Page 21 of Reaper & the Lioness (Lone Star Mavericks MC #1)

Chapter Sixteen

T he scent of sizzling vegetables filled the cabin, mingling with the earthy aroma of the log walls.

Eva perched on a stool at the counter. I found myself asking about her school days, hobbies, and career—genuinely curious about the woman behind the sharp wit and seeking to understand how she kept a dark side hidden beneath the professional facade.

Hawk circled our feet. His nails clicked against the hardwood floor as he hoped for a morsel to drop. I shooed him away with my foot, earning a disappointed whine.

“Can you get the minced garlic out of the fridge and add a teaspoon to the pan?” I asked Eva, my hands busy slicing chicken into even strips.

Eva brushed against me as she moved past, the brief contact sending a jolt through my system. Her eyes flicked to mine as she gauged my reaction. I kept my expression neutral, but my pulse quickened.

She rummaged through a drawer, found a spoon, then moved to the refrigerator. I watched from the corner of my eye as she dipped the spoon into the garlic container, eyeballing the measurement before flicking it into the sizzling pan. The pungent aroma intensified in seconds.

“Damn it. That’s easily a tablespoon,” I growled, more amused than annoyed.

She smirked. “Garlic is best measured with your heart.”

This woman was as infuriating as she was adorable. I bit back a smile, not wanting to encourage her.

“You like to cook?” she asked, moving a few ingredients to the side as she hoisted herself on the counter. Hawk sat at her feet, gazing at her with hopeful eyes.

“Yeah, I enjoy it,” I admitted, focusing on the pan to avoid getting lost in her gaze.

“I cooked dinner every night from the time I was thirteen to when I left for boot camp. Linc is five years younger, and our mom worked long hours as a nurse. My choices were either learn to cook or eat microwave dinners every night.”

Eva hesitated, reading between the lines. “What about your dad?”

I scraped the chicken into the pan. “Sentenced to life when I was twelve. Piece of shit of a human being.”

After washing my hands, I turned toward her and stepped closer. “What about your parents?” I asked, curious to hear her version of the story.

“My dad was in the military, and my mom got tired of moving around, so she left him. Then, we moved in with my dad after she died. My brother, Jace, was only around for a year before he enlisted. My dad trained military working dogs. That’s how I got into fostering.

I like volunteering to take on working breeds. I understand them.”

The vulnerability in her voice drew me in closer. “I’m sorry about your mom. That must have been hard.”

A mask slid into place in an instant. It became clear Eva still didn’t speak about the grief and trauma, even after two decades.

“Thank you,” she said in a curt tone. “Besides cooking, what else are you good at?”

A line drawn. A topic closed. She spun the conversation back to me with practiced ease.

“Motorcycles. Guns. Construction.”

Her eyes glinted with that sharp, suggestive edge I’d become all too familiar with. “So, you’re saying you’re good with your hands?”

Her flirtation never came across as subtle. There was always a challenge in it. A taunt and an awareness of the buttons she pushed, daring me to react. The woman was relentless. Always pushing, always testing. It both maddened and aroused me.

I’d battled a war within myself since the night I’d pinned her against that hallway wall at the clubhouse. My logical side recognized her as a distraction I didn’t need.

But my primal instincts, the part of me craving a challenge and release, fought against my control. And goddamn, did I want to give in. I wanted to prove how easily I could shatter her cool composure. I teetered on the edge of a fucking cliff and knew I couldn’t resist any longer.

I stepped in front of her and brushed my fingers against her knees. “I am very good with my hands.”

The statement came out as a promise, threat, and challenge all rolled into one.

Eva’s breath hitched. “Prove it.”

I ran my fingers in slow circles on the insides of her thighs, starting right above the knees and moving upward. My lips grazed hers in a soft, teasing kiss.

I pulled back and searched her eyes for consent.

Eva’s gaze was a dare. An invitation to take it further.

I spread my palms at the top of her thighs, pressing her legs apart as I leaned in to crush my lips against hers once again.

I slid my hands under her top, savoring the softness of her skin.

Breaking the kiss, I pulled the shirt over her head, then unclasped her bra.

I took a moment to admire her, the curve of her breasts, the way her nipples hardened under my gaze.

Eva arched her back, and a low moan escaped her lips as I took one nipple into my mouth while rolling the other between my fingers.

I kissed her chest and neck as my hands moved to the waistband of her skull leggings.

