BILLIONAIRE BIKERS: 3 MC Romance Books (44 page)

              "Yeah right." I snort to express my disbelief, although it shakes me to my core to hear her say it with such defeated conviction. "Then why are you here, huh? So…you don't want to pick a fight." I unwrap a finger from around my own drink and point it toward her. "You must want my help, is that it?"

              "I don't know what I want," she murmurs. She stares into the water roiling between us. "I didn't think ahead this time. I guess I never think ahead. All I knew on the way over here was that no matter the outcome… I wanted to see you."

              I gaze at her a long moment through the steam. I thought I could see her clearly before; now, the steam billows like an impenetrable curtain between us.

              I set my drink aside. Then, I shove off from the side of the hot tub and glide across the water toward her. She doesn't try to escape; instead, her grip on her drink loosens. The glass falls, emptying its contents into the water, and floats away as I take her face into my hands. She leans forward as I pull myself in.

              My lips, slick with alcohol, alight and move against hers, banishing any trace of the sweet-tasting rain that still lingered on her face. I cement my mouth to hers for a long moment, before drawing back to continue my campaign: kissing her flushed cheeks, her sharp chin, and the shutter of each eyelid as she allows them to drift closed beneath me.

              "You have feelings for me," I murmur. Is it the heat? Why is it suddenly so hard to draw breath? "That's why you came."

              "Just call it what it is," Lane says, her fingers tightening over my tensed biceps. "It's more than just
feelings,
and you know it."

              "Has been for a long time," I muse in agreement, dipping my head to kiss the curve of her neck. She sighs and melts back beneath me. Even counting all the times we've come together before, I can't recall her ever feeling so relaxed. "If you really want to know the truth."

              "Before we met," she says. Her voice catches on an incredulous laugh. "Before I even knew who you were. All you were was a tailpipe to me, and yet…"

              "Stay here tonight, " I interrupt her. "With me."

              She opens her mouth, and for a moment I think she'll refuse me. I want to kiss her lips closed again, to stifle whatever words may come, but she beats me to the punch by asking, "What about your friend?"

              "Dash couldn't give less of a shit about what I do." It's not totally a lie, but I have a feeling it errs more on the side of the truth than even I know. "Let's get out of here."

              Lane doesn't protest, not even when I leverage myself over the side of the hot tub and lift her out after me. Water streams off her naked, flushed form as I pull her close; her drenched hair hangs like a gold streamer down her back. She reaches up to touch my face, almost shy in her tentativeness, and I dip down to kiss her once more, my own hair painting her forehead in a wet sweep.

              "You haven't shaved," she chuckles against me as I turn to carry her, bridal-style, over the threshold and back inside the mansion clubhouse. "Are you letting yourself go because you're so lovesick about me?"

              "You know, for all your 'call it like it is' bullshit, you're really not being straightforward here," I mention as I ferry my prize up the stairs. I can hear Dash in the other room, watching some droning show on the wall-mounted television; he's not one to retreat to his room unless he wants to go there, but I appreciate that he's giving us privacy. He probably knew exactly where this evening was headed before either of us cottoned onto it.

              "First you lured me out onto your deck and made me remove my clothes, and now I can only assume what your intentions for me will be upstairs," Lane points out. "And I'm obviously okay with all of this. I don't know how much more
straightforward
you can get, Houdini."

              I refrain from commenting until I can be assured of our complete privacy. I maneuver the beautiful woman in my arms down the unlit hallway of the second story, seeking the room I occupy on the end. The door is cracked, and I push it open with the outside of my calf. I don't bother with the lights in here, either, and Lane doesn't object to the darkness. The rain falls in a soothing staccato as I deposit her on the bed. Her hands come up to remove my swim trunks as I ease down on top of her. I lean in, my elbows framing her gorgeous face as I smooth a stray strand of hair back from her eyes.

