Page 83 of Dirty Salvation

"Date never if you keep being a smartass." Maybe pre-date sex, but she wouldn't share that with him. As he rose, he stepped between the space separating them and cupped Zara's face, using his thumbs to tip up her chin. The deliciousness of the simple gesture worked through her, warming her like silky butter straight from the stove.

There was nothing he did that didn't affect her.

She savored the feelings he evoked, after being cold inside, his warmth was becoming addictive.

Rider addicted. Yep, sounded about right.

If Rider was the storm, then she was the idiot chasing it to experience that terrifying thrill of being in the eye if only for a second. If she was going to grab at life again, to wake up finally, she was going to do it one President at a time, starting and ending with Rider.

And Jesus, he excited the hell out of her on a level she didn’t even know existed, like did all women feel this for their men? with just a look or the rust in his voice with his everybaby. The punch flash of lust was very real.

The things he spoke as though he didn’t care about filters.

The liberties he took. The way he seemed attuned to her body and needs.

Maybe If she kept it purely physical, it would be okay, she believed. She could do that, because what on earth did she know about a relationship and how it functioned well?

Dates and sex.

Mostly she just wanted to get to the sex, even if she wanted to vomit on her shoes, to check if she could do it, to have someone in her body.

The dating portion was her being a chicken-shit and prolonging, because as she knew Rider wasgoodto go on the sex.

She wouldn't allow her eyes to trail down to his jeans, feeling him hard against her hip was proof enough. Rider was unapologetically cocky like he expected the world to fall in line with his commands. He was bull-headed and spoke whatever came to his mind regardless of the subject matter and he was more than ninety percent caveman.

But he was hot, so freaking beautiful, too handsome for an outlaw, dammit.

And sweet. Did she mention hot? like seriously melt panties hot,

Man, that sucked because she felt herself turn soft whenever he smiled at her.

"Are you going to kiss me or just keep on looking?" His stare was so intent she wondered exactly what he saw when he looked this deeply at her, what was going through his mind.

Thumbs brushed her lower lip.

These times with him were the most intimate moment she'd shared in a long time. It was just like riding a bike, she told herself, grinning inwardly. Because Rider was nothing like a bike.I want to ride him, though. She was going to try at least.

He hummed from the back of his throat. A lovely pleasure noise she felt in her belly.

Lower.

"Was thinkin' bout it. I need to get to church, Outlaw’in’ waits for no man, baby." Zara laughed at his seriousness although a smile tugged at his mouth. What a bizarre conversation, from dating to untold biker violence, but oh, it just felt right.

"Oh well then, can't hold you up from that now can we, kiss me, Rider."

When he groaned even she felt it vibrate against her belly, a great hungry tiger noise, she leaned up on her toes meeting him halfway. Eager for his mouth.

Oh, what a kiss.

Open, wet, slow. Delicious.

All his tongue stroking hers.

He teased her lips so patiently, coaxing her to open, to join him in that erotic caress. She wasn't aware of balling her fists in the front of his shirt until it was time to draw away. She swayed a little dizzy, unclenched her fingers releasing him reluctantly. The man knew how to kiss, going to her head like a decent bottle ofCasa NobleTequila making her forget everything but his lips.

He charged her, in some primal, tangible way that another man just wouldn't successfully achieve. She was primed for one man only.

A bad biker man.