Fire Inside

Prologue Complicated

Hopper “Hop” Kincaid watched her wind through the loud, rowdy, drunk bikers and their groupies, heading his way.

Lanie Heron.

He didn’t move. He kept leaning against the post that held up the roof over the patio area of the Compound, holding a beer and watching her move.

Jesus, she was one serious class act. Even when she came to the Compound to shoot pool or to a hog roast, communing with the brethren of the Chaos Motorcycle Club, she didn’t dress down. Designer gear, head-to-toe. She looked like a fucking model except better because she was real, right there, walking right to him, her eyes locked to his.

She was also one serious messed-up bitch.

This was not simply because the woman was pure drama. Fuck, he’d seen her create a scene when the diet cherry 7Up she was pouring fizzed over the top of the glass.

No, Lanie Heron was messed up because she stood by her man.

Under normal circumstances, Hopper would find that an admirable trait in any woman mostly because he knew by experience it was a rare one.

It was not admirable with Lanie.

This was because, before Lanie’s man Elliott Belova got shot to death, Belova had been even more messed up than she was. The proof of this was he was now very dead, and she had scars from the bullets her dead fiancé bought her, because he wanted to give her some crazy-ass, out-of-season flowers for their wedding and he got involved with the Russian Mob to do it.

The fucking Russian Mob.

For flowers.

Not messed up, fucked up.

Before it all went down, Lanie found out about her man working for the Mob. Being a woman, of course, first, she busted his balls. Then she made a tremendously bad decision and stood by him even after his shit got her kidnapped. Then she watched him die and nearly got herself killed in the process.

Fucked up. Your old man gets involved with the Russian Mob; this gets your ass kidnapped; once you get rescued you kick him to the curb. No question. You just do it.

You don’t go on the lam with him and get yourself shot.

Hop watched Lanie move his way thinking all of this, and at the same time thinking about the moment he first saw her. It was the night she found out her old man was making whacked decisions in order to buy her flowers. Even though, at the time, she was in full-blown drama mode—for once her drama being understandable—the second Hop saw her years ago, he’d thought she was definitely one fine piece of ass.

Watching her come his way, he had not changed his mind.

She was not his thing, normally. Too tall, too skinny, a nice ass but not enough of it for his usual taste. Also not enough tits and way too put together with her designer jeans and high-heeled boots that had to cost a fucking mint.

But there was no denying her glossy, long, dark hair was fucking gorgeous. And her green eyes defined what Hop always thought was a stupid as shit saying but in her case, it was true: She had bedroom eyes. The kind of eyes any man with a functioning dick would want staring into his as he was moving inside her.

Fuck, her eyes were amazing.

After she nearly lost her life standing by her man, she’d taken off, moved from Denver to be close to her family in Connecticut, and she’d stayed there for a while licking her wounds. This while lasted too long, according to Tyra, Lanie’s best friend and old lady to Kane “Tack” Allen, the president of Hop’s motorcycle club, the Chaos MC. Tyra, known to the boys as “Cherry”, flew out to Connecticut, reamed Lanie’s ass, and hauled it back to Denver.

Lanie set herself up again in house and job and now she was a staple at Chaos gatherings mostly because she was Tyra’s best friend. Also because the brothers liked looking at her so they didn’t mind her being around, and even Hop had to admit her frequent dramas were pretty damned funny (when they weren’t annoying). You had to give credit to anyone who was who they were no matter who was around and that was pure Lanie. She was Lanie; she didn’t water that down and she didn’t care what anyone thought of her.

This was the way of the biker, letting it all hang out, so men like Hop and his brothers could appreciate it.

That said, freaking out because your 7Up overflowed was over the top. Still, a bitch as gorgeous as Lanie Heron… fuck, you’d watch her sitting around and watching TV. Having a fit over spilled soda was definitely worthwhile. Especially if she did it like she did it, jumping around so that hair was swinging, those eyes flashing, and what little tits and ass she had moving right along with her.

As she got close, Hop tore his eyes off her and looked through the crowd.

Neither Tack nor Cherry were anywhere to be seen. This was not a surprise. It was late; things were getting rowdy but that wasn’t why those two had disappeared. Hop knew they were either on Tack’s bike going back up the mountain to their house or they were in his room at the Compound. They were married, had been together awhile; neither of them were anywhere near their twenties, they had two young boys, but still, they went at each other like teenagers.

