Riding on Instinct
Page 18He climbed back on his bike and she had to fight to get her breathing and her pulse and her goddamned libido under control.
Then it hit her. Of course. He didn’t want her. He’d already been out screwing someone tonight. He was probably exhausted.
Taking the defensive, she picked up her water bottle where she’d carelessly tossed it in the grass, unscrewed the lid, and took a long swallow, coating her dry throat. Then she put the lid back on, never once taking her gaze from his.
“I can understand you being unable to get it up twice in one night,” she said.
His lips curled, then he laughed. “I don’t owe you an explanation, but I wasn’t with a woman tonight.”
Her brow quirked. “I didn’t realize you played for the other side.”
He snorted. “Not what I meant. First, I didn’t fuck anyone tonight. I went to the bar and played a few rounds of pool. And second, I can get it up and keep it up all night long, over and over again.”
There went that melty sensation again, weakening her knees. She forced herself to stand solid and not waver, but the visuals of him doing exactly that were overwhelming.
“But I’m not about to toss you down on the weeds in the middle of the road and fuck you here.”
Why the hell not? At this moment she wouldn’t mind that one bit.
“And another thing—you’d better think about what you really want, because I’m not a relationship kind of guy, and I think that’s the kind of man you really need.”
He fired up the bike and rode way, leaving her alone on the path.
Her legs were shaking, remnants of the brief passion they shared still drilling through her nervous system, which was quickly being replaced by anger.
She turned around and started a slow jog back to the house.
How the hell did he know what she needed or wanted?
Even she didn’t know the answer to that, but the last thing she wanted or needed was a relationship. Not at this point in her life, in her career.
SIX
THEY WERE HEADING TO NEW ORLEANS. SHaDoe’S THINGS WERE packed, but they weren’t traveling with her, they were going in a car with AJ and Pax. She would be riding on Spence’s bike.
She sure was experiencing a lot of new adventures on this assignment. But that was what she wanted, wasn’t it? Though the idea of being pressed up against Spence for nearly a day’s ride wasn’t exactly a thrilling idea, she knew she had to keep her cover intact. And her persona heading in was going to be stripper aka biker chick, with Spence as her lover/bodyguard. Grange, Spence, and Shadoe had spent the morning going over last-minute details, getting their covers completely set up, including the documentation for their fake IDs. It was only then that she found out Spence was not only acting as her bodyguard, but also her boyfriend. Grange said it would allow Spence to stay close to her without arousing suspicion, and keep everyone else away from her.
She didn’t mind that; it was the “keeping Spence close” part she wasn’t too keen about. She had enough to worry about without dredging up reminders of what had happened the night before, the way his mouth had felt on hers, the taut strength of his body when he’d held her, the hard ridge of his erection as he’d pulled her between his legs.
But she’d do what was necessary for the job, even if it meant sliding her thighs along Spence’s and crushing her breasts to his back while they cruised along the highway.
She sighed and zipped up her boots, pulled the legs of her jeans down, and grabbed her jacket, then stepped into the bathroom to do a quick braid of her hair so it wouldn’t blow all over the place in the wind. Then she headed downstairs to meet Spence. He was waiting at the elevator, talking with Grange.
He sure looked fine in black leather, his chaps cinched tight around his jean-clad ass, the leather hugging his thighs and legs. He wore a white T-shirt that only accented his tan and his blue eyes. She sucked in a breath and walked up to him and Grange.
“You ready, finally?”
Ignoring his attempt at insult, she nodded. “Yes.”
Grange turned to face both of them. “AJ and Pax are already on their way and they’ll meet you there. Stay in touch.”
Spence pushed the button on the elevator that would take them outside to the garage. They rode down silently, and Spence led her to the stall where his bike was located. He took the bag with her few things she’d packed for the ride, then he climbed on.
Okay, admittedly, she was excited. She’d ridden a bit here and there, but never an entire day trip, and not in a long time. She loved motorcycles, loved the feel of the open road, the wind in her face, and the freedom associated with biking.
Despite Spence’s surly attitude, she was going to look upon this as an adventure. Even if she had to ignore the rider in front of her. She climbed on behind him, situated herself, and leaned against the backrest. He fired up the engine and she felt a thrill at the hum and vibration of all that power underneath her. She couldn’t hold back her grin as they pulled out of the garage and started down the road, though at a slow pace.
She really got a rush once they hit the highway, and Spence let out the throttle. She leaned back, the wind rushing by her, Spence moving in and out of the congestion of traffic with ease. It was incredibly freeing and as soon as they left Dallas city limits and cruised their way toward New Orleans, she was in total relaxation mode. Riding was a slice of heaven, and Spence seemed completely at home on the bike. Sitting behind him meant she could study him without him watching her, so she looked her fill. On a Harley, he fit well, like he and the bike were in sync. His ability to master the machine gave her confidence to relax and enjoy the ride.
They stopped for lunch in Alexandria, Louisiana, a bit more than halfway to New Orleans. Shadoe was eager to get off the bike by then. Though she’d had a great ride, it had been too long. She wasn’t used to it, and her butt was sore.
