Reaper's Stand (Reapers Motorcycle Club Book 4)(29)

No, you want him in bed, my brain insisted. You want more kisses like the one he gave you at the Armory.

Unacceptable. I ignored Jess, walking over to him, determined to take control of the situation.

“Thanks for bringing her home,” I said, forcing myself to be polite even though—like usual—he simultaneously scared the crap out of me and turned me on. I also resented the fact that he’d invaded my space, which made no sense at all considering he was only trying to help out. Of course, it could be the fact that I was still a little worked up from my makeout session with Nate. Hayes was just so big and rugged . . . Every time he moved, his arms flexed, and I wanted to wrap my hand around his bicep and feel those muscles working.

Snap out of it!

“I’ve got things from here,” I told him.

He jerked his chin toward my teenage drama queen.

“You sure about that?” he asked. “Kid needs a wake-up call.”

“I got it,” I repeated. “Let me walk you to the door.”

He snorted, then pushed himself off the counter.

“Gee, thanks, Pic, sure nice of you to bring her home. You wanna sit for a bit, maybe have a drink?” he muttered sarcastically as I pulled the door open. I rolled my eyes at him.

“I’ve already got all the drama I need,” I said, unable to stop a rueful smile. He didn’t smile back. Nope. He just looked at me for long seconds, something heavy and tangible growing in the air between us. I could almost see the wheels spinning in his head. Then he shook his head slowly, as if making a decision.

“I don’t do drama, sweetheart.”

Hayes stepped toward me and I bit back a startled squeak as he stalked across the floor, the ancient carpet allowing him to move silently, like some kind of great predator.

Please go out the door. Please go out the door. Please go out the door!

He didn’t go out the door. He came to a halt about two inches from me, then reached over and caught the back of my head, burrowing his fingers into my hair. Then Hayes tugged me toward him, fingers tightening almost painfully. I stopped breathing as he lowered his head to mine.

His lips brushed across my cheekbone and I shivered. I swear to God, if he’d touched me between my legs it couldn’t have felt better than that slight whisper of sensation.

I wanted him more than Nate, I realized. A lot more.

“You have fun on your date?” he asked, his voice low and heated. “Jess gave me all the details on the way back. She thinks your deputy boyfriend is a douche. Have to say I agree. Nate Evans is a pissant little shit.”

“I know you’re talking about me!” Jessie yelled, startling me so much I jerked in his hold, hair pulling painfully. I’d sort of forgotten about her playing Camille on the sofa. “Stop telling lies about me. I’m going to my room.”

She threw herself off the couch and stomped down the hallway, snorting and shaking her head. Probably just as well—she was self-absorbed enough that she obviously didn’t even notice what was happening between me and Hayes. Best to keep it that way.

His other hand wrapped around my waist, tugging me deep into his body. His hips pushed into mine suggestively and I felt the coiled strength in his arms. My nipples hardened (traitorous little bitches) and my eyes widened.

Hayes offered a knowing smile.

“Your girl told me he’s no good for you,” he said. “Of course, that might just be because he arrested two of her friends last week. Let one of them off, booked the other. Girl who walked free was real pretty, too. He tell you about that?”

“Why would he?” I gasped as his hand slid down my rear, fingers cupping and tightening on me. He tilted my head as casually as if I were a doll, studying my mouth. Nate, I reminded myself frantically. Less than an hour ago you were in bed with your boyfriend. Good guy, not a thug, unlike some. “He arrests people all the time.”

“You know the sheriff’s a good friend of the club?” he asked, his voice mesmerizing. I shook my head as much as I could, wondering where he was going with this. “He and I like to get together every week or so, share a beer. He’s got lots to say about your boy.”

“Nate’s not a boy.”

Hayes’s lips ghosted across mine, and then he sucked my lower lip into his mouth. My legs clenched and in that instant I wanted him far more than I’d ever wanted anyone else. More than Nate, more than my ex . . . more than my high school boyfriend who took my virginity in a frantic, pawing frenzy when I was seventeen years old at a party out at Hauser Lake. I wanted that big, hard weapon of his deep inside me, spreading me open and pinning me down and making me scream until my voice broke.