Roman - Lane Hart Page 0,34
agitation.
“Whew!” she exhales when I cut the engine and prop the bike up on its kickstand. “I was starting to wonder how far out in the boonies you actually lived! I figured you would have a place closer to your…what do you call it, your base?”
“You mean the clubhouse?” I grin. “We’re only about five miles from it. The beach traffic slows things down out here, and I wanted to ride by the ocean.”
“I’m glad you did,” she says as she hangs the helmet on my bike. “The smells, the sights, people relaxing and enjoying life…it helps you unwind. You feel so close to all of it on a motorcycle. I always just thought they were terrifying death traps, but I’m starting to see the attraction.”
“I hope I can show you all kinds of things you’ll be attracted too,” I quip as I motion her towards the gate we rode through at the end of my driveway. “This first gate has a code you have to punch in, but it opens automatically when a vehicle approaches to leave. We’ll get your car later and bring it over here. The code is six-seven-three-six. If you forget the numbers, just remember the word Oreo.”
When Charlotte bursts into laughter, I turn to her with my face reddening. “What’s so funny?” I demand.
“Oh god, I must be getting an exhaustion high,” she gasps as she continues laughing. “The thought of your gate code being a cookie…Oreo…” she continues to giggle.
“I’ve got a sweet tooth,” I admit, before stomping past her up the driveway.
“A biker and a stripper with a sweet tooth!” she manages to choke out through her laughter.
“Keep it up, giggles, and I won’t tell you the password for the main gate to the house,” I tease. “I’ll make you ring the bell and wait every time you come home!”
“Okay, okay, I’ll try to behave,” she assures me.
“This one is eight-nine-four-nine,” I tell her as I punch in the code and open the reinforced metal gate leading to the stairs up to my house. “Just remember the word…”
“Don’t tell me!” Charlotte interrupts. “Let me see the keypad…eight-nine-four-nine… Twix!” she says with a clap of her hands, beaming a smile up at me.
“Twix,” I confirm, unable to hide my own grin. “Not even my MC brothers know those codes, I always buzz them in, so you keep these secrets for life, understand?”
“Oh my, do they know about your secret sweet addiction?” she teases as we climb the stairs.
“They absolutely do not, and they will never find out,” I growl. “That’s another secret you will keep. You promise me?”
I expect her to tease me further, or even joke about what great blackmail material I’ve given her; but instead, at the top of the stairs, she puts a hand on my arm to stop me. She turns me around and looks directly into my eyes. “I promise, Roman. There aren’t many men who would help me the way you have. You can trust me with anything, I swear to you.” She leans into me; and when our lips meet, the passion between us ignites instantly into a raging inferno. Her hands wander freely down my chest as I pull her as close to me as I can. After only a few short moments, however, she lightly pushes me back, smiling up at me. “I mean it, Roman. Anything, even your secret cookie fetish.”
“It’s not a fetish, woman,” I growl. My voice is husky from the feelings she constantly awakens in me. “I’m not going to eat a Twix out of your…” I stop myself before I complete the sentence, turning abruptly and leading the way into the house.
“What were you about to say?” Charlotte asks behind me as we step into my kitchen.
“Nothing, I got distracted,” I deflect. “I’m going to start cooking. Do you want to take a shower or change or something?”
“Oh God, you don’t know how good a hot shower sounds,” she moans. “Wait, is that a hot tub out there on the porch?” she asks as she looks out the huge bay windows in my kitchen.
“Yeah, my back gets a little sore from long rides sometimes,” I confess. “That thing is a life-saver after a long haul.”
“Good to know,” she says. “I don’t have any clothes or anything with me yet. I’ll need to go back to the rental to get all my things tomorrow. For now, could I borrow a t-shirt and some boxers maybe?”
“Yeah, of course,” I agree. I lead