Chapter Fifteen #2
His hand tightened in my hair and the kiss deepened. I curled my fingers harder into his shirt, barely noticing the motorcycle cooling behind us or how quiet the road had become. And the very obvious evidence that I wasn’t the only one getting worked up.
We finally broke apart. Barely.
His forehead rested against mine and both of us were breathing hard. “Still want me inside?” he asked.
I stared at him. “That is a very stupid question.”
He grinned. “Keys.”
“Right.” I dug into my purse and my hands were shaking. I found the keys and hurried toward the porch.
Bone followed.
I reached the door and attempted to put the key into the lock.
Missed.
“Shit.”
Bone moved in behind me and his hands landed on my hips.
I missed again.
“You’re not helping,” I muttered.
“Not trying to.”
His mouth touched the side of my neck.
I sucked in a breath. “Bone.”
“Door, Hazel.”
“I’m trying.”
He kissed the spot beneath my ear.
“You are absolutely doing that on purpose,” I breathed out.
“Open the door.”
I finally got the key into the lock. “Ha.”
Bone laughed against my neck.
I shoved the door open and we stumbled inside. I barely had time to toss my purse toward the little table before Bone kicked the door shut behind us.
Then his hands were on me again.
His mouth found mine and I wrapped my arms around his neck.
We bumped into the wall, and I laughed against his mouth. “Ow.”
“Sorry.”
“You don’t sound sorry.”
“I’m not.” He kissed me again.
Bone’s cut came off and landed over the back of a chair as we passed. He handled that one with considerably more care than we’d shown anything else, then his mouth was on mine again.
My fingers found the bottom of his shirt, and I tugged. Bone pulled back long enough to drag it over his head.
My brain stalled. Holy hell.
I’d known he was built. There was no hiding that under a T-shirt. Seeing it, though, was something else.
Broad chest. Hard stomach. Ink everywhere.
I reached for him, but Bone caught my wrist. For half a second, I thought he was stopping me.
Then he pressed my palm flat against his chest.
His eyes stayed on mine and I ran my hand down. His stomach tightened beneath my fingers.
“Bedroom,” he said.
“That way.”
We made it about three steps, then Bone kissed me again.
I laughed when we bumped into the hallway wall. “At this rate, we’re never making it.”
“Quit distracting me.”
“Me?”
“Yeah, you.”
“You’re the one who keeps kissing me,” I pointed out.
“Exactly.”
That didn’t make any sense. I didn’t care.
My shirt disappeared somewhere in the hallway. I wasn’t sure who took it off. Maybe me. Maybe Bone.
My shoes went next.
We finally stumbled through my bedroom doorway.
No lights, only moonlight coming through the window.
Bone’s hands closed around my waist.
“What are you—” He lifted me, and I let out a squeal. “Bone!”
He tossed me onto the mattress and I bounced once, then twice. I couldn’t help but laugh. “Really?”
He stood at the foot of my bed. “Problem?”
“No.” Definitely no problem.
Bone bent and pulled off one boot. Then the other.
I stopped laughing.
His hands went to his belt.
I shoved myself up and quickly worked my jeans and underwear down my legs, kicking them toward the floor. Then I wiggled out of my bra. There was no need for any clothes. By the time I settled back on my elbows, Bone had his belt undone.
His chest and arms were covered in tattoos, the ink wrapping over thick muscle and disappearing around his shoulders. His beard made the hard lines of his face look even rougher in the low light.
Then his jeans and underwear dropped. My mouth went dry.
Bone stepped out of them.
He looked exactly like what he was. A man who worked with his hands. Rode motorcycles, built coffins, ran a motorcycle club, and clearly knew exactly what he was doing to me because his eyes tracked over my face and that damn smirk appeared.
“What?” he asked.
I slowly shook my head. “Nothing.”
Bone dropped onto the bed with a heavy exhale that rattled the lamp on my nightstand.
He propped himself up on an elbow, running a hand along the edge of my jaw, his thumb tracing the place where my skin had flushed so red I felt like I might combust. I stared at the veins in his forearm, thick ropes running under ink.
