked. "I lost your number, Starlet. Sad but true. Real happy you turned back up here tonight. Were you lookin’ for me?”

"Starlet?”

“Yeah, you’re as gorgeous as a movie star. You lookin’ for me, babe?”

“No, but it’s been a nice side-effect.” I didn’t bother pointing out that he’d put my number into his phone, so I wasn’t sure how he could’ve lost it.

He smiled, “Yeah? How ‘bout I take you home tonight? You got your own place?”

I was pretty sure I’d told him I did. Despite my being hammered, I actually remembered it specifically. Maybe he was as drunk as I was. The alternative, that our conversation and moreover, our kissing, wasn’t memorable enough was something I refused to consider. Well, I was trying to stop myself from considering it…

“Mm, maybe.”

“Then maybe we should go there.” He moved in and bit me where my neck met my shoulder.

“Ouch,” I shivered, “Hungry much?” That was sort of sexy but it also sort of stung.

“Starved,” he replied huskily and kissed the spot he bit.

“How about we close this joint and see how hungry you are then?” I teased.

“Deal. Only if you can handle feeding an extremely famished man. But fair warning, if I’m starvin’ now, I could be hard to handle in a couple hours.” He nuzzled his nose behind my ear and then his tongue was in my ear.

Whoa. I felt that right between my legs. That tongue swirl showed some dexterity.

“Oh, I think I can handle it,” I said, with confidence. “But starving or not, that doesn’t mean you’re gonna close the deal tonight, there, handsome.”

“We’ll see. I can be pretty irresistible,” he warned.

That was usually my line. But it wasn’t something I usually said aloud.

Ella re-joined us, looking really freaked out.  She’d been hauled away by Rider’s brother, who was also smokin’ smoking hot. Turned out, we were swooning over brothers.

Rider’s brother Deacon was the one who rescued her from the Circle J armed robbery the night before. Ella and I’d already had a quiet moment in the ladies’ room where she confided that she’d stressed about the fact that my biker might’ve been the same guy who’d rescued her, and she was worried that we were both in lust with the same guy. 

I’d joked that if we both married our bikers we’d wind up sisters. She’d been like a sister to me almost all my life anyway.

Deacon had proven himself chivalrous. In addition to saving her the night before, he also chased off Ella’s ex, Jay, who was sort of being stalker-weird at that bar that night. Jay had come in after our pow wow that morning and overheard Pippa on the phone with her boyfriend Joe, telling him about our plans, so I was icked-out by him showing up that night at Deke’s Roadhouse.

Rider’s other brother Spencer was also present, and he was also a hottie. He had a John Mayer vibe goin’ on. Pouty mouth. Chin cleft. Short at the sides and floppy on top pompadour hairstyle. But, after less than five minutes in his presence, my alpha-hole radar started going off. He was definitely at little bit of an alpha-hole.

He was drunk when we got here, and he’d been undressing Ella with his eyes ever since. Deacon looked like he was itching to punch Spencer in the mouth.

Ella’s dad’s band was performing at the bar that night and they started playing Journey’s Open Arms. Turned out Rider’s father was owner of the bar, and the Valentine brothers also owned the adjacent two businesses. And, Rider’s father was President of this new chapter of the Dominion Brotherhood MC.

I loved this song. I made a swoony face, I guess, because Rider took the hint, grabbed my hand and took me to the dance floor and he was light and smooth on his feet.

Wow.

I took dance lessons from age 3 until I was 14 and hadn’t had a non-professional dance partner as smooth as him…ever. He might have even rivaled some of the professional partners.

I was feeling a little bit tipsy. And more than a little bit lightheaded at being in his arms. Rider was tall and lean, but he had muscle. Broad shoulders, a tight stomach.  A super-tight ass. I felt safe. I really liked that feeling.

But then I felt something weird in the pit of my stomach as he spun and twirled me around, singing in my ear. There was a sharp tugging, pulling inside of me. I know we’d only just met so the song he was singing, he was just singing, it’s not like he was singing it to me as if to say he felt about me the way Steve Perry felt in that song.