This also wasn’t a surprise. Tyra did have tits and ass, lots of hair and a serious amount of sass. A woman like that was built to be bedded and often, and Tack took advantage. Then again, that was why Tack accepted her ball and chain. Actually, not so much accepted it as much as forced her to clamp her shackle on his ankle. Given the choice of waking up to Tyra Allen every morning, not many men wouldn’t have accepted that shackle.

“Hey,” he heard Lanie greet him and his eyes moved back to her.

“Hey,” he replied.

Her head tilted slightly down, but her eyes never left his as she remarked, “Getting rowdy.”

“Always does,” he murmured, his gaze moving over her shoulder while he thought, Jesus, she was tall. She had to be five-nine without those heels. In them, she was six-foot-one. Nearly his height. They were almost eye to eye.

He didn’t like this, normally.

Lanie… eye to eye with those fucking eyes?

Shit.

“Wanna fuck?”

At her question, his gaze sliced back to hers as he felt his body jerk in shock.

“Say again?” he asked.

She leaned in slightly, never looking away and repeated, “Wanna fuck?”

Hop stared at her. He’d just watched her walk to him, winding through loud, shitfaced bikers and their bitches, her gait steady. She didn’t move like she was hammered, nowhere near it. Even now her gaze was clear as it held his.

Still, he asked, “You had one too many, babe?”

“No,” she replied instantly and moved closer.

This was not good because, when she did, he could smell her perfume.

Those eyes, bedroom eyes.

That perfume, fuck me perfume.

Jesus, he’d been catching whiffs of it now for years and it never failed to do a number on him. He didn’t know what it was—the fact that it smelled expensive, the intense femininity of it that said, point blank, “I am all fucking woman,” or the fact that it was elusive. If you got one smell of it, the woman who wore it owned you because you’d do anything to go back for more. Any time Lanie got near him, Hop hoped to catch her scent. Sometimes he would. Sometimes he wouldn’t. But every time, he hoped for it.

Now, though, smelling her scent was a very bad thing.

“Not sure that’s a good idea, Lanie,” he told her, gentling his voice as he gave her the honesty.

“Why?” she asked immediately, and he felt his eyes narrow on her before he answered.

“Maybe ’cause you’re best friends with Tack’s old lady. I respect him, I respect her, and shit like this, babe, it gets complicated. Any complication sucks but a complication like this,” he shook his head, “no one needs that.”

She threw out a hand and declared casually, “It won’t get complicated.”

Okay, maybe she was messed up, fucked up, a drama queen, high maintenance and a nut.

“Bullshit,” he replied. “It always gets complicated.”

She moved closer and Jesus, her scent, that hair, those eyes, all so close. If she got any closer he’d physically have to set her away or pick her up and carry her to his room.

“Do you want to fuck me?” she asked. Her voice, sweet and feminine normally, was soft now, a little hesitant, a little excited, and that intoxicating combination was doing a number on him too.

“Babe, you looked in the mirror lately?” he asked back by way of answer. “Man would have to be dead not to wanna fuck you.”

A little smile twisted her pretty mouth and he knew he was screwed because that was cute and fucking sexy as all fucking hell.

Shit.

She got closer and Hop braced. Any closer and she’d be cozied up to him. She was inches away.

“Do you like me?” she asked.

“Everyone likes you,” he answered.

“I’m not asking about everyone, Hop,” she told him and he held her eyes.

“Yeah, babe, you know I do,” he finally answered when she didn’t move or speak, just waited. “You’re funny, you’re cute, you’re hot, and you got no problem letting it all hang out. That’s why everyone likes you. That’s also why I do.”

To that, she returned, “Okay. Good. Then no complications, Hop. Just you and me and tonight. Tomorrow, I won’t expect flowers. I won’t expect a belated courtesy date. I won’t even expect you to take me out for a cup of coffee. This isn’t about that. I don’t even want that. I just want you and sex. No expectations. Nothing but what we have tonight,” she told him. “Tack and Ty-Ty, or anyone, they never even have to know.”

