Page 19 of Riding the Line (Steel Saints MC #1)

He pressed a kiss against my bare shoulder, where my top had slipped down. “Baby girl, you are always welcome in my bed. Now, go to sleep. You’ll need your energy for tomorrow.”

I was asleep before I even registered his words.

When I woke up again, the sunlight was fighting its way through the thick curtains, and a nearby clock told me it was just past nine.

Dalton was still asleep—he had rolled over onto his back at some point—and I smiled when I realized the comforter was tented to a rather impressive height over his groin.

Deciding I was already in it this far, I used every ounce of stealth in my body to slide deeper under the sheets.

He groaned like he was waking up when I pulled down his shorts, but a quick peek told me he was still asleep.

His cock was fully erect, the veins in it making my pussy practically weep.

I was dying to know how he felt inside of me, but first, I wanted to give him a little bit of the pleasure he had given me in the office.

He twitched when I slid my lips over him, and I relaxed my throat as much as I could until I reached his base.

Mouth wrapped around him, I licked him from the tip down, and began to suck like I was trying to drag his soul out.

His hips bucked, and this time, when he groaned, he said, “Damnit, Vixen, holy fuck…”

I smiled around him and didn’t hold back—taking him into my mouth like I wanted to wreck him with the same hunger he stirred in me.

He flipped the covers back and fisted his hand in my hair.

I peered up at him through my lashes and dragged my teeth gently up the shaft before licking the precum off the tip, and sucking him back down to the base.

“Just like that, baby girl, let me see those pretty lips work.”

I loved it when his pretty boy persona slipped—the man who gave me orders in bed was a man used to being in charge. To having his orders obeyed. I moaned, knowing he would feel the vibration, and wrapped my hand around the base of his cock as I bobbed my head up and down with zeal.

He came with a shout, shooting down my throat, and I nearly choked.

The grip he had on my head was almost painful as he held me where he wanted me, and I fucking loved it.

When he was done, he leaned up and grabbed my waist, pulling me onto him.

He flipped us both until I was underneath him, and kissed me with a hunger that I readily responded to.

He pressed his knee between my thighs, and I ground against it, desperate for release from the pressure building inside my core.

I reached for him and found him already hard again—wrapping my hand around him, I tried to guide his cock towards my entrance.

He stopped me, grabbing my wrist and pinning me to the sheets. “You better be sure about this, baby girl.”

I bucked impatiently against him, and he smirked at me. “Damnit, Dalton… I’m sure.”

That was all he needed to hear. With one hard thrust, he was seated deep inside me, and I shouted with pleasure.

He wasn’t gentle, or slow. No, he fit himself inside me like he had already decided it was home.

He didn’t just fuck me. He worshipped my body.

Hand around my throat for more control. Nibbling sensitive skin.

Pinching my breasts. Thumbing my clit as he pounded into me.

Pulling my hair and whispering things in my ear.

Over the next couple of hours, I lost count of how many times he made me come. Until then, I had considered myself a lucky girl to finish more than once. But Dalton introduced me to positions I had never even thought of. It was hot. It was rough. It was dirty. And I loved everything about it.

Afterward, we lay there in each other’s arms. He had gotten a warm washcloth and cleaned me up, something no one had ever done before.

I was blissfully spent and very glad to be on the pill.

His seed had spilled out onto my thighs.

It hadn’t bothered me—I trusted him to be clean, and he had felt the same.

As he ran the damp cloth across my thighs, I felt him hesitate.

That’s when I realized… Shit . There were just some things you couldn’t cover up.

Like a fucking bullet wound.

He traced the spot just above my pelvic bone.

Shelly and I had busted a drug dealer who had been lacing his goods with fentanyl.

When we cornered him, he got off a couple shots.

I still remember the sudden, burning pain before I hit the ground.

Shelly fired two rounds into his chest, then ran to my side.

It wasn’t a mortal wound, but it hurt like hell.

My heart raced, trying to explain away the scar.

“That’s a bullet wound, Vixen.” He lifted his head to meet my eyes, and I swallowed.

“Yes.”

He raised an eyebrow, and I looked away.

“Who was shooting at you, baby girl?”

“Just the wrong place, wrong time. I’m sorry. It’s a bad memory. Can we talk about something else?”

