Page 10 of Hard as Stone (Stoneheart MC #2)
She inhales sharply at the contact but doesn’t back away. “Try me.”
I miss my shot, too distracted by her proximity and the dangerous territory this conversation is heading into. When I turn, she’s watching me with those bright, curious eyes that have been haunting my dreams.
“Some other time.” I gesture to the table. “Your shot.”
She studies me for a long moment before nodding. “Fine. Just tell me if my family is mixed up in something dangerous and you can keep your secrets, Road Captain.”
“Tonight isn’t about danger.” I move closer, deliberately invading her space. “Tonight is about you trying to hustle me out of an expensive steak dinner. Speaking of which...” I glance at the table. “I believe it’s still your turn.”
She hesitates, and I can see her weighing whether to push for answers. Before she can, I lean in close, my lips nearly brushing her ear.
“Play the game, Poppy. Some mysteries are better solved on a full stomach.”
She shivers. “Is that your way of admitting I’m going to win?”
“That’s my way of saying focus on what’s in front of you.” I step back, gesturing to the table. “Unless you’re ready to forfeit?”
Poppy’s eyes narrow at my challenge. “Not a chance, Road Captain. Hope you brought your credit card, because I plan on ordering everything on the menu.”
She turns back to the table, her attention back on the game now as she studies her shot.
I watch as she sinks ball after ball, her movements precise yet playful.
Any talk of city contracts or armed guards is forgotten in the rhythm of the game, replaced now with flirtatious comments and deliberate touches, all calculated to drive me crazy, I’m sure.
I’m hard as stone.
“Eight ball, corner pocket.” She meets my eyes as she calls her shot, that sunrise smile playing at her lips.
The black ball rolls true, dropping into the pocket with a thunk.
“Looks like you’re buying me dinner,” she says, propping her cue against the table.
“Looks like.” I move closer, drawn to her like an idiot wanting to touch a sparking live wire. “But first, I want to show you something.”
She raises an eyebrow. “Is this where you try to get me alone in the parking lot?”
“That a problem?”
Her eyes darken. “Depends what you have in mind.”
I take her hand, ignoring the spark that shoots up my arm at the contact. “Come on, troublemaker. My bike’s outside.”
“Your bike?” She lets me lead her toward the door. “Pretty sure I won the game fair and square. Doesn’t that mean dinner?”
“Trust me.” We step into the cool night air, and I guide her toward where my Harley sits under the streetlight. “This is better than dinner.”
“I don’t know about that. I was really looking forward to that steak.”
I stop beside the bike, turning to face her. “Ever been on the back of a Harley?”
She shakes her head, but her fingers trail along the chrome almost reverently. “Dad would kill me.”
“Good thing Daddy’s not here then.” I nod toward my bike, holding out my hand. “What do you say, sweetheart? Want to live a little dangerously?”
She hesitates, but I see the hunger in her eyes as she looks at the bike. “Will it tip if I get on first?”
“No. But your dress might ride up,” I warn, watching her debate with herself.
“That’s not what I’m worried about,” she says, taking my hand. “It’s more what my brothers will do to you when they find out I did this.”
“Sweetheart, your brothers are the least of my concerns right now.”
She laughs, but lets me help her onto the bike.
The dress rides up her thighs, and I catch a flash of pink lacy cotton poking out between her legs as she settles onto the leather seat.
I suppress my groan and the urge to slide my hand up her thigh.
But the sight of her there—all soft curves and dangerous smile—has my blood running hot. She belongs there, belongs to me.
Her fingers trail along the chrome tanks, and my body tightens, imagining those fingers on my skin instead. “Beautiful bike.”
“Beautiful woman.” The words slip out before I can stop them.
She looks up and something in me breaks. All the tension since that first meeting, every charged moment, every heated look—it crashes over me at once, and I can’t stop myself.
“What are you doing?”
I don’t answer. Instead, I swing my leg over the bike, the leather creaking beneath my weight as I settle onto the seat facing her. Her eyes widen, a soft gasp escaping her lips as I cage her body with mine, my hands gripping the chrome on either side of her hips.