He pushed away from the pole, reached out an arm to put his beer on a nearby picnic table and took a huge chance straightening to her because it meant they were closer. But it also gave him the half an inch he still had on her when she was in those heels and he needed it.

“Don’t wanna be a dick, lady,” he warned softly, “but bitches say that shit all the time. Then, in the morning, they expect breakfast, coffee, and to come home from work to roses with a note sayin’ the guy never had better. You got a man who thinks to buy you roses, says he’s never had better, big chances are he’s lyin’. He just wants it regular and he’ll take it as it comes.”

He knew every word out of his mouth made him the dick he told her he didn’t want to be but she needed to move on. If she was in the mood to get laid, she needed to find herself some not on Chaos. Tack’s woman Cherry had chosen Chaos but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t lose her mind if her best girl hooked up with a brother. She would. Hop knew it. But if that shit happened anyway, Cherry would want to handpick the brother who got in there and Hop also knew that brother would absolutely not be him.

“Then take it as it comes,” she shot back, not appearing offended in the slightest, her words coming out almost like a dare.

“Lanie—” he started but she leaned in and, fuck, if he moved his mouth a quarter of an inch, it’d be on hers. She was all he could see, all he could smell, and all he could think was that she was also all he wanted to feel.

“You know my story,” she whispered. “You think I want another guy?” She paused then finished with emphasis, “Ever?”

He got her. Her dead old man was a moron and she’d paid for his shit in the worst way she could. Her loyalty had bought her nothing but pain, bullet wounds, and heartache. Not to mention, her man might have been good at what he did for a living, the computer geek to end all computer geeks, but he was nothing to look at. So she not only gave love and loyalty but she stepped out of a zone no woman who looked like her had to step out of in order to give it.

So, yeah, Belova was a moron and she chose that. He could see her wanting to get back in the saddle but being skittish about buying the horse.

She just wasn’t going to get back in the saddle with him.

Hop started to lift his hands to curl them around her upper arms and set her away but she moved fast, lifting her hands to curl them around the sides of his neck. They felt warm. Her perfume assaulted him straight on and he stilled.

“I do not want that,” she carried on. “What I want is… you. For one night. Just one night.”

Fuck him.

Fuck him.

“Lady,” he muttered but before he could say more, she kept talking.

“It was… I know you know where I was back then and who I was with and I know you had a woman then too, Hop, but still, that night I met you, I couldn’t help but notice you were good-looking. But you’re not with anyone anymore and I’m seriously not with anyone anymore and I’ve been thinking about it for a long time, just too scared to do anything about it. Now I’ve decided I’m doing something about it.”

“I gotta say, I like that you’re into me, babe,” he returned gently. “Already told you that you’re beautiful and under any other circumstances, I would not hesitate to take you up on an offer this sweet. So you gotta know it’s killin’ me even as you gotta trust me when I say this is not a good idea.”

“I’ve had no one since him,” she whispered and, acting on their own, Hop’s hands came up and settled on her waist, giving it a squeeze. The move was intimate but comforting. The news that this woman, this crazy-gorgeous woman and all that she was hadn’t had a man between her legs in fucking years moved him even as it troubled him.

“Lanie, honey,” he muttered, not having the first fucking clue what else to say.

“I’ve thought on it and decided it’s you.” Her hands at his neck gave him a squeeze and fuck him, fuck him, that moved him even more. “I understand why you don’t want to but I promise, Hop, I swear, no kidding, seriously, no strings. No expectations. Just us. One night. Tomorrow, it will be like it’s always been. Like it didn’t even happen. I promise.”

Her hands slid down to his chest but she didn’t move away as she finished laying it out.

“Now, I’m going to your room and I’m going to wait there for fifteen minutes. If you don’t show, no harm, no foul. I promise that, too. Nothing changes between us. No one knows anything.” She sucked in a breath and took a half step back, her hands falling away when she concluded in a quiet voice, “But,” she took a deep breath, “I really hope you show.”

With that, not giving him a chance to say another word, she turned and strutted her narrow ass back through the loud, rowdy, drunk bikers and their bitches, her hair swaying, her arms moving gracefully, her scent still in his nostrils.

“Shit,” he whispered when he watched her haul open the door to the Compound.

“Shit,” he repeated when the door closed behind her.

He kept his eyes on the door and he did this a while.

