the back door to the parking lot. Her car was in the front, but she always left through the back door to throw the drunk patrons off her scent.
As she rounded the corner, her steps stalled.
Because there he was, leaning against his bike. Waiting for her.
Well, she hoped he was waiting for her. When he saw her, he unfolded his long legs and stood.
“Did you change your mind?” she asked, trying for a flippant tone.
His beautiful eyebrow arched. “About what?”
“Taking me home?” Might as well be brash.
He gestured to his bike. “My alternator is shot. I’m waiting for a ride.”
“Ah.” Why disappointment flooded her was a mystery. Or not.
“Was there…an offer on the table?” His voice was a low melody that danced on the skeins of air. It was annoying. And not.
“Hey. I’m not the one who walked away.” She tried not to let her petulance show.
He stepped closer and searched her face. She let him. Not hiding at all. Or not hiding everything. She let her interest show.
“Let’s get one thing straight, Pigtails—”
“Pigtails?”
“Yeah. Pigtails.” He flicked her hair, reminding her how she’d pulled it up. She’d been going for backwoods innocent, but it might have backfired on her. With a harsh movement, she yanked out the rubber bands and her hair fell around her face. His lashes flickered. Something that looked like hunger washed over his features.
“What do you want to get straight?”
His jaw clenched. “I don’t like questions. Pure and simple. Understood?”
The way he said the word, with a thread of dominance in his tone, sent a shiver through her. She lowered her eyes and nodded. “Understood. So…do you? Want to come home with me? No questions asked?”
“Maybe.” He checked his watch. “Looks like my ride isn’t going to show, anyway.”
Hardly the flood of interest she would have preferred. Irritation rippled. “Or I can give you a lift home.” And when his cheek bunched, “Or call you a cab.”
“I’d rather go home with you.” He stepped closer, too close, and pulled her against him. His fingers were harsh on her flesh, his insistence alluring. Yes, this was what she wanted. Something rough. Something ruthless. Something demanding.
Hunger rose in her, swamping her desire to finish this story and get back home. Hell, she could probe him with questions later. After. This need was far more pressing.
When he lowered his head, she caught a whiff of his aftershave and her knees locked. He was tall, muscled and rough around the edges. Just the kind of guy she’d always craved.
His lips touched hers and she nearly collapsed. It was a wild rush, a tumult of sensation. For a starved woman, as she was, he was irresistible. She couldn’t help but kiss him back, a manic frenzy. Her passion seemed to spur his on, and he wrapped himself around her, tipped his head and deepened the kiss. His hands roved over her back, her hips, her ass. Nothing tentative. Nothing tender.
When he lifted his head, she was a bowl of Jell-O. Ready and willing.
“So do you want to?” Her voice caught on the invitation.
“Yeah.” He yanked her tighter and his cock gouged into her belly, hard and needy. “Yeah. I want to. Just no more questions.”
No more questions.
Right.
* * *
They didn’t talk at all as she drove to her crappy motel on the outskirts of town. Partly because it took all her concentration to drive with his steamy attention locked on her, and partly because she didn’t know what to say.
It wasn’t her usual way to pick up men for a roll in the hay.
But then, she’d never met a guy like him before.
He was mouthwateringly handsome, with a square-cut jaw speckled with scruff. His eyes were inky pools laced with long lashes and his lips were full and—as she now knew—delicious. But it was more than his sinfully angelic looks that drew her. More than his powerful build, his broad shoulders and muscled thighs.
It was his presence. He was dark and brooding and oozed dominance.
He set his hand on her thigh, just casually; it felt as though he was claiming her. The simple touch sent a bolt of electricity straight to her womb.
Holy God. She was doing this.
She was going to fuck him. Him.
Anticipation and trepidation and fear bubbled. But mostly anticipation.
She parked in a slot in the empty lot and shut off the engine. The dim light from the streetlamp filtered into the car. The silence of the night encased them.