“That’s not true.”
“It is, too.” Her gaze swept his body, from his feet to the top of his head. “Now you’re, what? Six-two or so?”
“Six-four.”
“Fine then. I’m five-six, so you’re almost a foot taller than me. And you have to outweigh me by over a hundred pounds, if not more, so I don’t think my mere presence scares the shit out of you.”
Darlin’, you have no idea.
“I just can’t figure out what it is about me that makes you keep your distance.”
“You don’t scare me, Jessie.”
“Yeah, I do.”
She moved in on him, and he backed up a step.
“Otherwise, you wouldn’t be backing away from me. So, see, I’m right. You are scared of me.”
“I’m not afraid of anything, or anyone.”
A small smile teased the corners of her mouth. “That kind of false bravado could get a guy killed in our line of work. Everyone is afraid of something. With me, it’s cliffs—looking over one and that fear of falling. Gives me a vicious case of vertigo. Oh, and I hate spiders in a major way. A girlie thing, I know, but I can’t help it. And I’m really not too keen about sleeping alone in the dark. I like a light on. So what about you? What scares you?”
“I told you. Nothing.”
He flattened his back against the door, but Jessie kept coming, pressing her palms against his chest and leveling him with a teasing grin. “Nothing except me. Big, bad Jessie scares you.”
She was playing a game. He wasn’t. “Stop.”
She did. She had to—there was nowhere else to go unless she climbed up on him. He smothered a groan at the visual that presented. Naked, her full br**sts pressed against his chest. Her legs wrapped around him, his hands filled with her sweet ass as she bounced up and down on his cock. Her pu**y would be wet, tight, gripping and squeezing him until he shot loads of come inside her.
Shit. “Get out of here, Jess.”
“Why?”
He inhaled. Big mistake. The scent of her filled the air around him. Intoxicating, sensual. He went hard in an instant.
“Because you’re playing with fire, little girl.”
Her eyes went smoky. “I’m not a little girl. And I like a little heat, Diaz.”
Invitation was written all over her face, her body. Tempting. Oh, so tempting.
But that’s not what they were here for. And this was Jessie, not some random woman to fuck. It was Jessie. He had no right. She belonged to all of them, all the Wild Riders. All the guys who counted on him to take care of her. Because they all loved her.
Like a sister.
He grasped her by the shoulders, taking in and memorizing the small surprised gasp she made. He wanted to put his lips on hers, to swallow her gasp, to slide his tongue inside her mouth and taste her.
God, he wanted that bad.
He pushed her back the few inches it took to open the door and set her on the other side of it.
“Go to your room, Jess.”
He shut the door in her face, not hearing as she opened her mouth to speak. He threw the dead bolt, feeling like a coward, which he was. He turned around and leaned his back against the door, blowing out a breath.
Not afraid? Yeah, right. Jessie had called it right. She scared the shit out of him.
It took him a few minutes to regain the ability to breathe normally.
One woman. One small woman, and she sent his entire nervous system haywire. He should be able to handle her, to ignore her. But he couldn’t, because one look at her, one whiff of her unique scent and he was like a freakin’ bloodhound, salivating and on the hunt. How was he going to do this assignment, be an effective leader, with Jessie underfoot? How was he going to remain immune?
He dragged both hands through his hair, pushing off from the door to pace the small confines of his room.
Priorities. Taking down the gunrunners was his objective. He’d have to compartmentalize Jessie to that place in his mind where she didn’t exist. Or jack off a lot while he was alone, to ease the stress of having her near. His c**k twitched, aching for touch, but it wasn’t his hands it wanted. It was Jessie’s. Her hands, her mouth, her pussy.
Tough. His dick was just going to have to suffer, because he wasn’t going to f**k her. Even though it seemed she’d wanted that tonight. She’d put one hell of a move on him. Any other guy would have taken what she’d so obviously offered.
She was playing a dangerous game with him. But Jessie was a kid. She didn’t know what she wanted. It was going to be up to Diaz to show restraint.
