Too Hard to Handle (Black Knights Inc. #8)(104)

If Dan will just hurry the hell up!

She waited impatiently by the front door of her greystone, straining her ears for the sound of his monster Harley. There. From up the street came the rumble of rolling thunder. She stepped onto the stoop and craned her head, her eyes searching. A flash of shiny red caught her attention. Heartbreaker. That was the name of his bike. And it looked the part. From its intricate cherry bomb–colored paint job, chrome battery box in the shape of a cracked heart, and twisty, turny exhaust pipes that grumbled and coughed and shook the air around them, it was enough to make every female—and male, for that matter—stare and wonder and ache and wish.

But right now, the only thing she wished was that Dan would get his fine ass moving. Because now that she’d made her decision, now that she had her mission set before her, she was ready to get going on it. Beyond ready. Like, she wanted to kick her own butt for not thinking of this yesterday.

Just keep calm and carry on.

Stuff it! she told the annoying voice.

Dan roared up to the curb, looking frustratingly handsome in biker boots, jeans, and leather jacket. Oh, and thin. He looked thin and comfortable and not nearly thirty-nine weeks pregnant. The bastard.

“I had to wait thirty minutes in line,” he told her after shutting down Heartbreaker’s engine and pulling off his helmet. He shook out his shaggy hair. The blonder streaks caught in the afternoon sunlight, glowing like a halo. But she knew for a fact the man was far from a saint. And to that end, she planned to insist he join her on a sinning spree very, very soon. “And then when I ordered the hot dogs with extra, extra peppers, they had to go in the back and open a new tub.”

“Forget the damned hot dogs,” she called, waddling—yes waddling, there was just no other way to describe it—down the steps and toward the curb.

He stopped making his way up the walk, his chin jerking back. “Forget the hot dogs? Did you miss the part where I just said I had to stand in line for thirty minutes to—”

She closed the distance between them, grabbed the lapels of his biker jacket, and silenced him with a kiss. Oh my… For a second she forgot everything—her plan, her reason, her surroundings. Because his lips were smooth and firm, just as she remembered them. His tongue wet and bold, stealing into her mouth to conquer and claim. His arms strong and sure as they wrapped around her waist. No, not waist. She hadn’t seen her waist in months.

But that was neither here nor there, because Christ, she’d missed his kisses. Dreamed about them…every flippin’ night. And had been so tempted by the thought of them, the memory of them, that she’d almost said screw it to all her reasons for not pursuing the physical side of their relationship during these past—

“Mmm,” he hummed into her mouth. His breath was fresh and minty. Then, to her everlasting annoyance, he was breaking the suction of their lips and staring down at her, his eyes narrowed. “What…?”

He didn’t say anything more. Didn’t need to. Because her MO ever since those crazy two days surrounding the events of Cusco and Chicago had been to keep him at arm’s length. It had been difficult enough to harden her heart against his declarations of love and support, and she’d known it would have been hopeless to try to maintain her position once he took her to bed, once she allowed herself to revel in his arms, in his knowledgeable, soul-shaking lovemaking. So she’d implemented a no-nooky policy after she moved to Chicago and a no-dirty-talk policy during their daily—yeah, they’d eventually become daily—phone calls.

And talk about torture. It’d been nearly impossible to keep her hands and her mouth to herself. Why pregnancy should have evolved to make a woman horny out of her mind was something she did not understand. I mean, the deed is already done! Why saddle a woman with an increased urge to mate? And then, while Dan had been out hunting for hot dogs with extra peppers and she’d been lying on the sofa trying to find a comfortable position—and cursing Dan’s name for doing this to her—she’d had a grand epiphany.

“I want you to make love to me,” she told him now, dragging him with her up the walk and the stoop. Pulling him inside the bottom-floor apartment.

“Excuse me?” he asked after he booted the door closed. “I thought you said you—”

“Shit, I know what I said,” she groused. “But forget about it. I don’t care about any of that right now. The tacos from last night didn’t work. The Thai food for lunch didn’t work. These extra peppers on the hot dogs aren’t going work. That old saying about spicy food must be a myth. And I’m tired of not being able to get comfortable. I’m tired of being fat—”

“You’re not fat.” He smiled, his eyes roaming over her as if he’d never seen anything so beautiful. She wanted to punch him in the face. “You’re gorgeous and glowing and—”

“And I’m tired of waiting for this kid of yours to decide that he or she is ready to make an appearance.” She grabbed his lapels and yanked him down until they were nose to nose. “Sex can induce labor. So let’s have some sex.”

“Penni”—he curled his hands around hers, forcing her clawed hands to release the leather of his jacket—“you’re not thinking straight. You’re exhausted and—”

“Damnit, Dan!” she hissed. If she could have shot fire from her eyes, she would have set his hair ablaze. “You put this thing inside me. Now you help me get it out!”