But then, he kissed me, and it felt like… like no kiss I’d ever felt. It felt like he was it for me. The room was spinning, but we were still. We were the only solid thing in that place. He felt like the one. The one me, Ella, and her gran talked about. The man that was perfectly designed for me. The only man that could make me feel like there was a possibility of happiness with one other person for the rest of my life.

It was silly to feel like this so soon after meeting a guy who wasn’t even my type and I was a little freaked out, but a whole lot something else… 

Ella’s grandmother, Gran Izzy, had set the bar high with us since we were little, telling us it was better to be alone than be with a man who didn’t deserve us. Could this beautiful biker in front of me deserve me? Or, was he just a charmer? Was I just ready for something real and wanting it so badly that I was trying to make it so?

We made out on the dance floor so hot and heavy that we heard whistles and catcalls afterwards. The music had long stopped and there were a lot of eyes on us.

“I’m taking you home,” he said against my mouth.

I nodded. I was a little dizzy. I needed to lay down. With him on top of me.

“I need your hot body naked against me. Can’t wait for last call.”

I nodded again, enthusiastically. He also had mindreading talents, evidently.

“Pippa, take care of Ella,” I said, passing her on our way out. “See you later. Going back to our place. Put Ella on the couch. Get her blankets?” If Ella got smashed, she’d fall asleep anywhere. She’d need someone’s help getting to the couch.

Even drunk, Pippa was an expert at taking care of drunk people; almost as much as Sober Ella. I should know; as my roommate, she’d had to take care of my inebriated ass many times.

She saluted me. We got outside, I was nearly jogging behind him to keep up, and then I saw a small crowd gathered, watching something. Was there a fight? 

Oh. Nope.

It was a rare Ella Show. Ella kicked her foot high and her shoe sailed across the parking lot and landed on the windshield of her dad’s truck.

Damn. I hated missing an Ella Show. She was my sensible bestie, but on the rare occasion she let her hair down, it was always entertaining.  Rider was leading me in the other direction, and as much as I loved an Ella Show, I had one purpose. I was all about getting alone and naked underneath this beautiful biker. He flagged someone over. Two bikers followed us. Rider tossed his keys high and a dark haired super-sexy biker caught them.

Where the fudge did all these hot bikers come from?

He opened a car door and hit the thing that made the front seat fold over and waved me in.

One biker got in the front and Rider and I climbed in back. The other biker got into a car beside the muscle car.

“What’s happening?” I inquired.

“Jesse’s gettin’ us home. Mick’s followin’ in his car to take Jess back, leaving my car for the morning.”

“Oh. You’re stayin’ all night, are you?” I asked, leaning into him.

“Gonna need all night for what I have planned for this beautiful body. These are our D.D’s for the night.”

“D.D’s?”

“We always have members on hand sober at a night like this. Sometimes I’m that sober one. That usually sucks.”

“I bet.” I leaned in toward him.

He met me half way and caught my lips with his and grabbed a handful of my hair to hold me to his mouth. My breath caught.

“Easy, there,” I extracted my hair from his hand. He was being quite passionate, but he’d pulled it a bit roughly.

“No way I’ll go easy on you,” he said, his mouth at my ear, “That’d be a fuckin’ waste of a night. A night where you’ve spent the whole night making promises to me.”

I giggled and started kissing him. His tongue was in my mouth and I was seriously horny. And drunk. And did I mention horny?

“I promised nothing…”

“With your words, no, but with your body language, with those bedroom eyes? Fuck yeah you did.” His thumb slid across my nipple.

And something about his seriousness turned my bones to water.

“Where we goin’, Ride?” The guy who was driving asked.

I called out my address and in no time at all, we were there. I was half way to climaxing by the time we were, though, because he had his hand in my shirt, he’d been rubbing me between my legs over my jeans, and I’d grabbed his package and gave it a squeeze.

“Ooh,” I said against his mouth as I squeezed. “This seems rather promising.”

“Fuck, yeah, gorgeous. I promise you won’t be disappointed.”

That was when I noticed we’d stopped. Home. Where the bed was. Yessss…

His hot biker buddy gave him keys and I fumbled to find mine. They exchanged looks and I caught a glimpse of something shiny pass between them. Did Rider just pass the other guy a gun? I did a double-take. Maybe that wasn’t a gun.

