Page 64 of Burning Ember

I think riding on the back of a bike sounds exciting and freeing. I can just picture it. Out of nowhere, the hair on my arms stands up eerily. I feel him. Mav. And his disapproval.

Dozer’s face dips down and his eyebrows rise. “Babe?”

“I’m sorry, what?”

He pinches my chin and lifts my face up so I’m looking up at him. “I asked if you’ve ever ridden on the back of a bike before?”

I shake my head. “Um, no. Never.”

Rigor hands Dozer a beer and places one in front of me.

“Thanks,” I say and avert my eyes from Dozer.

“Next time we go for a ride, you’re with me, babe. All right?”

“All right, but you better go slow.”

At that exact moment, Mav makes a sound. Dozer keeps talking as if he doesn’t hear a thing. I turn, look up, and find Mav in the mirror. He’s standing behind me speaking with Goose. His arms are crossed, and a look that could kill is covering his features.

His amber eyes burn into me.

They tell me I’ll be taking that ride with Dozer over his dead body.

Dozer’s voice is rougher than normal, as he says, “Don’t worry, babe. I’ll take good care of you. Take it as slow as you want me to.”

The next night as I’m leaving Dozer’s room, I hear a masculine, “Holy Fuck,” followed by a feminine scream as I step into the hallway. Mav’s door, which is three doors down from Dozer’s but on the opposite side of the hall, swings opens.

A female voice squeals, “Mav! Don’t just leave me like this.”

Mav pokes his head into the hallway. “Where the fuck’s Taz?” he barks.

I shrug. “At the strip club. I thought you went with them.” It’s where all the guys went including Dozer.

Mav’s only wearing jeans and my eyes instantly rake over his bare torso. He’s tan, lean, and extremely fit. His abs are both ropey and sinful. His jeans ride low and reveal his nice pelvic muscles and a smattering of fine dark hair leading south. He has a tattoo over his heart, a few sentences, which based on the script, look like a bible verse, and at the end of the chain around his neck is a metal tag with the club insignia.

Warmth cascades through my body as if I’ve just stepped in front of a fireplace.

“Mav! Who are you talkin’ to?”

Mav ducks back into the room. “Listen. Whatever you do, don’t move.”

“Why. What are you doing?”

Appearing again, Mav rubs both hands over his face, his biceps bulging. Then after dropping his hands, he stares at me for a second almost as if he’s deciding something. He peers down both sides of the hallways looking for someone else, anyone but me. Finally, his gaze comes back to me and he lets out an exhaustive breath. “You scare easily?”

I blink a couple of times. “Um . . . depends.”

In an exasperated tone, he asks quickly, “What scares you?” He impatiently waves me to spit it out.

“Ah . . . I don’t know—small spaces, miniature poodles, earwigs.”Being tied up.Locked up.

“Miniature . . . did you just say earwigs?” His mouth twitches.

I shudder. “They get in your ears and . . .” His eyebrow quirks up and . . . yeah . . . I stop talking.

“C’mere.”

I cautiously step toward him and try my best to ignore how undeniably sexy he looks right now.