She visibly swallows and refuses to back down. God, she has balls of steel. She would truly make a damn good queen, and that only reinforces for me how fucked I am. Not that I’m considering it. I’m not. I should never have uttered that fucking word. I don’t want her at my side. I don’t want anyone at my side. What I want is purely sexual. Hot, molten lust that I neither want to control nor will. What I feel for Leah Harris is primal. Instinctual. Even though I’m seventeen years older than her, I still have eyes.
“I want…” Her tongue snakes out to moisten her lips, and I choke back a groan. “… you. I’m back in town and I’m here for you. For what you promised me. I’m here to be your queen.”
Chapter Two
Leah
It has been three years since I last felt the heat of his eyes. I’ve dreamed of those eyes, wolf-like and predatory. After that fateful night on the tower, I did what he suggested. I got the hell out of Helena and went to college. I tried to forget my life for a while, not having my father glaring at me like I was the devil himself was good for my soul. But my mom needed me, and this town has a way of getting under your skin.
That, and memories of Steel’s words. I spent many nights wondering if I made it up in my head, if I was remembering things wrong. But I know the second his gaze lands on me that he felt it too. My skin heats up like I’m wearing full-on winter gear and not the skimpy outfit that I donned around the corner of the house as soon as I was out of view.
His gaze weighs me down. It’s heavy, but I welcome it like I’d welcome anything from him. After three years, I’m starving for any scraps of his attention. God, the last time I saw him, I was a different person entirely. It feels like another lifetime, pages that I’ve kept turning until that story that night at the water tower feels like it’s a thousand novels back.
He stands over me, so close I can feel the heat of his body. The hair on the back of my neck stands on end. There must be something wrong with me because he’s looking at me with a scowl on his face like he wants to commit murder and it’s sexy in a way that it shouldn’t be. It thrills me.
I glance around the bar. Everyone is looking at us, but somehow, it’s like they don’t exist.
Like it’s just him and me. Together.
Steel’s gaze darkens, and a shiver traces up my spine. His big hand comes out and grips my arm. I love those hands. Rough hands. The hands of a man.
I want those hands on the rest of my body, playing me like an instrument.
His fingers tighten just to the point of pain. I let out a gasp, but not because it hurts. My nipples harden into tight buds under the lace of my bra, and I know by the way his stare tracks down that he’s noticed. I want to glance down at him, to his waist, to see if his body’s betrayed him like mine. Though I’m perfectly okay with my reaction, I can’t find the courage.
“We’re gonna talk, darlin’, but not fucking here. Not with an audience.”
I square my shoulders because I’m not intimidated by him or by the other bikers watching us. I don’t care about the cheap women in the place, or the greasy looking bartender gaping at me from across the room.
“I’m good here.”
“Hell no, we’re not. You’re underage.”
“I’m twenty-one next —”
Before I can argue, that rough hand tugs me. I let out a shriek of surprise as I’m picked up ass over end. The world tilts as my midsection hits a rock-hard shoulder. He’s picked me up like a sack of fucking potatoes in front of everyone, and I’m too mortified to react.
He carries me away from the bar, through the door, and out into the dark night. It’s hot and the air’s clammy. My skin is instantly soaked with a wet sheen, and my body bounces over the jerk’s shoulder. He carts me around like that for so longthat the blood rushes to my head, causing strange spots to dance in front of my eyes.
Finally, I ball my hands into fists and beat uselessly against his back. A back that might as well be concrete, it’s so hard.
“Stop that!” A big hand comes down hard on my ass, smacking me, catching me completely off guard.
A second later, I’m swung down onto my feet again and so stunned that it takes me a second to get my bearings. After I tug my shorts down, adjusting them back to a point of decency, I face him, breathing harder than I want to.
I am shocked to find that I’m not the only one.
“Why—What’s going on?” I ask, completely baffled by the man in front of me.
He looks… wild, with his lips parted. He drags in huge draws of air like my weight was a burden to him, but I know it wasn’t.
His eyes are so intense that I actually take a step back. We’re in the bar parking lot, on the far end, where a line of spindly trees stand guard. They’re not much taller than ten feet. The night is so dark that it feels like a black sludge around us, no moon or stars to provide any light. The only glow spills from the bar’s windows. It glints off the rows and rows of bikes, the chrome glistening.
“You! That’s what’s going on!”
My eyes slowly filter downward, more by accident than any amount of bravery I summon.Holy shit.The bulge in his worn jeans is just as impressive as the rest of him. I’ve never seen black look better on anyone before, and there’s a lot of it. Steel’s T-shirt shows off every bulging muscle in his arms.A black leather vestwith his club patch on the back stretches across his broad chest. His jeans hug every single chunky muscle in his powerful legs, which end in huge, shit-kicker boots.
Yep, impressive is one hell of an understatement.
