"I was gonna ask you if you wanted to help me restore the Harley. You're a top-notch mechanic. I could use your help."
A rush of adrenaline rushed through her body, and she bounced from foot to foot. "Cool. Awesome. Like over-the-top awesome." She beamed.
He nodded. "You better get going. I need the work orders. The directions to the clubhouse are up at the front counter." He dismissed her by turning his attention to the computer. She slipped out of his office.
Rereading the directions one more time, she started her bike and drove to the Insurgents' club. When she arrived, the prospect who stood by the tall chain-linked and barbed wire fence waved her in. Surmising that Hawk must have called ahead, she rode through the checkpoint and parked in the shade under an aspen tree. She opened the heavy door and entered a large room, pausing until her eyes adjusted to the dim light. The smell of weed, whiskey, and pussy enveloped her and took her back to the days when she'd meet up with her ex at the Demon Riders clubhouse. Looking around, she spotted several men smoking joints, their beers in front of them, as they watched the car races on TV. A few men and women were banging noisily on the couches that lined the back walls. Yep, just like I remembered it. Glad it's behind me.
Normally, every guy in the place would check out the new chick, but since she wore her coveralls, the men didn't pay much attention to her. With her hair wrapped up under a skull bandana, they probably thought she was a dude. Happy not to be accosted by a bunch of bikers, she walked over to the bar and tapped on it. A large tatted man ambled over.
"Where's Hawk's office? I have to pick up some work orders to take to him at the shop."
The burly man frowned at her. "You a chick? He said a chick was coming."
She squinted and whipped off her bandana, her black hair cascading down her back. "Now where's the fuckin' office?"
The bartender balked, then pointed to a hallway. "It's the third door on the left."
She lifted her chin, aware that a few of the guys stirred, seeing she was a woman after all. Normally, she would've ignored the glowering biker's comment, but she was so sick and tired of all the attitude. Working in a man's field was damn exhausting. The work itself was hard, and fending off the comments, insults, and resentment sometimes proved to be too much.
From behind her, someone said, "Fuck, that's a good shot." Throttle's smooth-as-whiskey voice slid over her and caught her attention. Slowly she pivoted, her gaze drawn to the back of the room. And there he was, bent down with a pool cue in his hand, a joint dangling out of the corner of his mouth. A busty, pretty blonde ran her fingernails down his back as he sank a ball into the far right pocket. A few of the guys watching yelled, "Way to go," or "Fuckin' good shot."
Even though Kimber knew she had to get the work orders and get back to the shop stat, she couldn't take her eyes off Throttle. The way his biceps bulged against his tanned arms when he slid the cue stick made her feel funny between her legs. His sleeveless T-shirt showed off his toned arms perfectly, and she had a strong urge to curl her hands around them and trace his hot tattoos with the tip of her tongue. As he lowered his head, his dark hair gleamed under the light from the fixture over the pool table. Dangling silver earrings moved fluidly as he tilted his head. The muscles rippling under his tank top quickened her pulse. He was gorgeous, and her body ached for his touch.
Just before his shot, he glanced up, as if sensing her; his dark orbs met her blue ones, his burning intensity holding her still. As they held each other in a smoldering gaze, it was as if no one else in the room existed. The ever-present tension and longing between them pulled them together in that one stare. With a smirk playing around the corners of his mouth, he struck the ball and it slammed into two more, pocketing all of them. The blonde beside him squealed and rubbed her big breasts against his outstretched arm before she bent down and planted a kiss on his cheek. Tucking her fingers under his chin, she tried to turn his face toward her. He shook her off, laid down the pool cue, stubbed out his joint, and headed toward Kimber, his gaze never leaving hers.
Her heart beat wildly against her rib cage as the indiscernible voices from the people around her rushed in her ears. In vain she tried to swallow, but her throat and mouth were filled with cotton. She knew she should walk away, but she couldn't; their connection grounded her, and she couldn't move even if she wanted to. Without a word, he yanked her to him, and she offered no resistance. He tilted her head back, then took her mouth with a savage intensity. Instead of backing out of his embrace, her trembling limbs clung to him as he rammed his tongue into her mouth, its writhing and pushing motions sending a burst of passion through her from the tips of her breasts to her aching sex.
After what seemed like forever, Throttle pulled back, winked, and sauntered back to the pool table. Picking up his cue amid whistles and hoots, he prepared for the next shot.
Kimber, wild-eyed and panting, watched him as the blonde sized her up. With all her strength, she forced herself to move, taking a few shaky steps to Hawk's office. Once she left the great room, she was safe from his magnetic pull; she gathered up the work orders, held her chin high, and reentered the main room. She glanced furtively at the pool table, but Throttle was gone. Scanning the room, she didn't spot him. Disappointment crawled through her. Quit being such a fool. It's a good thing he's gone. He's such an arrogant SOB. She left the clubhouse, happy to be out in the sunshine and away from Throttle's presence.
After she placed the files in the saddlebags, she swung her leg over her Harley. Gathering her hair up, she coiled it on top of her head and covered it with her bandana once more.
"Figures you have a pink Harley." Throttle's voice startled her.
"You've seen it before," she said curtly.
"I was gonna mention it then, but we got kinda … sidetracked." He slowly ran his finger from her earlobe down to her collarbone. She sucked in her breath.
"I gotta go. Hawk's waiting for me to give him some papers." She put on her sunglasses, relieved that he couldn't see the arousal in her eyes.
"What's up with all the pink shit?"
She shrugged. "It's my favorite color."
"Guess what mine is."
"I don't know. Black?"
"Nah." He leaned in close and ran his tongue down her neck. "Pussy pink has become my favorite. Yours in particular."
Red stained her cheeks, and she pulled back. "I gotta go."
"Really?" He flashed her a boyish, lopsided smile, the kind that women went mad for, and her stomach fluttered. He brushed his lips against her ear and she shivered despite the ninety-seven-degree temperature. "My cock wants back in your pussy. Don't tell me you don't want that too."
She pushed him back and switched on her bike. Kimber had to get far away from him before she lost herself forever. She had plans; a relationship with Throttle wasn't possible. Sex with him wasn't either because if she let him back in, she'd be forever hooked on him, and she couldn't allow that to happen. "I told you that night was a mistake."
"Babe, a woman doesn't kiss a man like you just did if our fucking was a mistake."
"I have to go."
"All right, ride your pretty little ass outta here on your pink Harley. I'll wait until you come to me. There's no way in hell you'll ever be satisfied with any other man."
"You're pretty sure of yourself, you cocky bastard."
He laughed. "Damn straight."
"Well, if you wait for me to contact you, you'll be old, wrinkled, and bald."
He put his arm around her and pressed her against him, then lowered his head and kissed her hard and rough. Just the way she liked it. A small moan escaped through her parted lips, and she hated her body for betraying her like that.
He released her and chuckled. "Like I said, babe. I'll be waiting when you want a good fucking."
Anger curled around her nerves as she watched him swagger back inside, leaving her aching for his touch. She revved the engine and peeled out of the parking lot, wanting to create as much distance as she could between them.
He's dangerous because he knows the effect he has on me.
Damnit!
* * *
The minute Throttle came back in, his brothers were on him for kissing the chick in coveralls. Rock laid down his pool stick, went up to him, and punched him in the arm. "Is that the woman mechanic at Hawk's shop?"