Elle was prepared for him, for the unnerving effect he had on her, but even still his warm, dark eyed gaze swept over her with the force of a speeding train leaving a burning tingling in its wake. She had to take two more deep breaths before she could get her legs moving again, but after a long moment she was once more standing in front of the scratched and scarred bar. She ran her hand over the uneven surface, her fingers finding each crack, each gauge in the dark wood.
"What can I get you?"
Elle jumped at the sound of his voice, much too close, and definitely much too familiar, "What?" She said, hating the breathlessness in her voice.
"To drink?" he smiled at her then, that lopsided grin that tugged up one corner of his lush, far too kissable lips and had his dimples winking at her from the edge of his cheeks, "Unless, of course, there's something … else … that you have in mind?" He leaned even closer as he spoke, his voice dropping an octave as his words melted over her and she just stared at him for a long moment desperately trying to get her thoughts out of the gutter he'd just flung them into and back to the mission at hand. Namely, don't fall for any more of Honey's tricks.
"Um, anything is fine," She saw his grin widen lasciviously and hurried to clarify, "to drink. Anything is fine to drink. No – nothing else."
"Whatever you want, Elle," he said with a shrug and a devilish look in his melting gaze, "Your wish is my command."
She snorted loudly at that before turning away, missing the way his eyes followed her even as he made her cocktail and served the other biker's that wandered up to the bar for another refill. Elle let her gaze wander around the packed clubhouse, feeling claustrophobia settle around her once more as her pulse raced and her head pounded, the urge to flee filling her. She needed to be someplace quiet, someplace alone, somewhere … that wasn't in the middle of a group of a rough and tumble hard partying biker gang and definitely far, far away from –
"Are you ready for your Screaming Orgasm?" Honey's voice, low and sultry, bit into her thoughts, tearing them to shreds as she turned to him with a gasp.
"Excuse me?" Elle said, hearing the prim edge to her own voice but knowing there was no way to stop it. There was also no way to stop the bright red flush she could feel burning across the pale skin of her cheeks. Honey just grinned at her, nodding once at the tumbler full of liquor he set in front of her, but his eyes never once leaving hers and the heat in his gaze only added to her blush.
"Your drink. It's called a Screaming Orgasm," Honey leaned closer then, "I made it especially for you. Go on," his expression fell for moment, turning cynical, "I'm sure you haven't tasted one of those in a long time. About, oh, six months or so, am I right?"
"What are you – Why, you despicable – You are a bastard, Honey," Elle spluttered as his words washed over her and the blush tinging her cheeks crimson morphed from one of desire to one of mortification. It was made even worse by the fact that he was right. She shoved the glass back towards him, spilling most of the liquid on the bar, and some on him. It wasn't enough. She should have thrown the damn thing in his face.
He knew damn well the last time she'd had an orgasm, because it had been Honey who had given it to her. It had been one glorious moment, and the biggest mistake of her life. At least she hadn't slept with him. It hadn't gone that far. But it had gone far enough. Too far for her own peace of mind, or the peace of her dreams, either.
Ever since that hurried, fumbling moment in the dark, full of adrenaline and waiting to find out if Carla and Joel's plan to bring down Maurice had worked and she had given in to him, her dreams had been tortured by visions of him. Of them together. And then he had to go and throw it in her face. Well, she didn't have to stand there and take it.
Elle turned away sharply, starting to storm away but his words stopped her, spoken so softly it was a wonder she heard them at all through the noise of the party but she did. She heard them, and she felt them shudder all the way through her.
"You know, whenever you're ready, Elle, I'm here. I'll wait as long as I need to. I'm not going anywhere."
She didn't turn back, she didn't answer him. She couldn't. Her throat was tight and her chest felt like it was about to burst. She couldn't breathe. She had to get out of there, now. Elle had almost made it back towards the front door when her friend's voice reached her.
"Hey, Elle, where are you going?" Carla asked, appearing in front of her.
