Bulldog - Hope Ford Page 0,4

both my hands up to his chest and holds them there. His breath is hot on my face and it’s like I can feel the emotion in his voice. “Fuck, I want to kiss you.”

I should say no. I should tell him how old I am and then I know he’ll let me walk away from him. But I don’t. Staring into his eyes, I raise onto my tiptoes. He pulls one of my hands up to his shoulder, setting it there until I wrap it around the back of his neck. He cups my face, still holding my other hand. He leans down and when his lips touch mine, I can feel the heat of it all the way to my toes.

He may be young, but he knows what he’s doing. His tongue slides in and then out again. He’s pushing me for more, the way he’s angled his face and taking me in. His leg slides between mine, and I clench my legs on to him tightly because his kiss is already more than I can handle. I can’t take much more.

When he pulls away, we’re both gasping for breath, and I know I’m looking at him like he has a third eye or something, but sweet Mary, I’ve never been kissed like that before.

Finally, lifting from my daze, I realize that the reason he stopped was because of all the catcalls. The bikers are all laughing and making noise. I look back at my table of friends and all three of them are watching us with stunned looks on their faces.

I put my hands on his chest and push away from him, forcing myself to put some distance between us. But he doesn’t let me go far. He holds his hand out to me. “Let me have your phone.”

I don’t even question him; I pull it out of my pocket and hand to him. As he types into it, he says, “I like it that you’re being safe and not handing out your address. I’m going to text myself from your phone so I have your number.”

It doesn’t even register with me that maybe I shouldn’t have given him my phone. I’m still too messed up and need to recover. He walks me back to the table before bending over and kissing my cheek. “Thanks for the dance… and the kiss.”

4

Kate

The rest of the night is a blur. When he brought me back to the table, kissed me on the cheek, and walked away, I almost got up and followed him. But common sense prevailed. No matter how sexy he is, no matter how good the man can kiss, there’s nothing that can come of it. My friends all go crazy and even call me cougar a few times, and even though I laugh, it still hurts a little.

I try to keep my eyes off him, but they keep straying over to the door where he’s standing. And every time I look that way, he’s staring right at me, and even across the room, I can see the heat in his eyes.

I finally call it a night when all three of my friends have had one too many. Carrie has had way too many and can barely walk at this point.

Bull shows up as if on cue and helps me get my friends to my car. It’s a struggle, and I’m sure I should be embarrassed by how loud and rowdy they are being. The irony hits me that of the whole night, we’re the ones that have caused the ruckus at the bar, not any of the bikers.

Once they’re all in my car, I thank Bull for helping me again. But he doesn’t say anything; he just pulls me in for another kiss that has me melting against him. His hands slide up my waist and he teases my nipple through my clothes. I gasp, but all that does is give him more access, and he deepens the kiss and his finger rolls against my hard peak.

If I had a lucid thought I’d pull away. I know I should be offended, but I can’t, and I don’t. If anything, I push my breast into his hand, and he squeezes me. My head falls back with a loud groan.

He’s smiling at me. He knows exactly what he’s doing to me. “Call me, Kate.” The demand makes him seem mature beyond his years.

When I get into my car, luckily all three of my friends seem to be passed