That woman, that crazy-gorgeous woman, was right now in his room.

“Shit,” he whispered yet again right before he made his way to the door.

Hopper broke contact with Lanie’s hooded eyes, eyes that were a fuckuva lot sexier since he’d just come inside her and he did it hard and he did it long and he shoved his face in her neck.

All he could smell was her. All he could feel was her warm, soft body under his—one of her legs wrapped around the back of his thigh, the other one cocked high, her thigh pressed to his side but her calf swung in, her heel resting in the small of his back. Her arms were tight around him, one at his shoulders, one angled, resting along his spine. Last, he could feel his cock buried in her unbelievably tight, wet cunt.

He didn’t know what it was. Maybe it was that she’d never had kids. Maybe it was because it had been so long since she’d had a man. Whatever it was, her pussy was close to virgin it was so tight. Luckily, it was also sleek. Luckier, it tasted like goddamned honey.

He’d been right when they were talking outside.

This was about to get complicated.

Her head moved and he felt her lips at his ear even as he heard her soft, tentative words. “Was that all right?”

Hop closed his eyes even as his hips reflexively pressed into hers and he gently fisted the hand he had buried in her hair.

She was worried she was out of practice. She was worried it wasn’t good for him. And considering the fact that, if she was out of practice, when she got into the swing of things, she’d be off-the-charts, her worry was both cute and sweet and, like everything else about her, it did a number on him.

Yes, things were going to get complicated.

He opened his eyes, moved his head so his lips were at her ear, and murmured, “Lady, I don’t fake it. Not only because I can’t but because, even if I could, I wouldn’t.”

All her limbs convulsed around him even as her cunt did the same and, Jesus, God, it felt seriously fucking good.

Then it got better when her body started moving under him and he heard her husky, low chuckle in his ear.

He lifted his head in an effort to watch her face in laughter through the dark. Once she got back to Denver and Tyra got her hands on her, Lanie laughed a lot. He liked watching her laugh. It was always, every time he saw it, a good show.

It was better now because he could feel it. Even though he couldn’t see much, the little he saw was still pure beauty.

Totally complicated.

He liked her smell. He liked her feel. He liked the sound of her low laughter. He liked her uncertainty. He liked how hard she made him come. And he liked how hard she came for him, her pussy tightening around his cock, her long limbs wound around his body holding on, her soft pants and moans sweet to his ear and, best of all, the look on her beautiful face when he gave it to her.

Totally fucking complicated.

He waited until she stopped laughing before he slid his hand out of her hair to her jaw and then rubbed the pad of his thumb across her lips while he asked, “How you feelin’?”

“Uh… good,” she answered, her words meant to be an obvious understatement, her lips moving against his thumb tilting up even as she spoke.

“Good enough for another go?” he asked, his thumb pressing in, pulling at her unbelievably full lower lip, and he felt her shift under him.

He knew what that shift meant even before her voice came at him, breathy, “Another go?”

He replaced his thumb with his lips. “Yeah, another go.”

“So soon?” She sounded disbelieving.

“You’re gonna have to work me up, lady, but… yeah. Soon as you’re ready, my mouth wants more of that pussy.”

She wanted that, too. He knew it because her body trembled under his.

“Yeah, I’m, um… good for another go,” she told him, her sweet voice still breathy.

“Then don’t move.” He pressed his lips to hers before he lifted his head. “Gotta hit the can and I’ll be back.”

“I won’t move,” she whispered.

She better not. If she did, he’d find her and haul her back. He didn’t care if she beamed her ass to Mars.

Fuck.

Complicated.

He knew it and didn’t give a fuck as he slid out of her, kissed her throat, feeling her skin, smelling her scent, and rolled off her and the bed so he could make his way to the bathroom to get rid of his condom.

When he got back, she hadn’t moved, but seconds later, she did because he moved her.

He parted her legs, swung them over his shoulders and didn’t hesitate a second before he dipped his face into pure honey.

Hop exited the bathroom and saw Lanie sitting on the side of his bed, her back to him, putting on her bra.

“What the fuck you doin’?” he growled and, shit, that was it. He couldn’t deny it. Even he heard it.

He growled.

She twisted and he felt her eyes on him in the dark.