He groaned. This assignment was going to be like a long ride into hell.
FOUR
JESSIE PACED HER ROOM, STARING AT THE CLOCK, WAITING FOR the appropriate time to meet up with Diaz and Spence. The roaring sounds of bikers zipping up and down the street woke her early, though she hadn’t managed much sleep anyway. Her thoughts had been occupied with Diaz most of the night. She’d tossed and turned, her body on fire from being close to him.
Close, but not close enough.
Diaz was a man. All man. Loaded with testosterone. She’d all but impaled herself on him, and what had he done? Tossed her out the door, politely but firmly, and sent her to her room.
Her cheeks flamed in embarrassment at the memory of being rejected.
Maybe she just didn’t turn him on.
No, that wasn’t it. She’d gotten a look between his legs, at the hard ridge of his erection so prominently outlined against his jeans. She shuddered at the thought of his hard c**k riding between her legs, stroking the flame that burned incessantly inside her. She’d made no secret of her desire for him last night, so why hadn’t he taken what she offered? Why had he held back, pushed her away?
Jessie was determined to find out. She never had been one to give up easily.
She turned at the knock at her door and opened it to find Spence leaning against the doorjamb.
“Diaz says we ride. You ready?”
She grinned. “Always.”
They rode into the main part of town and found a cozy little restaurant overlooking the main drag to eat breakfast. There, they could watch all the bikers ride up and down the street. Perfect venue to catch a glimpse of Crush and his gang in case they rode by.
“See anything last night?” Diaz asked Spence.
“Yeah. Bikes. Lots of them. And chicks. Lots of those, too. But no Devil’s Skulls and no Crush Daniels.”
Jessie smiled and scooped up another forkful of scrambled eggs.
Diaz frowned, which seemed to be his favorite expression. “Let’s hope we haven’t wasted our time coming here.”
“We haven’t. He’ll be here,” Jessie said.
“How do you know?” Diaz countered.
“Because he told me he’d be here, and because it said so on the Skulls’ website last night.”
“Y’all were on the Internet?” Spence asked.
“Yeah. Diaz brought his laptop.”
“Geek,” Spence said before lifting his coffee cup to his lips for a long swallow.
“Someone has to do the research around here.”
“Yeah, but someone who looks like you should be kicking ass, not burying your head in a computer.”
“I can kick ass, too. Want me to show you?”
Jessie shook her head. She was used to this constant bickering among all the guys. It was typically more a show of bravado and teasing than anger at each other, though she’d seen some rousing displays of machismo in the boxing ring at the Wild Riders’ workout room, one of her favorite pastimes. Nothing like bare-chested, sweaty men going at it, with straining muscles and oozing testosterone while they worked on their skills. Yumm. She might think of most of these guys as family, but the fact of the matter was, none of them were blood relatives and she didn’t at all mind ogling their fine bodies.
In fact, she made sure to be in the gym when Diaz was working out with the guys. Seeing his body straining with effort as he lifted weights or boxed, his face and torso dripping with sweat, the lines of concentration on his face as he worked hard to master whatever skill he targeted . . . it was droolworthy. She’d go in the gym on the pretense of using the weight equipment, run on the treadmill or go a few rounds punching the speed bag, but her gaze would inevitably shift to Diaz, to admire the bunching of his muscles in the ring as he and Spence went a few rounds, wishing it was Diaz and her in the ring alone . . . playing together.
The guys would often box with her, though not seriously since any one of them could knock her flat. But it was good practice for her footwork, stamina, and learning to duck a punch and give one back. These guys were tough and they’d taught her how to be even tougher than she’d been on the street. Unfortunately, Diaz never offered to work out with her. As was typical, he avoided her.
She was determined to figure out why.
Her breakfast finished, she sipped her coffee and gazed out the window. That’s when she caught sight of the white skull with the red devil eyes on the T-shirt of a biker zooming by. She sat up straighter, focused, and watched as a few more rode by the restaurant.
“They’re here,” she said, keeping her voice low, not tearing her gaze away from the window.
