Her laugh is breathless, delighted. The poor waiter swallows hard, eyes darting between us. “I’ll, uh . . . get the bill,” he mutters, rushing off.
I don’t bother waiting. I toss a few notes down, snatch up the bags, and round the booth. “Let’s go,” I order firmly, giving her backside a sharp swat as she slides past me. She yelps then smirks over her shoulder, clearly pleased with herself. I’m two seconds away from dragging her into the alley outside and reminding her that teasing me is a dangerous fucking game.
Chapter Fourteen
Remi
Once the bags are secured with Shooter, we get on the bike. The ride home is torture, but the good kind.
Shadow doesn’t say a word, doesn’t even look at me, but I can feel everything in the way he handles the bike. The way his muscles flex under my hands as I cling to him. The way his thighs tighten as he leans into every turn. The way the growl of the engine matches the simmer under his skin.
I press my cheek against his back, pretending I don’t notice how hard his breathing is or how tense his grip is on the handlebars. But I feel it. Every second.
By the time we pull into the clubhouse, my nerves are shot. He cuts the engine, the sudden silence deafening, and I slide off the seat on shaky legs. He’s off the bike in a heartbeat, helmet tugged free, and grabbing the bags from Shooter. With the other hand, he catches my wrist.
No words. No warning. Just an undercurrent of need.
He drags me inside, slamming the door with his boot. The bags drop, forgotten, as my back collides with the wall. His armbraces beside my head, his chest pinning me in place, his other hand gripping my hip so tight, I gasp.
“You think you’re funny?” His voice is low, dangerous, vibrating through me. “Dragging it out. Making me sit there while you played your little games.”
My lips twitch, though my pulse is hammering. “Maybe.”
His eyes flash, dark and molten. “Darlin’, you just lit the match. Now, watch me burn.”
“Everything okay?” asks Lexi, pausing in the kitchen doorway with concern etched on her face.
I flash a grin as he drags me past, and she laughs, giving a knowing smile. “Oh, I see,” she murmurs before sipping her tea. “Now, you be careful up there,” she adds as we disappear up the stairs.
He doesn’t slow until we’re in the safety of his room, and the second he locks the door, he’s already kicking off his boots.
I laugh, my confidence boosted by his complete desperation for me.Me.
“Do you want me to strip or should I—”
“Stay right there,” he orders, hanging his kutte onto the back of the door before pulling his T-shirt over his head. It lands in a heap, forgotten, and I can’t help staring at the hard planes of his chest, the ink that spreads over his skin, every muscle taut with restraint.
I swallow, my bravado wobbling under the weight of his command. “And if I don’t?” I tease, my voice thinner than I want it to be.
His gaze snaps to mine. “Then I’ll tie you to the bed and you won’t see daylight ‘til I’m done.”
Heat pools low in my belly. My breath stutters, but I don’t look away. “Big words,” I manage, curling my fingers into the wall behind me to stop myself from fidgeting.
He prowls towards me, his belt buckle glinting under the dim light as he flicks it open. “Not words, darlin’. Promises.”
The air between us crackles. My grin falters, my confidence splintering under the sheer force of him, hungry, furious, desperate, and all of it aimed at me.
“Now,” he murmurs, looming over me, one hand braced on the wall by my head, the other dragging the coat from my shoulders in one rough motion. “Let’s see how patient you can be.”
My breath catches. Heat floods my skin as he peels the coat slowly from my skin, letting it pool at my feet. His gaze drags over me slowly, dark and hungry, and the smirk that tugs at his mouth makes my knees weak.
“You made me wait all day,” he says, voice low, deliberate. “Sat there stuffing your face like you didn’t know I was ready to snap. Were you even hungry?” I open my mouth to argue, to tell him I was only teasing, but the words dissolve when his fingers trail along the curve of my thigh, light, almost lazy. A shiver shoots through me. “Well,” he continues, that dark grin widening, “now, it’s your turn. You’re gonna learn what waiting feels like.”
His touch skims higher, featherlight, but when I arch towards him, desperate for more, he pulls back with a shake of his head. “Not yet, darlin’.”
Frustration coils inside me, sharp and unbearable. “Logan,” I whisper, hating the needy tremor in my voice.
“Nuh-uh,” he cuts me off, his mouth brushing my ear. “You’ll get what you want when I’m good and ready, and not a second before.”
