Firestorm (Sons of Templar MC #2)(20)

We had formed a bit of a huddle and I was currently squeezed with Rosie on one side and Brock on the other. I didn’t miss the way his arm brushed mine, nor did he miss the way I leaned into him. We didn’t speak; well, apart from him whispering in my ear, “Need a ride home tonight, Sparky? Think you’ve been sampling your wares a bit too much.”

I failed to hide my shiver at his breath at my ear and glanced up at him, nodding. We both knew he was giving me much more than a ride. Or maybe more than one kind. Har har.

His hair had been released from its bun and was falling in waves around his face. Seriously hot. I wanted to rake my fingers through it. I had to form my hands into fists so I didn’t do just that.

“Okay, I think I need to go home now. The room is spinning and not in a good way. For future reference Amy has a heavy hand with the liquor when making cocktails,” Rosie declared, wobbling slightly.

“I’ll take you home, Rose. I’m dropping the heavy-handed bartender off, you’re on the way,” Brock said.

“Oh, right on. Thanks, Brocky. Do you need my car? I don’t fancy trying to fit two of us on the back of your bike,” Rosie replied, smiling vacantly.

“Got a cage babe. Knew you girls were bound to suck back too many cocktails. We had contingency plans,” Brock declared. “And I thought we talked about you calling me that,” he added, frowning.

“Calling you what?” Rosie asked innocently.

“You know what.”

“No, I don’t,” she argued.

Lucky and Dwayne shook their heads, grinning.

“For f*ck’s sake, just get your ass out the door and into the truck,” Brock ordered, running his hands through his hair.

I followed their journey, entranced.

Rosie stayed put, frowning at Brock. I knew from experience that no matter how drunk a woman was she did not respond well to getting ordered around. Well, outside the bedroom at least.

I turned to let Gwen into the circle, my movement pushing me closer to Brock. I felt his hand brush my ass and my eyes flared in surprise.

“Are you okay to get home?” she asked me with concern, unaware I had just been fondled by a cocky biker.

I swallowed, ignoring the flames of desire that had followed said fondling.

“Yeah girl, Brock here is taking me and Rosie home,” I informed her, eyes on Brock. His gaze was hot on mine.

“Thanks, Brock,” she said, her voice a little breathy. I didn’t blame her; this guy had a presence. An air of sex, if you will. “No problem, Gwen. Kick ass brownies, by the way.” He grinned at her.

That’s it, I deduced. I was making brownies if it got me a smile like that. It didn’t matter that I couldn’t boil an egg. I’d figure out a way.

At that moment tattooed arms circled around Gwen and Cade pulled her against him, whispering in her ear. I gaped at them for a second. The fact that Gwen was wearing a thousand dollar dress, made up to the nines and Cade wearing jeans and a leather cut was inconsequential. They looked right. Like they fit. A little ball of happiness settled in my gut. Gwen deserved this.

At that point we said our goodbyes, me leaving my best friend and her biker to start what looked like a romance for the history books. Brock opened the door for Rosie and she glanced up at him.

“Thanks, Brocky,” she said, shooting out the door.

“Jesus Christ,” Brock muttered. He turned to me, putting his hand at my waist. “Let’s get you home, Sparky.” His eyes locked onto mine and my stomach flipped at the erotic suggestion behind them. I couldn’t get out the door fast enough.

Rosie chattered throughout the journey; it was pleasant and Brock obviously thought of her as a younger sister. He even got out and walked her to her door and helped her inside when we made it to her place. Biker gentleman. Who would have thought? But I didn’t need a gentleman. I’d had one of those. That didn’t work out. I would be really pissed off if Brock was a nice guy hidden underneath tattoos and leather.

We had been driving in silence. It wasn’t uncomfortable but it was loaded; you could cut the sexual tension with a knife. I squirmed slightly in my seat, feeling turned on already and he hadn’t even touched me. I felt his eyes turn to me, then lower to my exposed legs.

“Fuck,” he muttered.

I would have smirked at the statement had he not sounded...disappointed? Something in his tone puzzled me. We pulled up my driveway and he turned off the engine. Good sign.

“Do you wanna come in for a drink?” I asked, not intending on offering him any actual refreshment once we got into the house. But we needed the pretense. I couldn’t very well ask ‘Do you want to come in for some no doubt mind blowing sex? Never mind the fact we just met.’ Well, I could, but I was going to act like a lady until we got inside at least. Then I’d release my inner nympho.

Brock ran his hand through his hair and locked his eyes on mine. The desire was unmistakable.

“Yeah, I f*ckin’ do,” he started, and I sensed a but. “But I just gotta get a couple of things straight first. Then I’d like nothing more than to taste every inch of you, see if you’re as wild in bed as I think you are, Sparky.” His voice turned rough at the end.

“Wha…what do you need to get straight?” I stuttered, fighting the wetness in my underwear and the little voice that was telling me to pounce on him.