Possession(Sons of Odin MC)(8)
“Conveniently forgot to bring the crutches?”
She’d never been under any illusions about Vincent. For a minute she considered exactly what intrigued her the most. His steely blue eyes and thick lashes? Or his blade-like nose and sensuous lips? Next she studied his impeccably trimmed goatee, which did nothing but draw attention to his mouth. Physically appealing in every way, but inside he seemed conflicted, like something boiled just below the surface. Even when he smiled, his eyes were sad.
He was dressed in dark jeans with a muscle shirt underneath his vest, and she focused on his front patches. Less prominent than the ones on his back, she didn’t like the one near his right shoulder—Snitches are a dying breed. Men like him harbored secrets and did things she disapproved of. As an attorney, she often represented defendants from his background. But the man outside his club affiliation interested her most. His wit and infectious smile, the dedicated father and friend. What she’d give to get to know that man.
“Ready?” He stepped closer and opened up his arms.
She willingly crawled into them, happy to find another excuse to be so close to him. She laid her cheek against his chest, his heartbeat strong and steady.
They passed by several closed doors in the hallway. “It’s so quiet,” Tina said.
“One of the benefits of the members being gone on business. I’ve learned to appreciate the rare minutes of peace around here.”
“And all this time I thought you were an extrovert.”
“I am, most of the time.”
“Can’t handle the spotlight?” she asked playfully, purposely challenging him.
“If I couldn’t handle the attention, I wouldn’t wear the patches.”
She chuckled, liking the gruffness in his masculine voice, the air of complete control. Tina knew better, though. She’d pushed him to the edge months ago, seen him fight against what his mind and body craved. She should know—because she wanted the same thing. Him. In all his biker glory.
“Can I have a kiss?” she asked, gazing up at him.
Vincent stopped abruptly. “Here? Now?”
Tina pretended to assess their whereabouts. “Why not? All I see is an empty corridor. Afraid we might get caught smooching?”
He huffed, his eyes meeting hers. “You’re a pain in the ass.”
She nodded in agreement, sighing as his mouth lowered onto hers. Chaste and quick, his lips barely brushed across hers. But she still caught a hint of his heated breath and felt the tension in his body. She wanted more.
They emerged in the main room, the smell of freshly brewed coffee in the air. But no one appeared to be in the kitchen or in the living room.
A short while later Tina was seated at the dining room table, Vincent serving her a plate of scrambled eggs and sliced cantaloupe. Not exactly her breakfast of choice, but she liked him in domestic mode. Two young sons had molded him into a capable caregiver.
“Where is everyone?”
“Doc left early, the Prospects are already at work, and the old ladies are still asleep. We’re alone again.”
“Are you taking me home after we eat?” she asked.
He claimed the spot next to her, sliding her cup of coffee within reach. “Unless you’d rather take a ride to Portland with me.”
She mixed a spoonful of sugar and a splash of milk into her java and took a sip. “Pleasure or business?”
“Both.” He leaned closer. “It’s a beautiful morning; we can stop at Sunset Lake and go bird-watching.”
“On crutches?” She could see the sun through the wall of windows on the backside of the clubhouse. Maybe a day of sightseeing and relaxation was exactly what she needed.
“We can stay on the boardwalk and search for shorebirds on the tidal flats. If you have any trouble getting around, I’ll transport you.” He smiled.
So this behemoth enjoyed the outdoors? She’d have never guessed. Maybe fishing or hunting, but bird-watching? It just didn’t fit. “What species do you like most?”
“Great blue herons are my favorite, but I enjoy black skimmers, northern pintails, and brown boobies.”
“Brown boobies?” she repeated on a giggle like a kid saying a forbidden word.
“Absolutely.” He presented her with a well-worn copy of the National Audubon Society Field Guide to North American Birds. He flipped it open and pointed to a picture. “See? Get your mind out of the gutter, Tina.”
Squat with chocolate and white feathers and yellow feet—he hadn’t made it up. “Okay, I’m in. Do you have an extra pair of binoculars?”
“Sure do.”
Finished eating, Vincent cleared the dishes, then brought over the aluminum crutches. “Let’s give these a try. I can adjust the height if you’re uncomfortable.”