“Ty-Ty and Tack are down the hall. They won’t come up for air until the morning but it’s almost morning so I should be gone by then.”

“You’re not goin’,” he informed her, putting a knee to the bed and moving her way.

“I’m… oof,” she puffed as he hooked her at the belly, yanked her back onto the bed, and rolled on top of her. She blinked up at him through the dark and finished, “not?”

“Not done with you,” he informed her.

“You’re…” again with the breathy voice, something he felt in his gut, chest, and dick, “not?” and again with the disbelieving.

Totally disbelieving.

“I’m not,” Hop confirmed.

“Is that even,” a pause then, “possible?”

“Is what possible?” he asked.

“Three times in an, erm… night?”

Obviously, Belova wasn’t only messed up, fucked up and stupid, he'd clearly had no stamina, which was fucking insane. A ninety-year-old man had a shot at that beauty, he’d find a way to get it up and do it repeatedly even if it killed him.

“Yeah it’s possible.”

Hop watched her head tilt on the pillow. “I… No offense, Hop, but I don’t believe you.”

Fucking excellent.

He slid his hands up her sides as he dropped his mouth to hers. “Right. Good, then, babe. I get to prove it to you.”

Close up, he watched her eyes get wide.

“Wow,” she whispered against his lips.

“Don’t say that now,” he ordered. “You can say that later, like you did after I did that thing with my fingers the second time.”

Her body shifted under his, her chest pressing up; she remembered something he knew she wouldn’t soon forget and she repeated a whispered, “Wow.”

He grinned against her mouth and promised, “I’ll give you wow.”

“You’ve already given me three wows,” she reminded him.

“Four,” he corrected.

“Oh yeah,” she murmured, her hands moving light down the skin of his back. “I forgot that one because it came so close on the heels of that other one.”

Her hands made it to his ass so he decided their conversation was over, and to communicate that to Lanie, he asked, “Are we gonna keep talkin’ or do you want wow?”

She moved her head, sliding her lips from his, down his cheek to his jaw and finally his ear.

Once they were there, she murmured, “Give me wow.”

With his mouth at her neck, he trailed it down to her collarbone then engaged his tongue and, after, taking his time and a lot of it, he gave her wow five and six.

Hop came out of the bathroom to see Lanie on her feet on the other side of the bed, panties on, hands twisted behind her back putting her bra on. Again.

He didn’t say a word. He prowled to her, reached out an arm the second he was close, yanked her to him and fell to his back in the bed, taking her down with him.

“Hop—” she started, pushing her weight against his arms, but he slid her off him then wasted no time rolling over her and pinning her to his bed.

“Sleep,” he ordered when he caught her eyes in the weak dawn. “After rest, I’ll get coffee, we’ll juice up, then round four.”

She blinked and breathed, “Four?”

“Got lots more I want to do to you,” he informed her and watched her eyes go soft, sexier, then her teeth came out to graze her lush lower lip, also fucking sexy, and her arms slid around him.

But she asked, “What about Tack and Ty-Ty?”

“I’ll make sure the coast is clear,” he told her.

“But they’ll see my car,” she told him.

“I’ll move it,” he offered.

Her hand slid up his back, around his shoulder and then to his neck where her thumb moved to stroke him. Her touch was light but fuck, it felt good. He’d never had a woman touch him in an unconscious way like that, just a touch, a stroke, giving something that meant nothing at the same time doing it without thinking about it meant everything.

Shit.

Complicated.

“This is just supposed to be one night,” she reminded him quietly but he saw it in her eyes. She didn’t even try to hide it. She’d bitten off more than she could chew.

He had too and he was nowhere near done eating.

She was cute. She was sweet. She was hot. She was better than he expected and he’d expected her to be pretty fucking good. All that wrapped in a package that gorgeous?

Yeah.

He was nowhere near done eating.

“Change of plans. A night and a morning and, maybe, an afternoon and, possibly, another night,” he amended and her eyes got softer as her hand slid up to cup his jaw.

“I have to work,” she told him.

“Call off,” he told her.

“I can’t. I own the joint.” She explained something he knew, that she ran her own advertising agency. “And things are a bit crazy.”

Things were always crazy for Lanie. The woman lived crazy. She thrived on it. If there wasn’t crazy, she stirred it up because she couldn’t breathe without it.

