All I can think is it must be leftover sexual frustration from last night. But that doesn’t explain why she’s been on my mind for every second of the past twelve hours.
“I’m so glad it’s everything you expected,” she’s saying to a couple of men she’s talking to, one a douche in a suit, the other a burly biker with a beard to his waist who looks like he’s straight out of an old-school biker gang. One-hundred-percent accurate descriptions because I know these jokers personally.
“Red,” I say smoothly, sidling up next to her and slinging my arm around her shoulders, “what are you doing hanging out with these assholes?”
Ginger turns to me, her eyes huge, while the suit grimaces.
“Blaze,” he says, his voice dripping with disdain. “Why am I not surprised to see you here?”
I grin but don’t look at him. “I don’t know, Alex. Maybe because you’re only here because of me.”
Letting my fingers trail over Ginger’s smooth skin, I wink at her. “When you’re done over here, why don’t you come with me?”
Alex holds a card out to Ginger, drawing her attention away from me—which pisses me the fuck off—and says, “Think about what I said. I think you’d be a good fit.”
She smiles at him, like a real deal kind of smile, and I grit my teeth. I don’t know what the fuck they’re talking about, but he is not a guy she needs to be talking to. I know that much.
I pull her away, her hand clasped in mine, and drag her around a corner to a little alcove that leads to some offices. When I stop and turn her around, pushing her back up against the wall, caging between my arms, her eyes cloud with that same mix of confusion and desire that seems to undo me.
“What are you doing here?” she says.
I laugh. “At a bike show? That should be fairly obvious.”
She bites her lip. “Looking for a replacement?”
“Something like that.”
Then because I can’t take it any longer, I lean in, dipping my head down for a taste of those luscious lips that I haven’t stopped thinking about since last night.
She sucks in a surprised breath, and I take the opportunity to slip my tongue inside, needing to taste more of her.
That seems to do it because all of a sudden her arms are around my neck, and she’s kissing me back.
10
Ginger
I don’t even care what he’s doing here or how he just dragged me away from my job and shoved me into the corner. All I can bother caring about right now is the way Blaze’s body is totally commanding mine.
His tongue works me over, ravishing my mouth, rough strokes that indicate he’s not the gentle type showing me exactly what it would be like to be stroked by other parts of him.
I moan, wanting that so badly I can hardly think. I twist my fingers into his shaggy hair, pulling his head harder to mine, needing more of this near-violent assault on my body.
Blaze pushes his hips forward, his thick erection pressing against my belly, and I push back, wanting more friction. Wanting more everything.
He growls as he tears his mouth from mine, dragging his teeth down my throat in a movement that causes an exhilarating rush of pleasure mixed with pain.
More.
I don’t realize I’ve said it out loud until he chuckles against my neck, then says, “As you wish, darlin’.”
He moves a hand to my shirt, dragging down the edge of it, exposing my tattoo of a rose in a bed of thorns. Tracing a finger over it, he lifts his eyes to mine and grins. “Nice.”
His lips follow his finger, tracing my tat with his tongue while his hand drops lower, gripping my breast and kneading it roughly. There is nothing gentle about this man. And that has me so wet I can barely stand it.
I grind against him again, and the next thing I know, he’s hauling me up against him, hoisting me up until I wrap my legs around his waist. Then he starts walking. I don’t even care where he takes me as long as he keeps touching me like he is.
I hear the click of a door, then the sound of it slamming behind us, and the next thing I know Blaze is laying me out on a desk. I look around and realize it’s my co-worker’s office. One who won’t be here this weekend.
Part of me thinks I need to put on the breaks. Blaze is not the kind of guy who goes slow. I can tell if he wants something, he’ll take it. And right now he wants to take me.
But I don’t want to stop. I want him to take me right up to the edge and then fly right over.
“Blaze,” I whimper, my hips squirming as I watch him shrug out of his leather jacket and hover over me, his intent clear in his eyes.
“Do you want this, Ginger?”
Despite never having done something so wild, so reckless, before in my life, I realize that I do. I want him, and I want him now.