The two bikers left in the other car and I went to the back staircase. Rider following me.

“That was nice of them,” I pointed out, trying to decide whether or not to ask if that was a gun.

My salon, having the upstairs apartment, was in a free-standing building, but from the back there was an alley to the left that could take you to the front entrance and the space between buildings on the right was too small for even a person to fit through. I had a back roof terrace that overlooked the parking lot and there were rigged bridges on both sides from the roofs so that neighbors could easily travel from roof to roof. I had a back staircase from the parking lot up to my apartment. We could’ve also gone in from the front, as there was a door beside my salon’s storefront that had a tall staircase that led upstairs.

Before I could finish pondering about the gun, he started to kiss me. He kissed me all the way up the stairs. He was ridiculously good at kissing. I couldn’t stop touching his hair. I wanted him inside me. Badly.

The terrace was big, it had an overhang, and I often used it like a car-port. We’d had a party a  year or so back to coerce a bunch of friends and neighbors to lay patio stones on my section of it, but it didn’t have railings around 1/3 of the perimeter. My ex-boyfriend Ryan had been the one who’d gotten the project started, but hadn’t finished. He gave up putting effort into us (I was too high-maintenance. Whatever.) and on my deck, so there was still a stack of lattice and a bunch of lumber to go up. 

We had a patio with a chimenea and some Adirondack chairs around it. I had a little barbecue, too, and then a covered door that had trellis surrounding it, which I’d woven fairy lights and a fake (but pretty) zero maintenance ivy plant through. This led to my kick-ass kitchen and then we were in the hallway that led off the kitchen to the two bedrooms, the main bathroom, and then it opened up into my spacious living room, which had a wall of windows that overlooked the main street. My windows were covered with white sheers with jewel-toned polka dots on them. They were currently pulled back with sashes and you could see the traffic lights from the street below. My living room had white walls and white leather furniture with jewel toned throw pillows in turquoise, pink, and yellow. I had glass coffee and end tables. And a disco ball that hung from the ceiling.  My salon and apartment were between a bakery and a health food store. It smelled amazing in the mornings, when the baking got going, and every day I woke to the smell of baked goods.  It was a good thing that aroma didn’t have calories, or I’d be 600 pounds.

I had great neighbors, too, and we often cruised from roof to roof with drinks and appetizers, at night. Andie was generous with the baked goods. My neighbor on the other side, Lara and her husband Andre did amazing things with Triscuits and their toaster oven. I frequently handed out free booze and I had the kick-ass chimenea.

Rider and I were all over one another on the way to my bedroom, which was huge and kick-ass, done in champagne, peach, mauve, and teal with a big ensuite bathroom.

I couldn’t wait to feel him all over.

I had a fleeting thought, as we kissed our way into my bedroom, while I was undoing the third button on his shirt and scoring his chest with my nails as I did it hungrily, that I might slip out in the morning for warm croissants for breakfast for us. I had about a dozen jars of various jams in my fridge from a recent bake sale at Ella’s grandmother’s nursing home.  Did I have coffee? Probably. Milk? Hm. Maybe not. But, I had some French vanilla creamer. Or, I could dash to the coffee shop on the next block.

We were in my room. My room had a big bed with a ruffled white duvet that was ridiculously expensive. I didn’t sleep with it on, it was just for show, along with the dozen or so pillows that made it look like it was a set in a magazine shoot.

“One sec, I’ll get this off.”

I pulled away from him and started lifting my pillows up to put them on the trunk at the wall by my bed.

He let out a little growl and had my shirt and was pulling it over my head. “Let’s get this off. Then let’s get you off. Then me, off.” His lips vibrated against the back of my shoulder. “Then you again, huh?”

“One sec,” I giggled, glancing over my shoulder while trying to set my pillows nicely on the trunk. I was now in my bra, jeans, and high heels, and he was drinking me in with those gorgeous eyes, his front teeth rooted in his full bottom lip.

He spun me around, picked me up by the waist and tossed me onto the bed. He threw his shirt over his head and it landed behind him somewhere.