“Babe,” he pressed his body into hers, “told you, got more I want to do to you.”

He felt her shiver but her lips whispered, “Hop, I don’t—”

He cut her off with a quick kiss then lifted his head and asked, “Where are your keys?”

“We shouldn’t sleep together. Sleeping is bad. Sex is good, sleeping together is something else,” she stated and she was right.

He just didn’t care.

“Where are your keys?” he asked.

“Hop—”

“Lady, we’re not sleeping, we’re resting then we’re fucking some more. Last time I’ll say it. Not done with you, got things I want to do to you and I’m doin’ them. Now, where… are… your… keys?”

She stared up at him, her gaze hot, her body bothered, shifting under his, and she whispered, “Jeans pocket.”

Stretching out to reach a hand to the floor, he grabbed her jeans, got in the pocket and yanked out her keys. Once he had them in hand, he went back to her and kissed her. He took his time, and it was wet, deep, and fucking brilliant.

When she was holding on tight and kissing him back like she never wanted it to end, he ended it. Lifting his lips to her forehead, he touched them there then dipped his chin and looked into her eyes.

“Rest, honey. I’ll move your car and be back.”

“Okay,” she agreed quietly.

He touched his mouth to hers, rolled off, grabbed his jeans, a tee, pulled on socks and his boots and made his way to the door. He turned back before he slid through the still mostly closed door.

She was curled in an “S” in his bed, pillow to her chest, cheek resting on it, arms around it, hair everywhere. Her bare back was exposed and he could see one leg and her ass in red lace panties. Eyes on him.

Fucking gorgeous, every inch, and she tasted and felt as good as she looked.

She grinned.

Gorgeous.

He returned her grin, slid through the door and went after her car.

When he got back, she was dead to the world.

He took off his clothes, dropped them to the floor and slid into bed beside her. Carefully, he turned her into his arms.

She didn’t wake. She just cuddled closer, her arm snaking across his stomach then holding tight, her torso pressing into his, her knee cocked and resting on his thigh.

This felt good, too.

She was right. They shouldn’t sleep together. Sleeping suggested something more. A kind of togetherness neither of them wanted. Sleeping like this with her, it feeling so good; it was, with everything else, enough to make you want a fuckuva lot more.

So it was good, Hop thought, that they weren’t sleeping, they were just resting.

On that thought, he fell asleep, Lanie curved close and held tight in his arm, her perfume all over his sheets.

Three hours later, Hop woke.

Lanie’s perfume was still all over his sheets.

Lanie just wasn’t in them.

That night Hop was stretched out on the fluffy cushion on the lounge chair in her courtyard, feet crossed at the ankles, eyes trained to the back door of the garage.

He had no idea how late it was. He just knew it was dark and he’d been there a really fucking long time.

Too long.

Long enough for him to get pissed.

Or more pissed.

He heard her garage door go up and didn’t move when he heard its grind or when he heard the purr of her sweet ride moving into it. A pearl red Lexus LFA. According to word on Chaos, her father had bought it for her.

High class ran in the family. So did money.

He only moved off the chair when he heard the garage door going down.

He was on his feet when the outside lights to the courtyard that separated her brownstone from the garage came on but he didn’t move from his spot even as the door to the courtyard opened.

She strode out, sex on stilettos; tight skirt, tailored blazer that was unbelievably feminine, hair out to there; slim, shiny, expensive briefcase in her hand; trim, small designer purse over her shoulder.

A Cosmo girl tricked out in business gear.

“Yo,” he called when she shut the door. He watched her jump and swing around to him, face pale, eyes huge.

“Oh my God, Hop. You scared me half to death.”

He didn’t reply.

When he remained silent, her face lost its pallor. Her head tipped to the side and her brows knitted as she asked, “What are you doing here?”

“Told you, I wasn’t done with you,” he answered and her head immediately righted with a snap.

“Hop—” she started.

“Told you that,” he cut her off. “Still, you snuck outta my bed and slunk away.”

She took one step toward him, her body moving like she was going to take more but she suddenly stopped.

“I said just one night,” she reminded him.

“And I said I wasn’t done with you,” he fired back.

“I—” she began but he interrupted her again.

“You had dinner?”