“Where?” Diaz asked.
“A few just rode by.”
“Did you see Crush?”
“Not yet.”
“Let’s go.”
They paid the bill and hopped on their bikes, joining in with the throng of bikers cruising up and down the main street. Riding the main drag was a chance to see and be seen, to show off your bike and look for friends.
“Be casual,” Diaz said at a red light. “If you spot Crush, just let us know but don’t be too obvious.”
She nodded. That was her plan, to make sure Crush saw her, to make him come to her.
Bikes rode in both directions, and Jessie watched. The Devil’s Skulls were a big group, and she started seeing a lot of jackets, vests, and T-shirts with the Skulls’ insignia. It didn’t take long to find Crush leading a pack of riders. She played oblivious, but then as they rode the strip, he spotted her, waved, turned his bike around, and rode up next to her, motioning her to pull over onto a side street. She followed, as did Diaz, Spence, and a few of Crush’s people. She acted surprised to see him.
“Hey. Didn’t think you and your gang were coming,” she said, straddling her bike.
Crush was a really good-looking guy, not the kind of man you’d think would lead a rough gang of bikers. Inky black hair cut short and spiky, and his face was gorgeous, with sharp-angled cheekbones, full lips, and the most beautiful storm gray eyes she’d ever seen. His body was lean, his clothes always clean . . . he just didn’t fit the profile of some backwoods survivalist. But what did she know? She was the novice here.
“We had some other stuff to do yesterday so we rode over early this morning. Did we miss much?”
“Not really. Quite a few bikers came in yesterday, but it was quiet last night. Looks like a lot more are wandering in this morning.”
Jessie wondered what that other “stuff” was that they’d been doing, and if it had anything to do with illegal arms. She decided to reserve judgment. She flipped her thumb behind her at Diaz and Spence and introduced them to Crush.
Crush arched a brow. “Are these two your lovers?”
She choked back a laugh at the thought of having two men. Hell, she’d be happy to have one. Instead, she flashed Crush a grin. “Maybe.”
“Are you part of a gang?”
“No,” Diaz said. “We travel alone.”
“The three of you ride together a lot?”
Diaz nodded, then said, “But we’re thinking of hooking up with a bike group. We do a lot of riding together, like to travel. We like the Ozarks area, so maybe we’ll join up with a gang around here, settle in this area.”
Crush studied Diaz and Spence. “Lots of undesirables around here. You need to be careful about riding alone. If you want to keep your woman safe, you should join a gang. There’s safety in numbers.”
“I think we can take care of Jessie just fine on our own,” Diaz said.
Spence nodded at Diaz, but his smile was directed at Jessie. “I think Jessie can take care of herself.”
Jessie grinned at Spence’s compliment, and wondered what the hell Diaz was doing. Weren’t they supposed to play into Crush’s hands? Then again, she supposed it would be a sign of weakness to indicate they couldn’t take care of themselves, or each other, alone.
She had a lot to learn.
“I’m sure y’all do a fine job looking out for each other. Still, I grew up around here and trust me, it’s not safe to travel some areas with just a few of you.”
“Is that an invitation to join the Devil’s Skulls?” Diaz asked.
“Maybe,” Crush said, his lips lifting in a lazy smile. “But in order to join with us—that is, if I invite you—you’d have to handle initiation. And that’s not easy. Think you’ve got the balls for it?”
“Hell yeah,” Spence said.
Diaz didn’t even smile. “We can handle it.”
“And what about Jessie?” Crush asked, this time not looking at her but addressing the question to Diaz. “Can she deal with it?”
Wasn’t that just so typical? “I can speak for myself, and I can handle anything you dish out, Crush.”
Crush’s gaze drifted her way, and he nodded, his lips lifting. “I’ll just bet you can.”
He was challenging her, teasing her. After spending most of her formative years with a group of tough, streetwise guys, she wasn’t a bit fazed by Crush Daniels. She grinned at Crush. Diaz, however, looked ready to hop off his bike and strangle Crush.