"I … I have to go, Carla. I'm sorry, I … I just have to go." With those broken words still hanging in the air and Carla looking at her with confusion shining in hereyes, Elle fled.
***
Honey watched her, his eyes never leaving the stiff line of her back as she shoved her way towards the exit. He sighed, shaking his head at himself, at his own stupidity. He couldn't just say Hi, Elle. It's great to see you again. You look absolutely beautiful tonight. And she had.
With her long natural blond hair falling in waves like silk, contrasting with her dark eyes that stared at him like they could see all the way through him. From the first moment Carla had brought her into the bar, since the first moment he'd met her, he'd been entranced by her eyes. So dark, so mysterious. They saw everything, and at the same time, hid everything. Her thoughts, her emotions. She was so damned hard to read. Well, not tonight. Her anger had been more than apparent.
Honey shook his head again. Why couldn't he have just said something nice, something simple? But no, he had to go and open his big mouth and push her, tease her, knowing damn well it would only stiffen her back even more. Speaking of stiff, he adjusted himself as surreptitiously as he could behind the bar.
All it took was to be in the same room as her and his body responded, tightening, drawing to attention as memories flooded him. Memories of that one, breathless moment in the pitch black broom closet in the back of the bar. He had known then it would be a mistake, but he'd been desperate for any taste of her, any touch. And he'd gotten more than that.
Every time he closed his eyes he could feel the way she'd ridden his hand, the sound of her panting breath broken and desperate in his ears as she came, her body writhing in the most exquisite agony. It had been so dark in the cramped closet that he hadn't even gotten to see her, not that they had even taken the time to shed any clothes. He'd just hitched the skirt of her calf length dress up to her waist, feeling her sweet curves in the dark. Feeling her move against him.
And then, as quick as the storm had struck, it was gone. She'd mumbled something, drawing away enough to put her clothes back to rights and then she had fled, leaving him standing there dumbstruck and in more pain than he could ever remember being. The type of pain that no amount of cold showers would cure.
He groaned under his breath as his body rose to attention once more at the bittersweet memories, memories that had haunted his dreams since that night. Because the truth was, it had been a stab in the dark that Elle hadn't had an orgasm since that day, but he knew for a fact that he hadn't slept with anyone. Sure, he'd spent plenty of nights, just him, his memories of her, and his fist, but he didn't count that. No, he hadn't had any. Not for six long months, the longest dry spell he'd had since he hit puberty, and it wasn't for lack of opportunity.
There were always club chicks and biker groupies who were more than willing, and in the past, he would have been happy to oblige them. But something had happened that night with Elle and the thought of sex with anyone else just left him feeling … empty. Unsatisfied.
Honey grimaced as he cleaned up the spilled liquor, downing the rest of her untouched drink in one gulp. It was probably the closest he would come to a screaming orgasm until he could untangle this Elle situation. The only problem? He had no clue at all where to begin. She was so different than all the other women he knew. His charm had no effect on her. She was kind, gentle, and sweet, but with an edge to her that turned him on like nothing else. She was … clean, untouched by the gritty underworld that he'd lived in for so long. She was unattainable.
He groaned again, pouring himself another drink as his thoughts ran in circles and he drank it down gratefully when a thought occurred to him. Copious amounts of alcohol. Maybe that would do the trick. Maybe then he would have one night where he didn't wake up sweating and hard and desperate for the one woman who didn't want anything to do with him. Elle Watson.
Chapter 1
" … Please, Elle. I'm begging you here," Carla's voice pleaded over the phone, "I'm drowning out at the farm. I just need some extra hands – "
"Carla, I know absolutely nothing about farming, or running a farm, or marijuana for that matter. You're the botanist, not me," Elle huffed as she dried the last floral patterned tea cup and put it back in its place in her white lacquered kitchen cabinet, "I'm a piano teacher, for pete's sake!"