She lifted her hips, allowing me to pull them down—along with her lacy black thong.

“Wait,” she breathed, her voice husky.

I stopped, surprised. I didn’t think I’d misread the signals. Even now, her body vibrated with every touch.

“What’s your actual name?”

I hesitated for a moment. I rarely used my real name anymore. I’d been known as Reaper since boot camp, and it had become my road name once I’d joined the Mavericks.

“Why do you want to know?” I asked, letting my fingers drift across her stomach. “Planning to run a background check?”

Eva’s smile was trouble. “Just want to know what to scream when you stop asking questions.”

I huffed a laugh. “You think you’ll have enough breath left for that?”

She leaned in, her lips brushing my ear. “Fucking try me.”

I liked her boldness. I liked her smart mouth even more. “Roman. That’s the name you’ll be begging for.” Only the government and my mother called me Roman. And now Eva would, too.

She grinned, her pupils dilated and cheeks flushed. “Roman,” she repeated in a low, taunting tone. “I don’t beg for anyone or anything. You’ll be the one begging.”

I smirked as her hands started to move down my chest. I caught them, pinning her wrists between us as my lips grazed against her throat.

“You want to keep mouthing off, or do you want to find out how loud I can make you scream? And how long I’ll make you beg?”

I kissed down her chest, pausing again at her pebbled nipples before running my lips down her stomach.

I released her wrists and she leaned back on her elbows, flattening the surface of her body to allow better access.

As my teeth scraped her hip bones, Eva arched her back with a sharp intake of breath.

I ran my hand up her thigh once more, this time brushing my thumb against her clit.

Eva moaned again, her head tilted back in the pleasure of the sensations.

I dipped my head down, swiping my tongue up her center before sucking at the bundle of nerves at the apex of her thighs. She was already slick with desire.

“Oh, fuck, Roman,” she said in a strained whisper as if she struggled to hold it together.

“Let go,” I said before swirling my tongue against her again. “Just enjoy the ride.”

Her hips bucked as I worked her with my tongue and fingers.

I chuckled against her as she swore in a strained whisper.

Her climax hit hard and fast, her body shuddering beneath me.

As she came down from her high, I scooped her up, wrapping her legs around my waist. I carried her to the bedroom, pausing only to turn the stove to simmer.

I planted her on the bed, admiring her naked form as I reached for the back of my T-shirt and pulled it over my head.

I paused. “Please tell me you’re on birth control.”

She only nodded in response. Thank God, because I kept my condoms in my spare room at the clubhouse, and riding my bike to the store at this point would be uncomfortable as fuck.

Eva watched my every move, and hunger shone in her stormy eyes. I unbuttoned my jeans and kicked them to the floor. Fuck me, this woman was as beautiful as she was dangerous. My heart raced as I stood at the edge of the bed.

Crawling over her on the soft blue quilt, I began to slowly kiss her neck again.

Her hands roamed all over me—running down my abs, my back, my cock.

The sensations overwhelmed me, making it hard to focus, to stay in control.

I sat up, leaning back on my heels to grab her wrists and pin them above her head.

Eva’s eyes lit up with excitement, reminding me of our first encounter.

“Do I need to remind you of our little conversation in the hallway at the club? When I said you’d be begging me?” I teased my cock against her, and she arched her hips into me.

“Roman, please.”

As much as I wanted to continue to tease her, to make her beg, I couldn’t hold back any longer. I’d craved Eva since the moment I set eyes on her. I slid into her, giving her a few breaths to adjust.

“Fuck,” I moaned, each letter of the word escaping my mouth slowly. I crushed my mouth to hers in a kiss as violent as our pasts.

As I thrust into her, our pace became a desperate plea to release the tension that had started building a week ago when we’d first met. I released her wrists and moved my hands to her hips, seeking leverage.

“Fuck. Oh, fuck,” she said in a breathy moan. “Roman, faster. Harder.” She ran her fingers over my shoulders before gripping my biceps.

She tightened, approaching another orgasm. Her pleas drove me wild. I quickened my pace, my own release barreling right behind hers. She arched her body and tilted her head back against the pillow, tightening around me like a vise just moments before I pulsed inside of her.

I moved over, leaning to my side. “Fuck me, that was …” I trailed off, unsure how to describe how my heart raced in my chest.

“Yeah,” Eva agreed, still panting. “That was really …”

“Fucking amazing isn’t enough to describe it, is it?”