Chapter 16
Chapter Sixteen
Skyler knows his way around the kitchen as well as he knows his way around a woman’s body.
Mine at least. Which he seems to have a manual for.
He’s also hot as hell in the kitchen in a pair of low slung black joggers and nothing else.
Lord, the man redefines sexy. I want to lick every tattoo. Bite those biceps. I even want to worship his feet which are sturdy and perfectly shaped.
I’m swooning over feet. How is this possible? He’s clearly intoxicated me with his cock.
Almost catching me ogling him, Skyler pivots away from the stove with two plates in his hands. Behind that thin fabric, his semi-erect cock swings and sways, making the heat between my legs simmer.
Lord. He is big. But the man knows how to use that cock with careful intent. No battering ram, although the thought of getting slammed hard by him makes my throat dry and makes me fan myself.
It feels like a whole new world to explore now that I’ve had sex. Although sex feels like such a pathetic word for what we did.
I follow him to the bed where he carries the plates and arranges himself on his side, patting the bed for me to sit down.
“What ya thinking about?” He hums as he loads his fork with a bite of perfectly cooked omelet.
My face goes instantly hot as he holds the fork up to my lips.
I chew as he watches me with those hungry, storm-blue eyes. The man can turn eating eggs into a sexual experience, for god’s sake.
“You don’t have to hold back,” He says, grinning. “Although I do think it’s adorable that you’re shy.”
“I’m not shy,” I protest.
“Really?” He lifts up his left eyebrow. “So talking about how I want to eat your pussy cream on these strawberries won’t make you hide your face.”
I do exactly that—hide my face. “Skyler!”
He chuckles, leaning up and kissing my neck. “See, I was right.”
“That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.”
His voice is husky and warm as he smiles at me. “I can be very creative.”
I eat the breakfast he made me, he grins, and watches me with so much desire that it’s getting hard to concentrate on the food.
It takes major effort to ignore the way his hand is creeping up my inner thigh, edging dangerously close to my bare pussy under the T-shirt he loaned me.
I push his hand away, laughing, but a loud knock on his door makes me jump.
“It’s okay,” he says, climbing from the bed. Before walking to the door he grabs a shirt from his closet, pulling it over his massive shoulders. Carrying his pistol to the door, he check peephole before opening it, and I know he’s doing it to make sure I’m safe.
No one has ever looked out for me before. Skyler’s protectiveness causes my throat to tighten with emotion.
They talk in low, rumbling voices. When he closes the door, his posture is tight, his eyes dark. “I don’t want to leave you here, but I need to take care of some business.”
“No vans this time, I promise.” I slide off the bed and walk toward him, surprised how much I want him to stay.
“Do you know how to use a gun?”
I give him a little eye-roll. “Did you really ask me that?”
He shakes his head, looking a little stunned. “Sorry, I’m still getting used to the idea of being with a woman who knows how to be an outlaw biker.”
It’s so weird hearing him say this, but it’s true. Ninety-nine percent of women would not get this world. No men outside of the life would believe what I’ve been through.
Suddenly he looks up at me. “Wait, do you know how to ride?”
“Skyler… of course.”
He grabs me, kissing my forehead. “You’re such a badass.”
After he hugs me, he presses a pistol into my hand. “This is the?—”
“I know. It’s the safety.”
“Keep it on you,” he says sternly.
“I will. I promise.”
He’s grumpy as he puts on his jeans, boots, and his cut. I get a lump in my throat when I read his road name. He’s only ever told me his real name, something most MC men won’t do.
“Slider,” I say, brushing my fingers over the patch. “I’m sure there’s a story there.”
“I’ll tell you all about it later.” With that he gives me grumbly smooch against my forehead and walks out the door. But not before telling me to keep all the deadbolts locked.
When he’s gone, the room feels too quiet. Memories of the man coming while I’m in the shower try to invade my head while I’m doing the dishes.
By the time I’m done, I’m feeling claustrophobic.
He didn’t say I can’t go out into the clubhouse.
He just said to keep the gun on me and keep the doors locked.
This place is probably buttoned down like a fort now after what happened.
Any MC worth their weight in leather would be on the highest state of alert.
Which means the clubhouse will be safe.
Clicking open the locks, I listen for sound in the hallway. It’s familiar—the low hum of voices of a busy MC. Some of the tension bleeds out of my shoulders.
Alright. Let’s go.