“Get on,” I rasp.
She climbs on without a flicker of doubt. Her thighs bracket mine, tight and sure. Her hands slide around my waist like she owns the right to touch me. I fire up the engine and the rumble shoots straight up my spine, all adrenaline and bad decisions. She settles against my back like she was built to ride with me, a certainty I’ve never deserved but refuse to turn down.
We tear through the night, fast enough the streetlights smear into streaks of gold and shadow. My pulse syncs with hers, every breath she exhales hitting the back of my neck like sparks off flint. No overthinking. No excuses. I take the fastest line home.
The second we roll into my driveway, the world narrows to just us. I kill the engine and pull her helmet off slow, fingers trailing her jaw. She tries to hide the smile threatening to take over her face. She fails.
She steps off the bike and I’m already there, crowding into her space, voice rough with everything I’m trying to hold back.
“You sure?” I ask. “Because you walk through that door with me, and I’m not letting you go.”
Her hands curl into the front of my cut and she drags me down until our mouths share the same breath.
“Blade,” she whispers. “I’m sure.”
That’s the last permission I’ll ever need.
I back her inside, kick the door shut, and press her against it, my chest heaving like I ran the whole way home.
“You think this is just tonight?” I ask, brushing my thumb across her cheekbone.
She shakes her head, breath catching. “I think it’s whatever we want.”
“No,” I say, honesty ripping straight through me. “You kiss me like you mean it. You get on the back of my bike like you belong there.” My hand slides up, fingers curling around the side of her neck. “I’m not letting you walk away. Not tomorrow. Not ever.”
Her pulse jumps hard against my palm. “Good.”
That word… it detonates something feral inside me.
“You’re mine, Bri.”
Her grin turns wicked, eyes dark with want. “Then kiss me again.”
So I do. Hard. Hungry. Certain. I lift her like she weighs nothing. Her legs wrap around me in one smooth move that steals my good sense. She whispers my name against my jaw and it feels like destiny finally calling my bluff.
I carry her through the threshold of my room, her lips marking a path along my neck that tests my ability to stay upright. I set her down but stay right up against her. No space. No doubt.
I put my cut on the dresser. Then I pull my shirt from my back up and over my head. My shirt hits the floor. Her eyes track every inch of me. Every line of ink, scar, and muscle.
She runs her hands up my chest then pulls me into another kiss. I walk her backward until the bed catches her legs and she falls back with a soft sound that I feel everywhere.
My lips trail along her neck, slow enough that every tiny shiver tells me exactly how bad she needs this. My hand cups her big tits and I squeeze, loving the way her moan vibrates against my mouth. God, the sounds she gives me? I’m obsessed.
I grab her shirt and rip it open like I’ve been thinking about it all damn night. Her chest rises and falls, breathing all uneven, her tits practically spilling out of that bra. I kiss my way down, rubbing and squeezing like she’s my favorite thing to touch. Because she is. I fucking love her tits.
“You pushed,” I murmur against her warm skin. “You teased.”
My hand slides inside her bra and I yank the lace down so she’s bared to me, perfect and mine.
“Now you pay for it.”
I take her nipple into my mouth, tongue circling slow before I suck hard and bite just enough to make her gasp. Her fingers dive into my hair and tug, and yeah. That does things to me.
She arches up like she’s trying to feed herself to me, like her body already knows I’m the only one who gets to have her like this. I switch to her other nipple, giving it the same attention, slow licks then a rough suck that makes her whimper my name. Music to my damn ears.
Her legs wrap around my waist, pulling me down against her soft curves. I grind into her without even thinking about it, a low growl caught in my throat when I feel how warm she is through our clothes.
“You like pushing me?” I say, voice rough against her skin. “You like acting like you have no idea what you do to me?”