He was silent, eyes glinting in dim light, and I waited, not sure if he expected me to move first. I didn’t need to wait long.
Bone wrapped his hand around my throat. Not tight, but enough that my breath caught. Then his mouth was on mine again, his beard scraping my skin as I grabbed onto him.
He rolled, pulling me with him so I landed straddling his hips.
The comforter bunched under my knees. He was already hard, pressing up hot against me where my thighs bracketed him.
I slid my fingers through the scruff on his face.
He caught my wrists, pushed them up above my head, and just held me there.
A shiver ran through me when he held my wrists over my head, and Bone watched me under his heavy lids. He didn’t say anything, just studied me.
He rolled his hips beneath me and I sucked in a breath, as my thighs tightened around him. Bone’s mouth curled at the edges, and he let go of one of my wrists to drag his callused palm down between my breasts, lingering at my ribs.
His lips moved over my throat before his tongue traced my collarbone and I ground down against him. I needed him now.
He flipped me, manhandling me so I was face down on the bed. I gasped at the sudden stretch of empty space under me, but Bone’s hand was already flattening into the small of my back, and his other hand urging me up onto my knees.
I pressed my face into the pillow, breathing in the scent of clean cotton. Bone’s hand stayed firm against my back, not pushing, just there. “Okay?” he asked, and I loved that he asked, loved that his voice had gone rough but not cruel.
“Yeah,” I whispered, and I was surprised by how true it felt. “I’m okay.”
His hand moved slowly down my spine before settling on my hip. I felt the shift of the mattress as he moved behind me, felt the heat of him radiating close, closer. My heart hammered against my ribs, but it wasn’t fear.
When he entered me, it was gradual. A steady pressure that built and built until I had to remember to breathe. I gripped the sheets, knuckles white, and he paused, trembling with the effort of holding back.
“Hazel.” My name came out broken. “Tell me—”
“Don’t stop,” I said, and I meant it.
He didn’t. He started slow, giving me time to adjust before his thrusts grew harder. I gripped the sheets as a moan slipped out of me. The angle had him hitting a spot that made my legs shake.
Bone’s hand slid from my hip to my stomach, pulling me up until my back arched against his chest. He was everywhere then, surrounding me, his mouth finding the curve of my shoulder, my neck. His other hand moved between my legs, and I cried out at the sudden spark of pleasure, sharp and unexpected.
“That’s it,” he murmured against my skin. “Let go for me, sweetheart.”
I didn’t know I was close until I was there, until my whole body tightened around him. He groaned, actually groaned, his rhythm faltering before he found it again, harder now, chasing his own release.
When Bone came, he buried his face against my neck and groaned my name. His arms tightened around me while we both tried to catch our breath.
For a long moment, neither of us moved. Then he eased us down onto the bed, still tangled together, and pulled the blanket over us with his free hand.
“You good?” he asked again, quieter now.
I turned my body to face him. His eyes soft in a way I hadn’t seen before.
“Yeah,” I said, and smiled. “I’m good.”
He traced my jaw with one finger, then he kissed my forehead, gentle, and pulled me closer.
I sank into the mattress and listened to the big, ragged drag of his breath.
I waited for him to move. For the mood to change. For him to suddenly remember this was supposed to be casual.
He didn’t.
Instead, his hand moved slowly over my back. “You sure you’re good?” he asked.
I nodded against his chest. “Yeah.”
“Sure?”
I lifted my head. “Are you fishing for compliments?”
“No.”
“Because you seem very concerned about your performance.”
His hand landed on my ass.
I squealed. “Bone!”
“Keep talking.”
I laughed and dropped my head back.
His hand moved away from my ass eventually, but his palm stayed draped over my side like he didn’t trust me not to roll off the bed.
I wondered if he could feel how fast my pulse was still racing beneath my skin. I knew I had to look like a complete mess.
I let out a shaky breath and sank deeper into the mattress.
I expected him to move. To roll away, grab his clothes, and turn what had just happened into exactly what it was supposed to be, a hot night between two people who wanted each other.
Except Bone didn’t move.
If anything, his arm tightened around me. I stared into the darkness, trying not to smile.
Interesting.