As I landed, I bounced, and it made me giggle.

“One sec, I just need to get this duvet off.” I tried to sit up.

“What?” He laughed, pinning me on my back, his mouth on my stomach, moving up as he worked my jeans buttons undone.

“My duvet has to come off. It’s white. Watch your boots.” I had a champagne-colored carpet and hoped his boots weren’t full of mud. Most people knew to take their shoes off at the door when they saw all my lush carpet coming in. But, his eyes had been on me, or closed, as we’d made out all the way in. I had a steam cleaner, so it was okay, if there wound up being mud.

He leaned back and looked at me like I was from outer space.

“One sec. Up!” I rolled off to the floor, landing softly on my knees, and then I waved him off the bed.

He stood up, his eyebrows furrowed as he scratched his chin. I pulled the bedspread over and over so that it was folded as I went and then set it down across my hope chest.

Underneath the duvet was a pale peachy-pink comforter that I actually used, and there were still six pillows on my California king-sized bed with the plush mauve heaboard. I grabbed him by his belt buckle and pulled him toward me.

“Fuck, babe,” he was rolling his eyes.

“Sorry, it’s like $1700 for that duvet. It’s just for show. We’re good. There. See?”

“You sure?” he asked, looking a little annoyed.

“Oh yeah,” I said, moving toward him. I pushed him back and climbed up.

He smiled as his head hit the pillows.

“Damn, your hair looks awesome on my pillow,” I said, and then I caught my first glimpse of his naked upper body.

Gulp.

I ran my hands up his chest. It was sexy. He had lots of ink on his muscular arms. Full sleeves up to his shoulders. Loads of tattoos. Letters, pictures, logos. His MC logo, his last name, black roses, an eagle. A really cool vintage-looking motorcycle. The tattoos were all black and grey and it was like a beautiful muted canvas. His chest had zero tatts. I ran my hands over his silky muscled hairless chest. His right nipple was pierced. Holy shit, that was hot. A silver ring was there.

I tongued it. He made a sexy man-moan that vibrated between my legs and then I was undoing his pants.

Commando. And wow.

When his dick was out, I just about choked on my tongue. Not only was it extra-thick, but it was also pierced, just below the head.

I ran my thumb over the two side-by-side silver studs. I looked up at his face. His eyes were looking smug. He put his hand behind his head.

“Like what you see, gorgeous?”

I’d never been with a guy who was pierced down there before. I stared at it a minute.

He also had a tattooed black shaded heart on his pelvis, to the right, a raised scar going through it and done up like an arrow, with the name Valentine in white tiny script.

“Appendix scar?” I asked.

“Mm hm,” he answered.

“I got one, too.” I informed him.

“Show me,” he commanded, huskily.

“In a minute,” I whispered, and my eyes moved back to his dick. Maybe I stared at it too long, because he flipped me and then I was on my back. I was still in my bra and my jeans and I still had stilettos on. I kicked them off and his hand went to my undone jeans. He pulled them down and off, leaving me in my demi cup red and black silky bra and red Spandex thong.

“Mm,” he said, looking at me. Tracing my scar with his index finger. And then his finger slid over to my panties. He kept going, pulling them down.  I was glad I’d gotten a Brazilian three days earlier.

He unhooked my bra, which hooked in the front and then his mouth was on a nipple.

“Very fucking nice,” he muttered against my boob and I threw my head back and absorbed the feel of his touch.

“Tell me what you want. What do you want?” he asked against my nipple.

“You. Inside me,” I whispered, loving the feel of his hair, woven in my fingers, all over my chest.

A growl rumbled up from his belly and his hands moved up and down my body as he tongued my nipple. His fingers went between my legs and then his other hand was reaching into his jeans pocket, producing a condom.

“Put that on me, gorgeous.”

He went back to work at my nipples with his mouth and my pussy with his fingers. I’d never put a condom on a guy before. I’d always thought of that as the guy’s department.

I fiddled with the wrapper until I got it open, having trouble focusing, because of what he was doing to me. And countless alcoholic beverages probably didn’t help.

