Page 18 of Unbound By You (The Viper’s MC #1)
HARLOW
“ W hat are these?” he asks, scrolling through the damning images I absolutely shouldn’t have.
“My next job, or so Macon thinks. He gave me these before you came bursting into his office.” And then it dawns on me. “Wait, how did you even know I was there?”
“I tagged your bike.”
“Of course you did. Stalker.” I let out a little laugh.
“Only when it comes to you, baby. So, what exactly is the job? And what does it have to do with the club?”
This is it, the point of no return where I finally let this man in on my position. I’m not going against him. Suppose it was any other club or person, then, okay, great. But Silas being involved made it a no-go, even before he stepped foot in Macon’s office.
Mentally nodding permission to myself before coming out with it, I blurt, “Macon’s boss wants me to figure out where you stashed whatever is in these crates.” I quirk an eyebrow at him, seeing if he’ll give that tidbit of information away.
He doesn’t bite, but he reaches up and rubs his beard like an evil mastermind planning his next move to take over the world.
I can’t help the image that surfaces in my mind, and the laughter bubbles out.
The THC is running deep through my system now.
It takes over, draining any lingering anxiety and worry from my brain. It feels good.
“Are you done?” he butts in, but the white smile splitting his face only makes him more striking.
No man should be this good-looking. It’s distracting. It’s dangerous. Especially when my body fixates on the way his warmth seeps into mine and his fingers drag lazy lines up and down my jean-covered thighs. It makes me wish I’d taken two seconds to change before coming out here.
“Wildcat?”
“Mhmm.”
“If you keep looking at me like that, this conversation’s going to have to pause until I get another taste of your tempting cunt.”
“Oh no, whatever shall we do?” I tease, biting my bottom lip and tracing my own fingers along the corded muscle in his tattooed-covered forearm.
“Stand up,” he orders.
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me. Stand that fine ass up.”
“Yes, sir.” I mock salute him and climb off the lounger, teetering back and forth in my boots.
“Boots off.”
I give the order a thought but decide against following his instructions.
I peel my shirt over my head, wad it up, and toss it right into his face.
That smile’s back and pulls one from me, too.
We probably look like a couple of idiots grinning wildly at each other.
Thankfully, there’s no one around for miles to pass judgment.
That little fact ratchets up my desire, and I reach behind me for the clasp on my bra.
A breeze blows through the backyard, dancing over my heated skin, drawing my nipples to hardened points that tighten further when Silas focuses all his attention on them.
I swapped out the silver bars for the black snakes, and he seems to appreciate them even more.
I wonder if I subconsciously picked them out of the bunch for him specifically.
“Are you ever going to listen to me?”
“Would you still be interested if I did?”
“Touché.”
Since he concedes, I toe off my boots, kicking them out of the way, before they land with a thud on the porch. “Your turn. Shirt off.”
He’s better at listening than I am. He reaches back, doing that man trick of somehow pulling his shirt off with one hand. The expansive artwork across his chest and torso steals my attention. How did I miss it before? But he shifts, and the plastic of the second skin ripples over the new ink.
“Si,” I say in a whisper.
“Yeah, baby.”
“What is that?” I ask, pointing to his left rib cage.
“Do you like her?”
The black and gray work is slightly distorted from the inky plasma under the covering, but there’s no mistaking the half-woman, half-panther with deep emerald eyes.
“It’s beautiful, but when? Why?”
“Last night, and I think you know the answer to that.”
“You’re crazy.”
“For you.”
I’m completely disarmed by this man in front of me.
He’s everything I’ve always wanted and exactly what I need in a partner for the life I live.
I’ll never have to worry that he’ll find the flecks of blood I missed when cleaning up after a job or have to explain why I keep a small arsenal in a duffle bag under the floorboards.
I need to go back for those.
I can’t with him. Every word and action feels like a trap to catch me off guard and drag me into his perfectly laid plans. One grand gesture, and I can’t get my jeans off quickly enough.
“Want a taste? Come get it.”
Silas is up and out of the lounger in a blur, my body plucked from the porch and supported in his arms as he backs me up. My ass hits something hard and cold, but he could drop me on a patch of ice, and it still wouldn’t be enough to cool my body from the searing heat of his lips all over my skin.
“New rule,” he growls. “No more clothes, ever.”
I scoff and roll my eyes. He’s a man high on the moment and the potent ass weed I got from Pierce.
“That might make for some uncomfortable meetings with your brothers at the club, don’t you think?”
He pinches my nipple hard before dropping to his knees and throwing my thighs over his shoulders. He doesn’t respond, but his teeth nip against the sensitive flesh between my thighs.
“Ahh,” I call out, but he doesn’t leave me in pain long.
His tongue laps at my center, working up my slit to my pulsing clit, before ringing around the sensitive nub and adding a finger into the mix. It’s a perfect storm that he refuses to back away from.
“Silas!” I scream to the heavens as the stars blink back at me. My sweat-slicked skin making the stone counter of the outdoor kitchen slippery. The shockwaves of the orgasm crest, pulling me back into my body.
His eyes lift from his kneeling position between my thighs to meet mine. The self-satisfied smirk pulling at his lips brings my attention to the glisten of my release coating his beard.
“You’ve had your taste. Should we get back to business?” I ask, my voice hoarse from screaming without a care.
“Business? What business? The only thing I’m concerned about right now is the feel of your soaked pussy pulsing around my rock-solid cock, wife.”
“Ugh, don’t call me that!”
His aura invades every inch of my space as he moves in close, and his lips coast against the ridges of mine. That thick bulge behind his rough jeans pushes against my sensitive yet still needy core. And I tilt my hips on the hard stone, trying to create some distance.
“Just accept your fate, wildcat. No need to fight me when we both know you really want it.”
I can’t stop the question from slipping past my defenses in my hazy state. “But do you?”
His deep laughter catches between us and he’s down again on bended knee. I’m not ready for a second round on his tongue so soon, but his hand disappears behind him, and it returns with a small black box that now sits displayed on his palm.
His tattooed-covered fingers pull the box open, and there, displayed between velvet cushions, sits a gold band with a small solitaire diamond.
“Harlow, I know you want to fight me, baby. So, fight me on everything for the rest of our lives, but this. Take my mother’s ring and leave it on your finger where I’ve known it’s belonged for longer than I think I really realized.
You’re mine even when all this is over. When Macon is handled, and his boss is dealt with.
I’ll still expect this here,” he says while slipping the ring onto my finger.
I’m naked. Splayed out in the backyard. The imposing gold band glints off what little light splays across the deck. It’s so much, all at once, yet it feels right in my gut. I’m not ready to admit that in words quite yet, so I knock the box from his hands and haul him back into my orbit.
My hands move quickly, pulling his belt free and shoving his jeans down with the help of my bare feet. He gets the drift and takes over, kicking them away and gripping my neck tightly to bring my lips back to his.
“I’ll take it,” he says between punishing nips and licks.
He thrusts deep, pulling my ass off the counter to hold me steady in his hands as he takes exactly what he wants. From my body. From my mind. And I think he realizes, when I shudder in his arms for the second time tonight, from my heart, too.