              "I want you to say it first," I whisper, eyes tracking between hers until I'm afraid I've lost myself. She gazes up at me, looking equally lost. I don't know why I'm insisting on this—it's not as if I'll take it for a victory, hearing her articulate the three words I've played over and over in my mind. How can it be anyone's victory when we'll both come out the winners?

              Maybe I'm too afraid to say it. Me, who the boys in blue call Houdini, who wrecks bikes and hearts and rules without a second thought to any ancillary damage, and I'm too afraid to tell the woman who means more to me than anything that I—

              "I love you, Wolf," Lane breathes as she wraps her arms around my neck. "I know I shouldn't. But I love you."

              "I love you too, Elizabeth Lane."

              Relief, and the warmth of the woman beneath me, engulfs me utterly as I follow her down into the soft embrace of the bed. She hikes one of her long legs up, wrapping it around my waist, as the rigid column of my erection slides against her slick navel.

I've never told a woman that I loved her before. Especially not under these circumstances. And something about the awed glimmer in Lane's eyes, her gaze swimming up at me in the darkness, tells me that it's the same for her.

I won't ask. I don't need to, and there are better times than this to get down to the dirty details about it. Right now, I'm more interested in a different set of dirty details, and about basking in the moment with this gorgeous woman. I'd rather be enjoying this unforeseen turn my evening has taken than devoting another one of my brain cells to talking myself in or out of this exchange.

Lane rises up beneath me, propping herself up on one elbow, and reaches back behind my head. She pulls me down by the roots of my hair, and my throat constricts over a purr of satisfaction as I crush my lips against hers once more. I thread my tongue with hers, warring, tangling, as my hand drags along the wrinkled blanket adorning the bed and finds the outside of her hip. I settle my pelvis down between her legs, moving myself against the slick, secret passage I crave with every fiber of my being. It doesn't matter if I'm awake or asleep, riding the roads or hanging around the Clubhouse bored out of my skull: she's all I want and all I need—everything that makes getting up in the morning worth it. I'm a man who’s had everything, given it all up, taken it back when it served him, and taken more than his fair share of what the world has to offer, and everything pales in comparison to being loved by this woman. She could throw me to the ground and dig one of her favorite undercover heels into my back, and I would still thank her for it. That's how much having her around means to me.

I consider it a bonus when I'm the one who gets to be on top.

As if reading the filth of my thoughts, I feel the former detective start up beneath me suddenly; the unexpected thrust of one knife-sharp hip threatens to hit home between my legs unless I react swiftly, so I tip sideways, favoring one knee as I wait for this energetic upheaval to come to an end. Apparently my move was exactly what Lane was anticipating, because the woman takes advantage of my unbalanced position astride her to throw me off completely. I wheel slightly in the dark space above the bed and fall comfortably on my back, not bothering to try and regain my dominant position as she mounts me.

"Oh yeah? Is that how it's going to be?" I taunt her in the dark. My hands come up to grip her naked thighs, fingertips digging into the soft skin and reveling at just how firm her body really is. "Considering the last few times we fucked, I was starting to think you preferred being taken fast, hard, and protesting." Her protesting always leads to begging in the end, of course. A part of me thinks my addiction to sex with Lane stems largely from the role-reversal we enjoy in the bedroom, but I'm perfectly willing to entertain this latest reversal as well.

"Is this you protesting?" Lane arches an eyebrow in the darkness, before laying herself almost flat against me, her full breasts touching down against my chest and making me groan with the desire to fondle them.

"Not at all," I manage to get out. She smiles, tight-lipped and hungry, and reaches down between our joined bodies to grab hold of my shaft. The sweet, warm pressure of her touch, and the pleasurable sensation as she firms her grip, causes me to buck inadvertently beneath her.

"You like that?" she teases me back.

"Fuck yeah I do."