The condom was sticky. I made a face. I rose on an elbow and he watched as I reached down and fumbled a little, or maybe a lot, because he finally… after what felt like forever… took it from me and finished getting it on.

I sighed in relief. He got poised at my entrance.

“You’re nice and wet.” He rubbed his dick along the seam of me, making eye contact that was super-duper sexy. “And this rubber is lubed, but I’m big. Gonna go slow for starters. You good?”

I nodded. “Good news. And yeah. I’m real good.”

He was working my clit with his fingers, as he moved slowly, advancing inside, and at the sight of his naked body looming over me, I was melting into the pillow.

His eyes traveled up and down my body and the look on his eyes was the most sensual expression I think I’d ever seen.

I was still feeling the effects of the booze and feeling in awe of the beauty hovering over me.  God, this biker was a sight to behold. All that hair, those soft lips, the sexy eyes, the muscles and tattoos, and holy… a peen piercing. Could this get any better?

It did get better. Oh God, he was thick.

I winced. He kept advancing slowly, carefully, rubbing my clit, turning me to nothing but a puddle of need as he sank inside and began to move. Slow. Deep. Eye contact.

Whoa…

I got the fastest and best orgasm of my life, the piercing rubbing inside me while his fingers were against my clit. If I wasn’t so hammered, I’d be embarrassed at how quick it happened.

“Fuck. Fuck, Rider, Fuck that’s… don’t stop.” I was typically mute during sex. It must be the booze. And the piercing. And the thickness. And the hip action.

“You like that?” he said into my ear, his voice low and husky and oh so sexy as his cock and fingers worked some sort of voodoo magic on my girlie bits.

My God. Every man needs a peen piercing because Oh My God. I had never asked for a guy to not stop. I typically didn’t make much noise during sex. Even when I came, it was usually quietly, a little gust of breath, maybe a bit of sound at the very end, but never had I ever been this verbal.

He surged forward in me, deep, so fucking deep, and he went faster and faster and harder as I was coming, and then he repositioned, and the sensation revved up. And he knew what he was doing. This was intentional, taking my orgasm from out-of-this-world to out-of-this-universe. I was coming in multiple places, because he also had my nipple between his thumb and index finger, and the way he was moving in and over me in deep strokes was rubbing my clit while also rubbing me inside with that piercing? Heaven.

I wrapped my legs tight around his thighs and let out a long and loud stuttered sound that I didn’t even think I was capable of. It almost sounded musical.  It was as if I was an opera singer and I’d just hit the highest note of my career.

And then I blanked out and was like a ragdoll. I was never so loose in my life.

“Phew,” I said and blew my hair out of my eyes. “Holy shit. Holy shit.”

He kept going. And then he flipped us so that he was on his back and I was riding him. But I was drunk, sated and boneless, and ruined, so I just kind of… flopped.

He started to grunt, like he was close. And then he grabbed my hair and was pulling it a little too hard as he ravished my neck with kisses and nibbles, and then bites.

I shivered.

He let go, flipped us so I was on my back, and then he grabbed the headboard and began ramming hard into me. Rutting. Like he was driven by carnal need and nothing else.

Wow, that was sexy.

He reached under me and then my right ass cheek was in his hand as he made me spread wider by using his knee to push my legs further apart.

I felt something foreign back there, right on my… asshole? My asshole? Wait…

I clenched my cheeks, “Nope, not that kinda girl. Not unless there’s a four-carat ring in it for me.” I giggled, thinking it was funny.

It was one of my ongoing sex jokes that anal required, at minimum, a 4-carat diamond. I swatted at his arm to get his hand away from there.

He grunted and didn’t laugh at my joke.

And then he flipped me onto my belly and then was going in from behind. The way he threw me around was crazy-hot. But I was getting dizzy.

Oh shit. That was deep. It was so deep that I wasn’t sure I could handle it. And he pulled my ass cheeks apart, so I felt super self-conscious that he could see my winking one-eye. How could that be sexy?

He had a handful of my hair. He pulled it a little too hard as he was thrusting into me.

“Ow, my hair.” I whined, and tried to clench my butt cheeks against his separation of them. He let go and buried his mouth in the back of my neck. I could feel his whiskers, feel his soft lips.

