Chapter 8
CHAPTER EIGHT
JENNIE
Bridger steps out onto the deck. I’m assuming doing a scan of the woods that surrounds us for any threat. I don’t see anything, but I’m not a badass biker who is used to danger. He lights up a cigarette nonchalantly and leans against the railing like he doesn’t have a care in the world.
My heart pounds in my chest as I tear my gaze from him and return to my story, unable to focus. I force myself to put my fingers on my keyboard and type out some notes from where I want the story to go in the next few chapters.
After what feels like an eternity, he finally puts out his cigarette and steps back inside to wash his hands.
I close down my computer and ask if he saw anything, and he informs me that it was a false alarm. I’m happy my eyes are playing tricks on me. The last thing I need in my life is my creepy stalker showing up and interrupting whatever is happening between us. As though he can read my mind, Bridger says, “I think we both comprehend there’s something happening between us.” His strong fingers grip the belt loops of my jeans as he pulls me close to his body, his earthy and tobacco scent envelopes me.
“Um,” I whisper, both sure and unsure if right now is the right timing. I want Bridger to kiss me more than I’ve ever wanted anything. But I grasp that kissing him could prove to be a grave distraction.
“Don’t get shy on me now, Jennie.” His fingers stroke the underside of my chin before pinching to shift my head up to meet his gaze.
I should stop this now. I want the fairytale, though. For once I want to be the heroine who gets the hot bad boy.
Firm and sweet, his lips descend on mine. His tongue presses against the seam of my lips, demanding entrance, and I open to him. Sliding his tongue into my mouth, Bridger dominates the kiss with utter perfection. It’s everything I’ve dreamed of more. I moan into his mouth, craving so much more.
He pulls back, breaking the moment all too soon.
“Let’s eat.”
“Yeah. Okay,” I agree. Dizziness swims in my head, and I grip the counter to steady myself.
That kiss was something out of this world.
After a few moments of recovery, I manage to pull myself back together long enough to join Bridger at the kitchen table. He’s already plated our burgers, with the mushrooms and onions sauteed to perfection, and melted provolone oozing over the meat.
I take my seat and splash a little steak sauce on mine while he puts a handful of plain chips on each of our plates. I bite into my juicy burger, practically groaning like I’m having an orgasm of the mouth while he cracks open a beer, watching me with an amused and proud smile. The food is delicious, and yet I can’t taste anything beyond the lingering warmth of his lips on mine. Every bite is filled with the memory of his tongue exploring my mouth. Every sip of my pop is flavored by my intense desire to have him kiss me again.
We mostly eat with him filling the silent moments with talk about his club brothers and an upcoming charity ride they are doing to raise money for the elderly for Christmas. I don’t offer up much about my life because there isn’t much to tell. My life revolves around the fictional ones I create.
After we finish eating, he clears the table while I move to the sink to wash the dishes. It’s only fair I do them since he was nice enough to cook. As I scrub away at the plates and pans, I feel his presence behind me. He’s standing closer than necessary, close enough for me to feel the heat of his body.
“Babe. Them dishes can soak for a bit. C’mere,” he orders, twisting me toward him.
My wet hands land on his chest.
“You gonna be cool if I sleep on your couch tonight?”
“Mhmm,” I mumble, unable to focus on his words. My mind is on his lips doing other things.
“Good. I’m liking this,” he points between us, “a lot.”
“Me too,” I agree, as he angles his head to the side. His mouth hits mine for the second hottest kiss of my life. I cradle my arms around his neck as he lifts me onto the counter.
He takes his gun out of the waistband of his pants, placing it off to the side of me. “I don’t need this right now,” he whispers against my lips.
“Nope, you don’t.”
He kisses me harder and deeper. Hot. Wet. With lots of tongue.
Right when things are getting good, the glass of the back door shatters and the electricity to the cabin cuts off.
Fuck my life.