Her head jerked in surprise then she answered, “Yes, a business dinner. New client.”

“Good,” he grunted. “Upstairs. Naked. Now.”

He felt it coming off her in waves.

She wanted that.

Bad.

Then her head moved again like she was forcing herself to do it, shaking it side to side. “We agreed. One night.”

“I think we also agreed, though the words weren’t spoken, one night’s not enough.”

“This can’t get complicated,” she reminded him.

“You keep your mouth shut, I keep my mouth shut, we’re smart, we contain it, no one finds out, and we stick to the boundaries, it won’t.”

“I don’t think—”

“Lanie. Upstairs. Naked. Now.”

He saw her breath come fast, her chest moving with it and Jesus, fuck him, he could taste her excitement and he was five feet away.

“We shouldn’t—”

“Fucked you on your back. Like to look in your eyes when I’m inside you. Done that. Now I want you on your knees, gonna fuck your face and your cunt and I can’t do that in the courtyard. It’d shock the shit outta me, class act like you gets into that but if I get you naked, you’re all mine. I don’t share with the neighbors.”

She stood stock-still, her eyes riveted to him. The only thing moving on her body was her chest, rising and falling with quick breaths.

“Lanie,” he leaned in, “upstairs. Naked. Right… fucking… now.”

She took off toward her sliding glass door.

Hop didn’t move but he did smile when she dropped her keys, cursed under her breath and crouched in that tight skirt to get them.

Second go, she got in and left the door open as she hurried inside.

Hop stared at the door before taking a deep breath and walking to it.

He got inside and saw it was a big kitchen, living, dining area. He saw the clock on the microwave said it was ten forty-two.

He took no more in.

To make sure something that could get complicated didn’t, he understood that this wasn’t what he was going to take or what she could give. He didn’t get to look at her shit, check out pictures in frames, see if she was clean or messy, read what he could in how she decorated.

He didn’t get that.

He got what was upstairs, naked in her bed.

He turned slowly and slid the door closed. He locked it. Then he moved through the dark space.

He found the blazer on the carpet of the stairs. A camisole on the landing. Her skirt on the next flight. Panties, bra and shoes leading him to a room where dim light was shining.

He was hard by the time he made it to her room.

He didn’t look around there either. Not because it wasn’t what he got from her but because she was on her ass in her bed, knees to her chest, chin to her knees, arms wrapped around her calves, ankles crossed at her ass, hiding everything but still cute as all fuck.

His dick started throbbing.

“Fuck me, I’m gonna come just standing here looking at you,” he muttered and watched her eyes close slowly, something moving over her face making beauty so beautiful, it was almost impossible to take it in. Like staring at the sun; if he saw that look on her face for another second, he’d go blind.

She opened her eyes, pushed out of her pose and gracefully moved to the edge of the bed. Feet to the floor, naked, her eyes to his, his going everywhere that was her. She moved to him and stopped so close he could smell her perfume.

Instantly her hands went to his tee and she yanked up.

Hop lifted his arms. She pulled the shirt away and dropped it.

Then her mouth went to his chest, her hands followed, moving, licking, sucking, touching, then down.

On her knees, she unbuckled his belt, pulled it open, unbuttoned his jeans, not looking at him through this. He got nothing but the gleaming hair on top of her head.

He knew why when she reached right in, found him, pulled him free and slid him deep inside her mouth.

She had something she wanted and she was concentrating on getting it.

Fuck.

Fuck.

His head dropped back, his fingers slid into her hair, and his voice was hoarse when he ordered, “Baby, up. Woman like you does not get on her knees.”

She wrapped a fist around him, slid him out and he looked down just in time to see her tip her head back, those eyes, those fucking eyes, hooded and turned on, looking up at him.

“I like it, honey.”

“Suck me off in bed. Not on your knees. Class doesn’t hit her knees.”

“Hop—”

“Up, Lanie. Get in bed.”

“But—”

He jerked his hips back, she lost purchase on his dick and he planted his hands under her arms. He pulled her up and then swung her into his arms. He took four strides and tossed her on the bed.

He bent, yanked off his boots, his socks, his jeans and he joined her there.

He pulled her into his arms, rolled to his back, rolling her on top.

“Right, now you can suck me off,” he told her.