I moaned. It felt good.

“How ‘bout a little ass slapping?” he asked, lips right against my ear. “Float your boat?”

I laughed, “Not unless you want a kick in the nuts.”

He laughed against the ridge of my ear and then pinned me by holding my arms above my head. He was thrusting hard, his pelvis hitting my backside, making a slapping noise.

“Fuck, you’ve got a sexy ass. Love to fuck you up the ass. This ass is sexy enough, I’d maybe consider pullin’ a heist to get you that ring.”

I giggled, but ew.

I didn’t say ew. But, I thought it.  I had no desire to get fucked up the ass. Exit only!

Blah. I was starting to get a headache.

“Work you up again,” he said, lying me on my back and then his mouth was between my legs.

Holy shit.

That felt good. That felt crazy-good.

“Drape your legs over my shoulders.”

I did.

“Up on your elbows. Watch.”

“What?” I laughed.

“I want you to watch, okay?” His face was serious. So serious that I couldn’t come up with a smartass remark. So, I nodded and got up on my elbows.

The throbbing was increasing between my eyes. I was drunk and to that point where I needed to go to sleep.

But then he sucked my clit hard and I forgot my headache. Instant headache cure. I watched him do it, and it was so sexy. The sight of his tattooed shoulders, the sight of his hair, and the combo of the sight and feeling of what he was doing between my legs? I felt it building. I started to tremble.

“Watch how I lick you,” he ordered, eyes on mine with so much heat I could feel it scorching my skin. I rolled my neck back and my eyes closed anyway. It was too much. Too much sensation. I was suddenly being moved and he flipped and had me sitting on his face, “Climb on my face reverse cowgirl and suck my cock.”

I turned over and followed his order. Man, this was hot. The dirty talk? The bossiness? Surprisingly hot.

“Ridin’ the Rider…” I chanted and smiled big but then looked down at his cock, which was patiently waiting for my mouth.

I was never really into sucking guys off. I tried the occasional lick or kiss and maybe a suck and supplemented it with jacking the guy off until he came. I tried this with Rider.

“Suck, gorgeous. Suck it. Been thinkin’ bout how all that gorgeous hair of yours would feel on me, on my balls. Take me deep.”

His dirty talk? Holy moly. Half of it, I almost wanted to scrunch up my face and tell him off. But for some reason, it was making me tingle instead.

I didn’t like the taste of the latex in my mouth, but I didn’t know him well enough to go bare, so I tried to get enthusiastic about it. And I could taste me, too, which really was way out of my usual comfort zone. It did not “float my boat”.

He was enthusiastically licking me between my folds, putting pressure on my clit. And then he did something and before I could process, I was coming again, his cock firmly and deeply in my throat. And then it dawned. He’d had fingers in me, on my clit, and he’d he tongued my asshole.

Fuck, that’s dirty.

I came huge. A big…massive…shuddering orgasm, with his big pierced dick in my mouth, that piercing clinking against my back molars. He started thrusting into my face and then he came. I felt the expansion and warmth in the condom he was wearing.

I pulled him out of my mouth and collapsed on his pelvis.

He flipped me and then righted my body effortlessly, so I was at the head of the bed. He yanked up the blanket and tucked me in. He was gone to the bathroom.

I was destroyed. I was completely and utterly ruined for any other man. Ever. I just got fucked, and I also just got my butt tongue-fucked by the father of my future children. For sure. And he tucked me in. I smiled.

***

“Hey gorgeous; good morning,” I heard a deep sexy voice say. I felt warmth near my ear and smelled minty mouthwash.

“Hi,” I said, as I opened my eyes. “Whoaaaaa. Make the room stop spinning, please and thank you.”

“Two Tylenols. Big bottle of water on your bedside table. I gotta ride.”

“Hm?” I sat up. Ouch. My head. I put it back on the pillow, my hand over my eye.

“Not Tylenol. My liver’s already working too hard.”

He chuckled. “Huh?”

“Advil is processed by the stomach, Tylenol by the liver.”

“Advil bottle was empty, babe.”

