“What year was the belt drive given to all Sportster models? I say it was 1992 and Skull—”
“You’re fuckin’ wrong, dude. It was 1991. I’d bet my Fat Boy on it.” Skull scrubbed his face with his fist.
Steel adjusted himself on the seat of his bike. “Don’t. It was 1993.” He held up his hand as the two brothers started to argue. “I don’t have time for this. Google it and see that I’m right. I gotta go.”
Paco came up close to him and sniffed. “Fuck, you smell good.” He wiggled his brows and Skull guffawed. “You seeing the pretty blonde who was cozy on your couch yesterday?”
Steel scowled. “Fuck off.”
“He’s seeing her,” Skull said. “Question is, are you gonna fuck her?” He slapped his hand against Paco’s arm and the two men laughed.
Steel’s nostrils flared as he bared his teeth. The urge to jump off his bike and pummel Skull into a bloody pulp seized him. Their laughter died as they stared at him. “I was only joking, dude. I just thought she was some chick. Sorry,” Skull muttered.
Breathing heavily, Steel willed his rage to simmer as he sat immobile on his Harley. Paco tugged at Skull’s shirt. “Steel’s gotta get going. Come on.” He pulled his friend away, then stopped. “I’ve never seen you like this about a chick, so I didn’t know. I just thought it was business as usual.”
Steel shook his head. “She’s just a chick, but I don’t want anyone talking shit about her.”
“Yeah. No worries. Have a good time.” Paco walked back to the clubhouse with Skull on his heels. They looked back at him before they went inside.
Steel slammed his hand on the handlebars.Fuck those assholes!He switched on the ignition and sped away from the clubhouse. He didn’t have a clue as to why he wanted to annihilate Skull for joking around about a chick. He would’ve done the same thing if the roles had been reversed, but he hated hearing Skull talk like Breanna was just a piece of ass. She was different from any woman he’d ever met. She intrigued and fascinated him, but she also exasperated and pissed the hell out of him, and she was always in his head.
He slowed down when he entered the town and made his way to her small house, parking his motorcycle on the street and striding up to the porch. He rang the bell and the door flew open. Breanna smiled broadly at him and opened the screen door, moving aside as he entered her home.
“I see the prospect did a good job of fixing your door,” he said as he sat on the back of the couch.
She swatted his forearm lightly. “You’re damn lucky he did.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Oh yeah? And what were you gonna do if he didn’t?”
“Make you come over and do it.”
“Coming over here wouldn’t be a chore for me, baby.” He ran his gaze over her body, loving the way her tight jeans showed off her rounded curves and toned legs. Her crop top revealed enough skin to throw his dick in overdrive. A small sparkle from the top of her belly button hinted at hidden treasures further below. He sucked in his breath as he imagined what she would look like when he ripped her clothes from her tempting body.
“My face is up here,” she said, breaking his pornographic reverie.
He slid his gaze upward and captured hers. “And it’s a beautiful one. Your hair makes you look angelic, but I bet you got more devil in you than anything else.”
She tilted her head back, her laughter sparkling like diamonds under a bright light. He gripped her arm and drew her to him, then planted a kiss on her throat. He loved the way it vibrated against his lips. He cupped her ass cheeks and squeezed them but she twisted away, her golden hair swaying with her. “You promised to behave.”
He cocked his head to the side, a half smile tugging at his lips. “I didn’t promise shit. Besides, there’s no fucking way I could promise you that. You’re too tempting.” He licked his lips and chuckled when crimson painted her cheeks.
“Aren’t we supposed to go out to dinner?” She turned away and picked up a small purse. “I’m starving, and before you turn that into something sexual, I mean for food—like enchiladas and burritos.”
He laughed as he straightened up. “I did promise to feed you. Let’s go.” He walked outside and waited for her to lock the door, then grabbed her hand and walked down the sidewalk to his bike. “Your dad take you on Harley rides when you were a kid?”
“Yeah. I haven’t been on one for a long time. I’d say it’s been about fifteen years or so.”
“It’ll come back to you. Just make sure you hold me real tight and press yourself close.”
A puzzled look crossed her face. “Is that to keep my balance better?”
He swung his leg over and sat on the leather seat. “Nah. It’s for me to feel your tits against my back.” He winked at her. “Get on.” She climbed on, putting her feet on the footrest and then placing her hands lightly on his hips. “You’re gonna have to hold on tighter. My custom is one helluva powerful machine. If you’re not holding on, you’re gonna find yourself on your cute ass.” She rolled her eyes but didn’t reposition her hands. “All right. You’ve been warned.” He turned on the ignition and the iron horse roared to life.
When he pulled away from the curb, he heard Breanna yelp, then felt her arms wrap tightly around his waist. He could’ve told her that he warned her, but he let it go because he was enjoying how incredible she felt pressed into him. She was the only woman who’d ever been on his bike aside from Chenoa. He never thought he’d ask a woman to ride with him, but there was something about Breanna that made her the exception to his rules. The novelty both excited and angered him, but for that night, he’d decided to just go with it.
Jalisco’s was located in the middle of the block on Main Street. With a brightly painted yellow exterior and large terracotta planters overflowing with pink, red, purple, and blue flowers by the entrance, the restaurant was a landmark in Alina. The interior was just as colorful, each wall painted a different shade of green and yellow. Acrylic paintings depicting village and landscape scenes from Jalisco, Mexico, adorned the walls. In the back, a patio with about fifteen wrought iron tables and chairs welcomed guests during the summer and autumn months. Strands of red, green, yellow, and orange chili pepper lights strung around the perimeter of the patio made the area festive.
Steel watched how her lips curved around the rim of her margarita glass, wishing like hell they were around his dick. The tip of her pink tongue licked the granules of salt off her bottom lip and he shifted in his chair.
