Firestorm (Sons of Templar MC #2)(24)

Brock leaned forward, his eyes turning dark and serious. “Because I fully intend on getting into your panties. I would be more than willing to tear down a thousand of those suit-wearing pansies, because sweetheart, if your * tastes as good as I think it does, its f*ckin’ worth it,” he murmured.

Okay, so I didn’t know what I’d done to make this guy think I had a golden vagina, but the promise of sex in his tone made me reluctant to correct him. I only hoped my lady parts didn’t get performance anxiety. That was if I did actually decide to go home with him.

“You really think talking to me like that and acting like a possessive ape is going to get me to go home with you?” It totally would.

Brock’s eyes twinkled for a second then darkened. “I think we both know it’s a matter of time before I get that sweet ass in my bed. I just don’t wanna wait. I wanna get you on the back of my bike and f*ck you till you don’t remember your own name,” he declared hoarsely.

I tried to think of a witty response or even to find some willpower to get up and walk away from the infuriating sex god, but neither happened. I worried about my ability to strut off effectively due to the potency of the cocktails I had consumed. Those very same cocktails caused me to get up. Screw it.

“Okay then, let’s go,” I said to him as he got up too, anticipating an escape attempt.

His eyebrows rose at my statement, as if he expected some kind of catch.

“Your place or mine?” I continued impatiently. Now that I had committed myself to the idea of sleeping with Brock I was tingling with sexual anticipation.

His gaze turned hooded. “Mine’s closer.”

“Right,” I said, losing my breath at the carnal look he was devouring me with. I pointed at him. “Let’s get one thing straight. I am not ‘yours’. I do not belong to anyone. This isn’t the prelude to some intense biker relationship you all seem to be so fond of. It’s just sex,” I declared.

Brock stepped forward into my space and it felt like the air crackled. “Works for me. As long as I get inside you in the next thirty minutes.”

We stared at each other for a couple of moments. His hand rested lightly on my upper back and he guided me out. My only focus was on the hand that was currently setting my body on fire as he directed me toward the exit. I did notice Laura Maye’s knowing grin and not so subtle thumbs up. I grinned stupidly back at her.

The brisk breeze of the night caused me to sober up slightly, but it didn’t affect what Brock’s sex hormones were doing to me.

“Fuck it, I can’t wait—especially when you’re wearing a dress like that,” he mumbled.

His hands tightened at my waist and he yanked my body flush against him. I let out a little sound of surprise before he covered my mouth with his. His kiss was brutal, unrelenting and a hundred and twelve on the hotness scale. His hands moved down to cup my ass and I ground into him, quite prepared to have sex on the street the way things were going.

My plans for indecent exposure were foiled when he released me.

“Jesus,” he muttered.

In the streetlights his eyes glowed and a fierce look crossed his face. “We need to get you on the back of my bike.” He grabbed my hand, pulling me towards his Harley. Of course I had known a biker would be driving a motorcycle but I hadn’t factored that into tonight’s transportation.

Brock handed me a helmet. I glanced down at it, not taking it. “I can’t get on that,” I declared.

Brock’s eyes narrowed in disapproval. “The little princess too good to ride on the back of my bike?” His voice was low.

I shook my head. “Not at all. Given proper warning and enough time to put together a suitable outfit I’d be jumping on. But this,” I gestured down, “is Alexander McQueen.”

Brock eyed me. “I don’t give a f*ck what that is. Get on the f*ckin’ bike so I can take you home and eat your * until you pass out,” he commanded roughly.

I shivered at his words. Alexander who? I snatched the helmet.

The ringing of a phone interrupted my efforts not to jump him on the sidewalk. Brock glanced down at the display. “Fuck,” he muttered. He glanced up at me. “A second, Sparky.”

“This better be f*ckin’ important,” he hissed into the phone. I watched him silently listen to whoever was on the other side with a hard jaw. “I’ll be there in twenty,” he bit out furiously.

I pouted at him like a sullen child after hearing his last comment. He ran his hand through his hair. “We’re gonna have to raincheck, babe, something’s come up.”

My vagina and I both frowned at him. Actually I think it was safe to say I glowered.

He stepped forward, lightly grasping my hips. “Fuck, normally I wouldn’t let anything interrupt me getting in there.” His palm crept to my ass. “But this shit is pressing and it’s something that can’t wait.” He sounded genuine and supremely pissed. But I was drunk and horny and his sincerity meant sweet f*ck all at this moment.

“Get on, I’ll take you home,” he said, stepping back.

“No way,” I responded quickly and with a slight hint of venom in my tone. I stepped back, out of his grasp. I needed to be out of range of his male pheromones in order to practice the feat of extracting myself from his presence without humping his leg.