Page 14 of Property of Prowler (Kings of Anarchy MC: Nevada #1)

Opening it without checking the peephole, she found a sexier than sin Prowler looking every inch a predator. A yummy, ferocious, blond-haired Viking-looking predator ready to pillage and plunder?—

“Wow.” He interrupted her naughty thoughts. “I was ready to paddle your ass raw for just flinging the door open without checking who it was, but damn, mama, you stole the words right out of my mouth.”

Prowler stepped just inside the door, widening his stance and wrapping his arms around her waist. He nibbled her neck and ear as always.

While it still stung her that his initial greeting wasn’t a kiss, she had to admit, she loved their special way too.

Besides, he’d kissed her last night, and that had to count for something.

“How do you know I just flung it open?” she challenged breathlessly.

“Because.” Nip. “No shadow.” Suck.

“Maybe I checked my app and saw it was you.”

Prowler pulled back with narrowed eyes. She was a shit liar, and she knew it. The truth was always right there on the surface.

“So, where’s your phone then?”

“Um.” Searching her pockets, she knew she wouldn’t find it and, from the look on his face, so did he. “Right …”

“Right not fucking here.” His words were harsh, but his tone was concerned. She couldn’t meet his gaze. With the curled knuckle of his index finger, he lifted her chin. “Babe, promise me this is a one-off. You’ll check every time from now on.”

His concern was so genuine. The look in his eyes almost pulled three words from her lips she was not ready to say, so instead she opted for two. “I promise.”

“Good girl.” He did a hit-and-run style kiss. An all too brief meeting of the lips that left her kissing air when he pulled back.

“Now, go find your phone, and let’s get going.” He swatted her ass as she turned toward her room. This more playful side of Prowler was surprising but not unwelcome. She’d caught glimpses of it before with Cass, but now he seemed more relaxed with her … with them.

His lips.

It was twice now she’d felt his lips on hers, but it was nowhere near enough. She craved more. More of the sexy man she’d left standing in her living room in all his bad-boy hotness.

When she finally found her phone, she returned to catch him dragging his finger across the spines of her books, which she’d arranged by spice level on her bookshelf, but he didn’t need to know that.

She was taking inventory of how yummy he looked—from the faded black jeans that cupped his ass just right, to the way his biceps pushed the thread holding the seams of his black Henley together to its limits.

Her gaze traveled up his back, past the bottom rocker that read NEVADA, over the crowned skull wearing a bandana, and the lettering above it proclaiming him a King, to the messy bun gathered low.

The little peeks of his neck she glimpsed through the strands escaping were sexier than she ever would’ve imagined. She hated man-buns with a passion, or so she thought.

“Boy, was I wrong,” she breathed out.

Taylor hadn’t realized she’d spoken aloud until his finger stopped and traveled to the top of the book he was touching as he spoke.

“Wrong about what?” He asked without turning away from the shelf, while at the same time tipping the book out of the row and leaning over to see the now half-exposed cover.

Her gaze laser-focused in on the book he had tipped out and was now holding in his hands.

Fuck. Why it bothered her, she didn’t know.

She wasn’t ashamed of her reading choices, never was and never would be.

She was an unapologetic smut slut. But something about him His Lost Mate by Theresa Hissong caused goose bumps to break out all over her skin.

As he caressed the cover and flipped it over, he might as well be doing the same to her body because she was feeling the ghost of his touch as he dragged his hand along the cover and inserted a finger between the pages before opening it wide.

Head tilted toward the pages but looking at her, he grinned. A big bad wolf about to eat the little girl in the red cloak kind of grin. That fucker knew. Knew what he was doing to her.

“So, you like it dirty, do you?”

Fuck that noise. The man had fucked her in almost every way one could fuck another. She wouldn’t play the virgin now.

Meeting his gaze unwaveringly, she answered. “You know I do.”

“But this.” He closed the book, taking a step toward her while holding the cover out for her to see.

“You like the thought of a shifter in your bed? Doing all those things to your body while a wolf simmers just below the surface.” He took another step, and she felt like a small prey animal.

“Waiting to pounce. To bite you. To mark you as his forever.”

Taylor’s breath hitched. Cass’s suspicions raced to the front of her mind. If this was the Prowler Cass had meant, Taylor could see it one hundred and ten percent. If shifters were real, then yes, Prowler would definitely be one.

He was upon her before she breathed again.

Tossing the book onto the table behind her, he caged her in against it.

Prowler dropped his mouth to her ear. “Does the thought of a man losing control to his inner beast while fucking you senseless turn you on? Holding you in place with his teeth so you can’t move while he claims you? ”

His question was a growl that vibrated down to her clit.

“Yes. Fuck yes,” she answered in all honesty. If it weren’t so appealing, there wouldn’t be thousands of best-selling romance novels about it.

One arm of her cage disappeared, and she felt a hand unzipping her jeans.

“Fuck,” he cursed when he couldn’t wedge his hand down the front of her too-tight pants. The jeans were designed to make her ass look good, not for quick access.

Prowler pulled away enough to work her jeans just below her hips, granting him access with his hand and nothing more.

Dipping his mouth back to her neck, his fingers dove inside her. “Babe, you’re so wet for me. I think my beauty really does want a beast in her bed.”

His finger glided toward her back entrance.

Before she could protest, it was gone, traveling toward her clit and gathering moisture along the way.

He started with an up and down motion that switched to tight rapid circles just when she needed it.

There was no denying the man was a fucking expert in that department.

He worked her clit like a professional with a doctorate in clitology.

A master clitologist if you will.

“Fuck, Riley. I’m coming.”

“Hell, yeah, you are. Come on my hand, babe, and scream my name to the night.”

“Riley.” She drew out the last syllable before her legs gave out. Prowler held her close until she could stand again.