Poppy’s breath hitches as I lean in close, the heat of my body enveloping her. “Axel,” she whispers, her eyes locked on mine. “This is a terrible idea.”
“Then tell me to stop,” I growl, shifting my hands to her hips and pulling her closer.
“I should.” But her hands slide between us, hooking into my cut and tugging.
“But you won’t.”
“No.” Her tongue darts out to wet her lips. “I won’t.”
I close the distance between us slowly, giving her time to change her mind. But when my lips finally meet hers, there’s nothing slow about it. She makes a small sound in the back of her throat, and I’m lost.
The kiss is everything I’ve imagined, and nothing like I expected.
She tastes like whiskey and trouble, her mouth soft but demanding under mine.
My hands hook beneath her thighs, tugging her legs so they’re over mine and she’s flush against me, a tangle of limbs and heat and need.
She gasps into my mouth as her core presses against my hardness, only thin layers of fabric separating us.
I swallow the sound, my tongue delving deeper, claiming her.
Poppy’s fingers tangle in my hair, tugging me closer as she meets my kiss with equal fervor.
Her hips rock against mine, seeking friction, and it takes every ounce of my self-control not to take her right here on my bike.
I want to bury myself inside her, feel her tight heat clenching around me as I make her scream my name.
But this isn’t the place for that. Not out here in the open where anyone could see. Not for our first time.
With a groan, I force myself to pull back, resting my forehead against hers as we both struggle to catch our breath. Poppy’s eyes are glazed, her lips swollen from my kisses. She looks wrecked in the best possible way.
“That wasn’t very gentlemanly,” she whispers against my lips.
“Never claimed to be a gentleman.”
“Could’ve fooled me with your fancy bike and even fancier kissing skills.” Poppy’s voice is breathy, her eyes still half closed as she leans into me.
I chuckle, the sound rumbling deep in my chest. “Guess that makes me a gentleman, then. If I wasn’t, we wouldn’t still be sitting on this bike.”
Her eyes flutter open at that, dark and hungry as they meet mine. “Is that a promise or a threat, Road Captain?”
“Bit of both.” I brush my thumb over her lower lip, swollen and tempting. “I should get you home.”
Poppy pouts, her bottom lip jutting out in a way that makes me want to bite it. “But you still owe me dinner.”
“Rain check,” I growl, trying to focus past the need burning through my veins. “Because if I don’t get you home right now, this gentleman you’ve brought out in me is gonna snap, and dinner’s going to be the last thing I eat.”
Her fingers trace patterns on my chest. “Maybe I’m not that hungry anymore.”
Christ. The invitation in her voice nearly breaks my control. I capture her wandering hands in mine before they can tempt me further.
“Poppy.” My voice comes out rougher than intended. “You deserve better than a quick fuck in a parking lot.”
“Such a romantic,” she teases, but I see understanding in her eyes.
“Slide back.” I reluctantly release her hands so I can turn to face forward. “Before I change my mind about being noble.”
She laughs but complies, letting me swing around on the seat. When she wraps her arms around my waist, the press of her soft curves against my back is sweet torture.
“Hold on tight, troublemaker,” I warn as I kick the bike to life. “And don’t think I’ll forget about that steak I owe you.”
Her response is lost to the roar of the engine, but I feel her squeeze tighter as we pull out of the lot. The solid warmth of her against my back makes my chest ache with something that feels dangerously close to guilt.
I’m supposed to be getting close to her for information, figuring out if her family’s working with Summit to tear apart our town.
Instead, I’m fighting the urge to take her somewhere private and show her exactly what she does to me.
The club needs answers, but all I can think about is the taste of her lips and the way she fits against me like she belongs there.
Maybe I am going soft, playing the gentleman when I should be playing her.
But as we roar through the dark streets toward Paradise, I can’t help but glance at her reflection in the rearview mirror—her dark hair wild in the wind, her chin tucked against my shoulder.
Her hold on me is snug but unafraid, like she’s daring me to take the curves sharper, to push the bike harder.
For all her teasing and that wicked mouth of hers, she trusts me.
And fucked if it doesn’t make me want to be a man worthy of that trust.