He looked at me for a second, and I prayed he wouldn’t see through the lie. Then he kissed the slightly raised mark, finished cleaning my legs, and lay next to me. I thanked my lucky stars he believed me.

And cursed every one of them for having to lie to a man who deserved the truth.

One evening after dinner, I decided to go for a swim in the lake.

To my delight, Dalton had packed me a swimsuit and I changed eagerly before diving into the cool waters.

I swam for a bit, before flipping onto my back and floating.

I could hear the crickets and feel the breeze as it caressed my exposed belly.

For the first time in days—hell, maybe weeks—I wasn’t thinking about reports or missing girls or what name I was supposed to answer to.

I was just… here.

Movement out of the corner of my eye had me glancing over at the dock, and I found Dalton watching me, his arms crossed and a soft, small smile on his face.

“You gonna stand there like a creeper or are you going to join?”

He tilted his head at me. “Depends. I kind of like just watching you.”

Slowly, my eyes never leaving his, I reached up around my neck and untied my top. I pulled it off and held it in the air. Like waving a red flag at a bull. “Just watching, huh?”

His grin widened. Slow, wicked. I slipped under the surface and swam closer to the dock. When I came up for air, I was much closer, and he was crouching by the edge. With a sharp look in his eyes and his elbows on his knees, he looked like a predator. Ready to leap.

I reached under the surface, wiggled out of the bottoms, and with a flick of my wrist, tossed them onto the dock. They landed with a wet slap at his feet.

“Oops,” I said, blinking up at him innocently.

“You’re gonna kill me, Vixen.”

“Better men have tried,” I said, treading water.

“True,” he said, his voice suddenly quiet. “But none of them were you.”

I froze. Just for a second. Because somewhere underneath the teasing, I heard it—the truth.

The pain. I ducked back beneath the water, my heart hammering, and when I came up again, he was gone from the edge.

A second later, I heard the splash behind me.

I didn’t turn around. I just smiled and let him come to me.

A moment later, strong arms wrapped around my waist from behind.

He pulled me gently against him, bare skin sliding against mine beneath the surface, his lips brushing the curve of my shoulder.

“You really know how to test a man’s self-control,” he murmured, voice low and rough in my ear.

“Pretty sure we left self-control back at the cabin,” I whispered, tilting my head so he could kiss the line of my throat.

He chuckled softly, and I felt the rumble of it against my back.

His hands wandered—slowly, reverently—down my arms, over my hips, across the small of my back.

Touches that weren’t rushed or greedy, just…

intentional. Like he was memorizing the feel of me.

I turned in his arms, wrapping my legs around his waist as our lips met.

The kiss was slow, deep, hungry in the way quiet moments always are—the kind that doesn’t need an audience or a bed, just breath and water and want.

He held me like I was something precious, our bodies weightless in the lake, but tethered to each other by the ache that had been building between us for weeks.

He shifted us, swimming toward the dock with me still wrapped around him.

The water lapped against us as he carried me, the sun casting fire across the ripples.

When we reached the dock, he lifted me like I weighed nothing and set me gently on the warm wood, then pulled himself up beside me.

The air kissed our wet skin as we fell together, tangled limbs, beating hearts, slick and shimmering under the golden sky.

He hovered over me, brushing damp strands of hair from my face, his expression open in a way I hadn’t seen before.

“I don’t think I’ve ever wanted someone the way I want you.”

I reached up, touched his cheek, and let my thumb trace the curve of his lips. “I tried fighting it, you know. You did, too. Let’s make the giving in, the wait, worth it.”

The rest of the world faded. The trees, the lake, the danger waiting back in town.

For a while, there was only the heat of his skin, the soft press of lips on mine, the sunset wrapping us in gold.

This wasn’t the rough, burning passion that had consumed us inside the cabin.

The water had washed away the fear. The hesitation. The lies.

He made love to me like I was his goddess, and he was my priest.

When the stars took the sky and we finally went inside, we curled up in front of the fireplace, bare and warm and real.

We didn’t talk.

We didn’t need to.

On Sunday, before we left, we were standing on the pier again. I sat between his legs, leaning against his back. He whispered in my ear, “I’m damn glad I met you. This is the happiest I’ve been in a long, long time, Vixen.”

I thought about those words over and over as we rode home, and I discovered what it felt like to feel your heart burst and break at the same time. Would he forgive me when he found out the truth?