"I'm not naive." But her voice wavers. "I'm just trying to do the right thing."
"The right thing got you harassed and almost assaulted." I lean in, my hands bracketing her hips on either side, caging her against the car. "The right thing is going to get you fired.And you want me, a criminal who hates everything your badge represents, to walk into a police station and help you?"
"Yes." She lifts her chin, stubborn and beautiful. "Because you're the only witness. The only one who can prove what really happened."
My cock is pressing against my zipper now, hard as steel, and we're close enough that she can probably feel it. Her eyes widen slightly, her pupils dilating.
"You feel that?" I lean closer, my lips nearly brushing her ear. "That's what your body does to me, officer. Makes me hard. Makes me want to fuck you against this car in front of my entire club. You think that's the kind of witness your chief wants?"
She sucks in a breath, her chest rising. "I don't care what kind of witness you are. I just need you to tell the truth."
"Why should I?" My hands flex against the car, aching to touch her. "Give me one good reason why I should walk into that station."
"Because you stopped Hayes from hurting me." Her green eyes meet mine, unflinching. "Because whatever else you are, you're not the kind of man who lets predators win."
Fuck. She's using my own principles against me.
"You don't know what kind of man I am," I growl.
"I know you punched a cop to protect me." She places her hand on my chest, right over my heart, and I feel the touch like lightning. "I know you gave me a ride even though you hate my badge. I know you're not as cold as you pretend to be."
Her hand is on my chest. Those green eyes are looking at me like I'm something more than a criminal, like I'm someone who might actually help her.
And I'm about two seconds from kissing her.
"Shadow!" I call out without breaking eye contact with her. "Tell King we need to talk. Now."
I step back before I do something stupid, putting distance between us even though my body screams in protest. She drops her hand, looking confused.
"What—"
"You want my statement?" I cut her off. "Then we do this right. Through the club. King needs to sign off on any of us talking to cops." I head back toward the clubhouse. "You coming, officer? Or you going to stand out there all day?"
She follows, and I try not to watch the way her ass moves in those jeans. Try not to think about bending her over King's desk and showing her exactly what happens when a curvy cop walks into a biker clubhouse asking for favors.
This is going to end badly.
But fuck it. I've never been good at smart decisions anyway.
Chapter 5 - Amanda
I follow Rookie into the clubhouse, my pussy already throbbing again from what just happened outside. From the way he caged me against my car, his hard cock pressing against his jeans, his breath hot on my ear when he said he wanted to fuck me.
*Makes me want to fuck you against this car in front of my entire club.*
Jesus Christ. My panties are soaked again. Completely drenched. And there's sweat trickling down between my breasts, down my chest, my body responding to him in ways I've never experienced before.
I did feel it. His bulge, thick and hard, straining against his zipper. Right there. Right fucking there. So close I could've reached down and touched it, could've felt exactly what my curves do to him. I want him to kiss me. Want those bruised knuckles on my skin. Want to know what hate-fucking feels like, because if this tension between us is any indication, it would be fucking explosive.
The clubhouse is exactly what I expected: dark wood, leather furniture, a bar along one wall, motorcycles visible through an open garage door. It smells like motor oil, leather, and whiskey. Masculine and rough, just like the man leading me deeper inside.
A few men look up as we pass. One is massive. Easily six and a half feet tall, heavily muscled, with brown hair and the kind of presence that makes you step back instinctively. Another is leaner, with tattoos covering his arms and cold gray eyes that assess me without expression.
The gray-eyed man approaches us, moving silently. This must be Shadow—the one Rookie was talking to when they rode away from the police station earlier.
"King's in his office," Shadow says, his voice low. "Tank's with him. They're waiting."
"Thanks." Rookie nods toward him, then gestures to a chair near the bar. "Sit."