“I get to go back to what I was doing later,” she told him and he grinned at the look on her face. She still looked turned on. She also looked miffed.

Cute.

Adorable, actually.

Fuck. It was going to take a serious amount of work for this not to get complicated.

“Maybe,” he lied. “Now back to work.”

“Ty-Ty told me you guys take bossy to extremes and do whatever it takes to get your way. That was why I snuck out of your bed this morning. I told you we shouldn’t sleep together. It seemed you weren’t going to take no for an answer so I had to get creative,” she shared and there it was.

Cherry blabbed so Lanie was prepared.

He’d have to take that into account in the future.

“You’re telling me this instead of going down on me because…?” he prompted.

“Because I want your promise I can finish what I started later,” she explained.

“Lady, you can do it now. In fact, I’d be obliged if you would,” he told her.

She scrunched up her nose. “Like we were before.”

Hop shook his head. “I said, no. Not like that.”

Her hand came to his cheek and her face got close. “Hop, what you said was sweet and I liked that but I also liked what I was doing and—”

He rolled on top of her and he moved his hand to her cheek, thumb to her lips, pressing in and his face got close.

“I’m guessin’ you get what this is. We played with fire, we got burned now we gotta contain the blaze, but sayin’ that, I got no intention of puttin’ it out and babe, I’m gettin’, since you left me a trail of breadcrumbs to this room, you don’t either.”

She tried to turn her head to get away from his thumb to say something but Hop kept going.

“We get it, we don’t gotta talk about it. We know what we got revolves around bein’ naked in a bed so you shouldn’t get what I’m gonna give you right now. But I’m gonna give it to you. Never had class. Never had beauty. I’ll repeat, never… had… class. I’m not gonna fuck over Cherry, who I care about, or Tack, who’s my brother, and I know you don’t wanna do that either, so this is what we got for as long as it’s good. But it’s a clean, pure beauty the like I’ve never had, I’m gonna respect it like I feel like I gotta and you’re gonna let me.”

He paused, bent his face closer to hers and dipped his voice lower.

“So, no, Lanie, you are not gettin’ down on your knees like every biker skank or groupie, or drunk, high piece of ass before you dropped to hers and sucked me off. You go down on me, you do it like who you are. Respect. You don’t want that, you’re looking to play with rough trade to get you off, find another guy to make you skank. That is not what you’re gonna get from me. Now, are you gonna finish givin’ me a blowjob or are you gonna fight me on this?”

She laid there and stared up at him, not saying a word, so Hop gave her an alternate option.

“Or are you gonna lie there and stare at me?”

“I think I need to lie here and stare at you for about thirty more seconds,” she whispered and Hop felt his lips twitch.

Then he offered quietly, “Have at it, baby.”

“Though, while lying here staring at you, I’m just going to say, I really like your mustache,” she told him.

“Good to know,” he muttered, his lips still twitching.

“It’s badass biker cool,” she went on.

“Right,” he kept muttering, now through a grin.

“And it feels good on my neck and, well… other places,” she continued and his grin turned to a smile.

“Also good to know.”

“I think I’m done staring at you,” she announced.

“So, you gonna get busy?”

She’d lied.

She wasn’t done staring at him. He knew this because she kept staring for a beat before she lifted her head and touched her mouth to his.

“Yeah,” she whispered.

He grinned against her mouth before he kissed her, rolling her with him as he turned onto his back.

When he broke the kiss, she got busy and sucked him off in bed.

Like class.

Like a lady.

Dressed and sitting on the side of her bed, Hop shifted the soft, heavy hair off Lanie’s neck, leaned in and put his lips there.

“Tickles,” she murmured. He lifted his head and caught her eyes. “In a good way,” she finished.

“Good,” he murmured back and dipped his already close face closer. “Sun’s up, honey.”

“Yeah,” she whispered.

“Later,” he said.

“Yeah.” She drew in breath then asked, “Tonight?”

“You want that?”

She nodded her head on the pillow.

Excellent. He did too.

He lifted his lips to her temple, kissed her there, moved them to her ear and said softly, “You got it.”

Then, without another look at her in her bed, sleepy, sexy and sated, something he knew he couldn’t walk away from, he walked away from her, through her house and out the sliding glass door, putting Lanie Heron out of his mind.

Until tonight.