Yeah, right. She stretched out lunch as long as she could. She ordered a salad along with her meal, then perused the dessert menu, which caused Spence to shoot a glare across the table.
He could glare as much as he wanted. She was resting her butt.
She knew she couldn’t put off the inevitable forever, though, and she passed on dessert, finished her drink, and used the bathroom. Then it was back on the road again. The break had helped though, so by the time they pulled into New Orleans she was okay. A little numb from the waist down, but she was excited to see the city, especially the infamous French Quarter and Bourbon Street.
Where they were hopefully going to see some action and bring down a criminal.
Spence pulled into the driveway and she got off, eager to stretch her sore muscles. “Why don’t you go get us checked in while I park the bike?” he suggested.
“Fine with me,” she said, refusing to allow him to see her limp through the doorway into the lobby. But damn, her butt was screaming in pain.
She ran into AJ and Pax in the lobby, who stopped only long enough to tell her that her and Spencer’s luggage was being stored at the desk, then scooted out the door, saying they were headed to a nearby bar. Well, good for them. She could use a drink, too. She went to the front desk and checked in, turned in the receipt AJ gave her for their bags, and they told her they’d bring the bags up to her room.
The hotel was nice. Comfortable, very French, ornate, but not ostentatious. She liked the wrought-iron everywhere, especially on the balcony in the room.
She loved the balcony, which looked down right over Bourbon Street. It would be a perfect spot to view all the partying going on every night. The lush greenery hanging from the overhead pots and woven throughout the railings gave a ton of privacy. One could do just about anything she wanted to in the dark on this balcony and not be seen.
Not that she’d be doing much of anything here, other than peering down at the people below. But if she were to do something, this would be a hot and sexy place to do it, a secluded balcony, her and her man engaged in some steamy sex up against the brick wall under the cover of darkness . . .
Ooh la la!
Of course she didn’t have a man in her life, and she was on an assignment, so her fantasy fizzled into the ether. With a heavy sigh she walked through the French doors and closed them, turned down the AC to cool the air in the room, and the bellman arrived with her things, so she unpacked and put everything away.
She thought about taking a shower, but stretched her back, then yawned. The bed was glorious and looked tempting, so she stretched out across it, realizing she was utterly exhausted. When Spence came up she’d figure out a plan of action with him. She just needed to close her eyes for a minute. Or two.
SPENCE HADN’T INTENDED TO PULL UP A CHAIR AND JUST WATCH Shadoe sleep.
But he also hadn’t expected to find her passed out facedown on the bed when he came in, either.
He’d run into AJ and Pax after he parked the bike, so he spent a few minutes talking to them, then got the room number from the front desk and came up here to find Sleeping Beauty out cold on one of the beds. She still had her boots on. He wanted to slip them off.
Hell, he wanted to slip off a lot of her clothes.
His dick twitched just thinking about last night on the running path. He hadn’t intended to touch her, or kiss her. Getting involved with a mark as part of a case was one thing. Anything to get the job done.
He didn’t need to fuck Shadoe to get this job done. He needed to act as her lover, not be one. Big difference. He preferred keeping his distance if sex complicated things.
In this instance, sex would definitely complicate things. Shadoe had complex written all over her. She was from a world he couldn’t begin to fathom. She had a rich military daddy with connections high up in the government. One word from her and he’d be toast. He’d worked too damn hard to get where he was with the Wild Riders to risk losing it just because he got a hard-on over a woman.
There were plenty of other women he could get a hard-on over. Women not connected with a mission. Women he didn’t have to work with. Women who were safe and uncomplicated.
He liked those kinds of women. Party, fuck, no strings, move on. Just his type.
So why wasn’t he out finding one of those women right now, instead of sitting on an uncomfortable desk chair in this room, his feet propped up on the end of the bed, watching Shadoe sleep?
He should be bored.
He wasn’t. While she slept, he could watch her. She had an innocent, unguarded expression that softened the frown lines on her face. Her nose was small, her lips full but not too full—kissable, perfect. Pink and plump. He’d enjoyed kissing those lips last night.
Her skin was lightly tanned, but not too much that it looked fake. More like she spent time outside—running, probably. She had a great body that no doubt came from intense workouts due to her job. She was firm, but not skinny. He hated girls that were so thin their ribs poked out. Every time he saw one of those types of girls he wanted to grab her and stuff a cheeseburger down her throat. Shadoe actually ate. He liked that about her. She had an appetite, knew how to fuel her body. Which no doubt gave her the womanly curves that made his dick hard.
He shifted uncomfortably and adjusted his cock, which, despite his good intentions about finding any other woman but this one, wasn’t listening. Her hair had half fallen out of her ponytail, wisps of sable curls caressing her cheek. He itched to sweep them away and kiss the exposed part of her neck, then draw her tank top aside and spend some time getting to know her well-sculpted shoulder more intimately.
She had a nice back, too.
Shit. What was he doing taking inventory?