8. Kelsey
Kelsey
After tossing the empty bottle into the blue recycling container under the sink, Kelsey slumped over the counter, resting her elbows on it and covering her face with her hands. She had a biker in her living room. For how long? She hadn’t exactly put a timeframe on his invitation.
Blowing out a breath, she righted herself. While this arrangement wasn’t the best idea, she felt safer having him there. Kev promised he wouldn’t do anything. She didn’t know why she believed him, but she did. So far, he’d been true to that word. He’d gone above and beyond.
Then why was she nervous?
Assuming her anxiety was because Pete ripped her shirt off was logical, except that wasn’t it. She wasn’t afraid. This was something completely different.
She felt an anticipation—an excitement.
Shoving that thought out of her brain, she reached for the handle of the refrigerator. She couldn’t hide out here like she had in her bedroom. Abandoning him in her own apartment was rude as hell.
Get it together. This wasn’t any different from having a friend over. While she didn’t know him beyond his nickname, that didn’t mean she had to behave strangely. This wasn’t the first time she’d brought a random guy home from the bar.
Granted, the circumstances were a little different.
Weren’t they?
As she grabbed another bottle of beer for him, and one of water for herself, she shook that idea away. She had to stop thinking that way. With a twist of the cap, she opened the brew. Nothing would happen tonight. Not with a biker. She had standards.
Didn’t she?
For fuck’s sake.
Kelsey had to get out of her head.
Beverages in hand, she rolled her shoulders back and lifted her chin. The sound of a late-night commercial filled the air as she marched into her living room. Kev had settled in alright. Holding the remote, pointing it at the television, he tapped at buttons.
“Do you have Netflix?” he asked.
“I use my friend’s login,” she admitted as she sat beside him and offered him his drink.
With a heavy beat of a drum, the Netflix logo popped onto her screen.
“Got it,” he announced proudly. Wearing a grin, he accepted the beer from her. “Thanks.”
This close, in proper lighting, she got a better look at him. His beard was large but not unkempt. She could smell the oils he used in it. An aroma of sandalwood and teak filled her nostrils, making her smile in appreciation.
His head was shaved with a bit of a fade on the sides and thick dark hair on top. This man took pride in his appearance, way more than Pete had, and he wasn’t even on a date with her.
As though he could feel her gaze appreciating him, he turned toward her. Gifting her a toothy smile, he lifted his arm and wrapped it around her. With a quick tug, he brought her body up against his. An inferno blazed against her skin.
Out of habit, or reflex, she dropped her head to his shoulder and snuggled against him. There was an ease about him that soothed her. The previous events of the evening felt as though they were years behind her rather than less than an hour ago.
Kev was safe.
His fingers trailed up and down her arm as he took a swig of his beer. Her skin tingled beneath his touch. Her nipples hardened into tight peaks. Thankfully, the padding in her bra meant they weren’t on full display.
She could only take so much embarrassment in one evening.
As he flicked through the shows in her watch history, she reveled in the comfort of being beside him.
She couldn’t remember the last time she’d cuddled with someone on her couch—or any sofa for that matter.
She’d been single for a year or two now, and the few men she’d dated since weren’t all that impressive.
This was nice.
“Oh!” he exclaimed and squeezed her. “I love this show!”
Perking up, she shifted her focus to the screen to figure out what program he meant.
As she did, he put the remote down and twisted to face her. He pressed a gentle kiss to her temple.
The two of them froze. Rigid bodies against each other.
What was that? He’d done it before, but why?
Slowly, she twisted, still in his hold but now facing him.
Their eyes met.
Dark, gentle pools of brown met her blues. A heat burned behind those irises. One that had her core smoldering. Her tongue slid along her bottom lip as her focus drifted down, toward his—nearly hidden with his beard.
His free hand rested on her cheek as he leaned in, bringing his face closer to hers. His facial hair bristled against her skin. Her pussy clenched in need.
Jesus Christ, this man.
His fingers slid along her skin until they rested on the back of her neck. Her heart hammered. A shudder rippled through her.
“May I?” he asked.
“Yes,” she whispered.