Shit.

He was dressed, showered, ready to go.

“Oh. Sorry, Liver.” I popped the pills into my mouth and washed them down. “What time is it?”

“Dunno, close to noon, I think. Gotta drop Ella’s car off to her with Deacon. Me and Joe are goin’ to do that now.”

“You and Joe?”

“Yeah, babe. Gotta go. Okay? See ya.”

“Wait.” I grabbed his wrist, “I was gonna make you breakfast.”

He smiled.

“I was gonna… wake you up with breakfast and dessert.” I ran my hand up his chest.

“Raincheck? D and Joe are pollutin’ your street.”

“Huh?”

“Cars are runnin’, babe, burnin’ fuel,” he clarified.

“Oh. Okay.” I shrugged. I was feeling a little shy suddenly in the morning light under his intense turquoise gaze. Something was weird with him. I couldn’t quite put my finger on what.

He kissed me right on the lips and it was quick, but it was still hot.

“Great night, gorgeous. Later?”

“Yeah,” I said, smiling, hoping he saw how great it was for me, hoping he saw that I really would’ve preferred that he stayed. But then something gripped me like a vise.  Fear of rejection. I didn’t like the look on his face. It was sort of … serious. The playful expression I’d been getting from him thus far wasn’t there.

I tried to lose the desperate lovesick look I was probably giving off.  I shrugged, “Yeah. Sure. Cool.”

I wondered if he’d come right back after he helped Deacon get Ella’s car to her. I wondered how Ella’s night had gone.

“See ya,” I waved and then took another swig of my drink, trying to act like I didn’t care as much as I did.

He leaned over, and I thought he might kiss me again. But, he chucked me under the chin and left.

Chucked me under the chin?

What?

I was sitting there, trying to process that, when I heard talking outside over the sound of motors running, so I hopped out of bed, peeked out my window, which overlooked the back parking lot, and saw him get on a motorcycle and follow a convoy of Ella’s car and Joe’s. Rider’s orange muscle car was still parked here.

I called Ella. A couple times. And then I texted Ella. And then while I lazed, replaying the night in my mind, Ella finally called me and without as much as a Hello, asked about her car.

She hated her car. It was this big snot green 70s muscle car that her father gave her. And he was so proud of it that Ella drove it in misery, barely able to afford the gas because it was such a gas guzzler. It was funny to hear her sound worried about it.

“Duuuude. Where’s my car? Haha. Well, hello to you too, bitch.”

“Sorry Jen. Feelin’ rough. I blame you and Pip. My car?”

“Isn’t it always my fault when you have a hangover?” I laughed. But, I laughed too hard and hurt my own ears. I closed my eyes and finished, “Deacon picked it up. Rider and Joe followed him there with Joe’s car and Deacon’s bike. Rider spent the night, Ella. Oh. My. God. Omigod! I think I’m a little bit in love. I think I’ve met the father of my future children.” I felt myself slipping toward a daydream, seeing a wedding, babies. I’d never thought I wanted that. It was sort of weird to not only daydream about that but to daydream about it with a biker, a type I’d never even considered might be my happily-ever-after type.

Me and Ella were both dating bikers.

But Ella’s biker might not be what she was looking for and I needed to clue her in to what I’d heard. Spencer had said a couple of things snidely at our table about him being a player and king of the one-night-stand, during the time Deacon and Ella had disappeared at the bar, and I hadn’t had a chance to get her alone since then yet, to feel things out.

“But listen Ella, I need to talk to you about Dea---”

“Oh, that’s good. Listen, I’ll call you back.” She cut me off, sounding distracted, and then the bitch hung up on me before I could tell her about my concerns about Deacon.

I closed my eyes and decided to go back to sleep. I’d feel things out with her later, when I could open my eyes without this level of brain pain.

A while later, I woke up and peered out the window, seeing that Rider’s car was gone. He must’ve come back and gotten it. I asked Pippa if he’d come back up. She told me he hadn’t. I pushed away the way that made me feel.

I also realized I didn’t get his number and he had said he’d lost mine. Which still made no sense, since I’d watched him put it in his phone. Well, he knew where I lived.