Wrath (Heartlands Motorcycle Club #7) - Dani Wyatt Page 0,7

to her. I know what I see. Her mouth may say get lost but her tits and her eyes say ‘fuck me’, and sooner or later I intend to do just that.

And more.

Fucking is fine. Well, it was before she came into my life. Now, I want to fuck her but I want to know her. I want to watch her paint her toenails. I want to paint her toenails. I want to know if she’s grouchy in the morning and how she likes her coffee—if she even likes coffee.

I want to know how she sounds when I kiss her neck and what’s her favorite kind of cake to have on her birthday.

I want her ass in my bed every night and her lips on mine every morning. I don’t know what she’s done to me, but I took one look at her and I was addicted. I’m still waiting for my first real fix but I plan on making sure the waiting is close to over.

“You are on your way out.” She snaps back as I come closer, the distance between us two paces at most, and she gives me a slow look up and down as I drop my t-shirt and I feel the rational part of me evaporate as her sweet scent hits me.

She’s turned on. By me.

I could be deluding myself, but I swear I smell her arousal mixed with her usual light floral and fresh scent. I don’t know if it’s her perfume or her shampoo or some other girly lotion shit but she always smells so fucking good it makes my mouth water.

My blood rushes through my veins, hot and violent, as I close the space between us. I’ve been like a caged animal since that first day I saw her and I’m done pacing behind the bars.

“What are you doing?” She looks down to where my hand is on her upper arm, my other one drifting to her neck, sweeping under a few errant wisps of her hair that have escaped the ponytail, and I squeeze the back of her head, pulling her a few inches forward.

There’s panic in her eyes, but she doesn’t pull away. The feel of her in my hands sends a feral pulse through my body. My dick is throbbing, leaking cum, and practically tearing through my jeans to get to her.

“Let go.” She locks her eyes with mine. “If you don’t want your food...”

Her voice trails off as I lean down and take a deep breath next to her ear, letting her scent move through me like a tsunami.

“You want me to let go?” I whisper, tightening my grip on her neck as my other hand drifts down her back to just above her righteous ass, and I press forward until her tits are against me and I want to pound my chest with my fists.

“I want...” She starts, her voice breathy as her body softens and I make sure my dick makes clear contact with her hip. Her lips are like a bow on the top of a present, and I lean down, my face not an inch from hers, watching her eyes dilate as the slightest of moans replaces whatever else she was going to say.

Fuck, she feels so good. I wrap my hand around her waist, swaying slightly against her, holding her steady. The heat between us could light tinder.

“You were saying?” I ask. “You were saying what you want...”

Her breath is warm and sweet against my lips. She’s breathing faster and I know after this, I won’t be able to live without her. If this simple touch is making me this rabid, once I get inside that little pussy of hers, there will be no turning back.

“My father would kill you if he saw you here.”

“I don’t see your father anywhere.” I challenge, listening to the little hitch in her breathing. “Besides, he doesn’t strike me as the killing kind.”

“And you would know.” She bites back, but what I feel coming from her tells me a little danger is just what she needs.

I brush my lips to hers. This is the kiss I’ve been waiting for, dreaming about, for a year.

Just as I press forward, I’m ripped from the moment by a voice behind me.

“Get your hands off her.” I turn to see the dude that is sort of the second in command around here, glaring at us, and feel Kristina’s hands shoving against my chest as she backs into the shelves behind her.

I