Shit, I would be happy with a hand job from my favorite intrepid officer at this point, and I'm sure with her skill she could polish me off quickly and taunt me even more about it later. Instead, she rises up a little on her knees and positions herself like a champ, hovering just above the throbbing dome of my manhood. My hands glide up to the dimples of her ass, welcoming her back down as she lowers herself and sheathes me completely. We both moan at the joining; it feels like a homecoming, and she's as tight as ever, fitting me like an almost too-small glove. I can't get enough of it.

She begins to gyrate her hips, working me backwards, forwards, and side-to-side as she leans back a little. Her angled position grants me full access to the sight of my thick cock, wet with her aroused juices, pumping in and out of her; I watch the column of it disappear inside her again and again, welcomed by the eager pink slit that can't seem to get enough of me.

Lane moans as she works me. It's another experience entirely, watching her effectively pleasure herself on my dick; my own pleasure seems almost like a by-product to her by comparison, but there's no denying it's heightened completely by the sight of her. Her wet, tawny blond hair spills over one shoulder, pulled to one the side and framing her panting face, her expression of intense concentration. The way she rolls her hips is sinful; the liquid movement of her pelvis as she thrusts against me again and again should be illegal, but I guess we know whose side of the law she's living on now. No one who wears a uniform during the day fucks like this, that's for damn sure.

Her eyes are locked on the sight of us joined together, watching me disappear inside her again and again like it's the only thing in the world worthy of her attention. I watch through lidded eyes and emit quiet moans of my own as her passion climbs to new heights. Like me, she looks incredibly turned-on by the sight of our lovemaking alone, never mind the amazing, building feeling we both share.

Her clit, pearl-pink and as small as the rest of her, looks as if it aches for my attention. I lift one hand off her undulating waist and see to its needs, parting her smooth, thin lips and rubbing it with the pressure I know she needs. A hitch in her rhythm, and a little cry of pleasure as she lets her head fall back, tells me I'm on the right track.

"Yesss," she purrs again.
"Ohhh."
She lets herself get louder, losing more and more of her inhibition, as I stroke her pussy. I wonder, with what capacity for thought is left to me, how Dash is faring downstairs. He's definitely not having a night as good as I'm having.

I take my hand away, and Lane moans in disappointment, but we reconnect moments later when I grab her waist.
Enough of this.
I can't stand the agony of what she's doing to me, and it's time for a little payback. I force her out of her maddening, serpentine movements and into a bounce, until the sound of slapping flesh fills the spacious mansion room. The noise we make together just fires me up more—I feel my cock twitch inside her, and a tantalizing, molten heat starts to pool in my belly. Lane's cries of pleasure ululate, and I can hear myself egging her on as if from a distance; I'm not even sure what I'm telling her, or what I might be daring her to do. The space where our bodies meet is hot and wet, and it's sweat, not rain, that glistens like diamonds on her flushed skin.

She gives a long, drawn-out moan suddenly, and I feel her start to contract around me. She grabs for my chest, wanting to hold herself still as she rides the bliss of orgasm, but I use my strength to continue to slide her up and down my cock until she's practically quaking from the friction. Her eyes drift closed, her lips part, and she lets her head fall back, exposing the delicious milk-white expanse of her throat. I can't help myself—or rather, I feel as if I
can
help myself. Who says no to a billionaire?

I sit up beneath her, carrying us both into a sitting position as I cross my legs. I cup the back of her neck in one hand, threading the tumble of her tresses through my fingers, and kiss her throat. She shudders, even as I continue to thrust my hips, ramming into her tight, convulsing passage, until I feel myself about to join her.

"Ah!"
I groan suddenly, grabbing Lane and cementing her to me as I shoot my load inside her. My own climax rocks me explosively, and I fill her almost to bursting with my hot seed; she takes it all, crying out in surprise and unexpected pleasure, and grips my shoulders as she rides it out.

Once I've finished, I lounge back into the pillows, panting, feeling like a prince and a servant both with my queen sitting astride me. Once she's recovered herself, she slips off my spent member and tucks herself beside me, sweeping her tongue along her lips like the canary that just got one over on the cat.