“That was beautiful,” he praised her as he sucked his fingers. “Absolutely stunning.”

Taylor couldn’t look away as she righted her jeans.

“You wanna taste the sweetest ambrosia, Taylor?” He asked while extending his hand toward her mouth. Still buttoning her jeans, she dipped her face forward to suck his offered fingers into her mouth, but before she could wrap her lips around them, he said, “I have a better idea.”

Then he did it.

He kissed her.

And not the mere meeting of lips from before, no, this time he devoured her mouth. A real kiss.

Taylor’s hands were trapped between them as he held her in place for his oral assault. That’s what it was too. He was laying siege to her mouth.

And boy could he kiss! His tongue explored every inch of her mouth. Every so often, he pulled back just enough to suck her bottom lip between his.

After what felt like hours, she realized she wasn’t an active participant in the kiss she’d been longing for, dreaming of.

Fuck that.

She ripped her hands from between them, not caring if her jeans were buttoned or not, and buried her fingers in that messy bun.

Prowler growled.

A rumble she felt in her bones.

When their lips finally parted, they were both left panting.

“You’re mine, Taylor,” he growled in a voice that didn’t seem to belong to him. “Do you hear me? You’re mine.”

Too dumbfounded to speak, she nodded. Prowler felt different somehow. Everything about him seemed, well, different is the only word to come to mind. His voice, his posture, his … eyes. Yes, even his eyes—the way he looked at her was new.

Taylor marked it down to the kiss and the date creating a giddy atmosphere.

Their relationship was changing, so of course she’d see it through a different lens.

She kept pushing the doubts down. She wanted to believe his declaration without hesitation.

It wasn’t easy, not with her history, but she would try.

With an extra spring in her step, she headed for the door. “Hurry up, I don’t want to miss the opening band. You’re going to love Radio Cowboy.”

Once outside, Prowler handed her a helmet as he waved across the street. “Keep your eyes open, Kansas.”

Following his line of sight, she could barely make out one of his brothers in the shadows by the front of his house. Prowler must have better than 20/20 vision to see that far.

Or he’s a wolf, and shifters are real.

That was another thing she pushed aside, trying to puzzle out the mystery Cass planted in her head. Just for the night. There would be time enough for that later.

As she donned her helmet, she faintly heard. “Will do, Riley .” That was the first time she’d ever heard any of them use his name. It was usually Prez this and Prowler that. Never Riley.

Her suspicions were confirmed when Prowler’s response was issued. “You’ll pay for that.”

“Worth it, Prez. Totally worth it. You kids have fun tonight.”

It finally registered in her brain the drawn-out, feminine way he’d said Riley .

“Oh my god.” She slapped Prowler’s shoulder as he mounted the bike in front of her. “He heard me.”

Embarrassment shot through her even before Prowler confirmed her suspicion.

“Don’t worry, babe. He’ll pay for it.” He fired up the engine and tapped his helmet, opening the comm since the bike was too loud to shout over. “No one gets to have any of you but me. That includes your cries of pleasure.”

So much was wrong with that statement, but at the same time, so much was right with it too.

“How …” was all she could manage. She’d known she was loud, but that loud? That seemed like quite a stretch even for her vocal range.

“He’s a natural with excellent hearing even in sk—from far away.”

A natural what? A natural at hearing? That made no sense. And far away had not been what he had started to say. Taylor would bet money on it.

Her mind was turning over the last week, even as she told herself to leave it alone for the night. All the little things that had her questioning, well, everything. From Cass’s suspicions about her dad, to Travis coming at her at work the way he did, to Prowler’s you’re mine proclamation.

She was going to have to sit down with a bottle of wine and her thoughts.

Get them all together and see what picture the broader strokes made, other than Prowler’s a wolf, and Travis was plotting something bad.

She was also going to have to call Terry and find out what Travis had on him that caused him to sell her out to the pathetic excuse of a man they shared DNA with.

Prowler parked a block away from the venue, but the music was already pulsing and soothing her soul. Hopping off the bike, she handed her helmet to Prowler and started power walking toward the entrance.

“Come on, they’ve already started.”

“Damn, already so demanding.” He looked at his wrist where a watch should be.

“Twenty minutes into being mine,” he said with humor, and he caught up to her, wrapping his strong arms around her. He’d pushed up his sleeves and some ink was showing.

“So sexy,” she said as she ran her hand along his forearm that was still wrapped around her waist as they approached the security guy.

“Yes, you fucking are.” He kissed the side of her head before releasing her and grabbing his wallet.

As soon as the wristband was on, she bolted through the door and up to the rail with Prowler trailing behind.

With horns high, she was in her happy place. Nothing was going to ruin her night.

Taylor turned in his arms between sets and buried her face in his chest inhaling his smoke and pine scent. That smell was now permanently a part of her happy place.

It was well after midnight when they were mounting Prowler’s bike to go home.

A windowless creeper van slow-rolled past them before exiting onto the street. It had been parked close by.

Something about it made the hair on the back of her neck stand on end.

She’s just donned her helmet and hadn’t pulled the visor down yet, but she could’ve sworn Travis was in the passenger seat glaring at her.

He blocked her view of the driver, but something about the way he gripped the steering wheel had the bottom dropping out of her stomach.

Just when she’d thought this was a perfect night, her paranoia had to creep in.

It had to be that because she refused to accept anything else, dammit. The date—both company and activity—was perfect.

She’d just started to have a life, one like she’d always dreamed of, and she’d be damned if anyone or anything was going to ruin it.

Taylor held on tight to Prowler as they headed back home. His arm resting across her knee with his strong hand stroking her calf erased all the bad from the last week.

She squeezed her eyes tighter and tighter every time a thought other than how great their date was tried to creep into her brain.