Ruthless (2 page)

I mean, don't get me wrong, I don't think I'm the most gorgeous woman to ever live, but I'm not a total dog, either. I know for a fact my long blond hair and curvy figure have attracted more than my fair share of attention. Especially at work. I spend a ridiculous amount of time fending off horny tourists and businessmen at my job as a front desk clerk at the Mother Lode Casino. And that's while wearing their ugly-ass uniform. But when I was all dolled up for a date—like tonight—I looked good, dammit.

Screw this. I'd buy him one drink as promised, then get the hell out of there. I still had some self-respect.

As we approached the restaurant, my eyes were drawn to the motorcycle at the end of the lot. It wasn't difficult to picture him straddling the powerful bike. Even through my irritation over his treatment, the mental image was still powerful enough to get me excited. There was something insanely hot about a bad boy on a bike. Especially this one.

I followed him to the front of the building, where he pushed through the double sets of doors. He didn't even pause to check to see if I was following him. His attitude was starting to irk me.

More than a little annoyed, I trailed behind him as he plowed his way through the crowd gathered around the maître d's stand. Afraid to lose sight of my guy, I stayed glued to his back and gave half smiles of apology to the people he mowed down. I was relieved when he stopped at the bar.

“Bushmills Black Bush. Neat. And a—” He threw a look at me over his shoulder.

“Whatever's on tap.”

He raised an eyebrow at me. I gave him a wide-eyed innocent look back.

He let out one of those annoyed man grunts. “And a light draft beer.”

When the bartender plunked down our drinks, I dug through my purse for some cash, but stopped when I felt a hand on my arm.

“Don't worry about it.”

I looked at him, nonplussed. This was the whole reason we were here, after all. Of course I was buying the round. And then I was getting the hell out of here.

Before I could protest, he tipped his head at the bartender, grabbed my arm, and pulled me to the other side of the room. Not wanting to make a scene, I clutched my beer and followed. He stopped at a table in the corner, pulled out a chair, and sat. I stared at him for a moment, then shook my head and took the other chair.

We sipped our drinks in silence. I stared at my glass, watching the foam slowly dissipate. Very few American drinkers appreciated the head on a beer. But then again I really liked head. I smirked into my glass before taking another swig.

“What?”

I blinked when my knight finally spoke. I thought maybe we were just going to do the silent, awkward thing. “I was thinking how much I like head.”

Now it was his turn to blink.

I enjoyed the moment before I lifted my glass in explanation. He shook his head and looked away with his own little smirk.

“So do you have a name?”

He turned back and gave me a lingering once-over. The heat of his gaze seared me from the tips of my breasts to the juncture of my thighs. His golden-brown eyes raked over my body until I was sure there wasn't an inch of skin he hadn't covered. I felt exposed and turned on all at once. I took my own survey of him, and a quick glance at his lap told me he liked the view as well.

“Zag.”

I shook my head and looked up into his fascinating eyes. “I, uh, what?”

“My name. Zag.”

“No, really.”

He lifted one shoulder in a shrug.

Oookay. “Well, it's nice to meet you, Zag. I'm Jessica.” I'd been tempted to give him a fake name back, but I was afraid I wouldn't be able to remember it later. Besides, I really wanted to hear him say my name.

I held out my hand and waited. After a beat, he took it. His hand was rough and calloused, but his grip was firm. Not too firm to make me uncomfortable, but not some wet-fish handshake. I'd once heard someone claim a handshake was an extension of a man's cock. If that were really the case, Zag wouldn't have any problems in the bedroom. My cheeks flushed at the dirty turn of my thoughts. Again. What was it about this man? He was like a walking advertisement for wicked fantasies. I couldn't help myself.

I just knew Zag was watching me with those eagle eyes of his. I could practically feel them even though I kept my own glued to the tabletop. After a beat, from the corner of my eye, I saw him turn away.

What the hell was wrong with me? Was I looking for a happy ending for what had turned out to be a craptastic night? Or was I really into this guy?

I turned my head slightly and gave him another once-over.

His jacket had parted enough for me to see the grease-stained T-shirt underneath. And the ripple of abs beneath that layer. Oh, I was definitely into this guy. I'd always had a thing for bad boys but never could quite get up the nerve to pursue them. All that attitude wrapped up in such an attractive wrapper was more than a little intimidating for a good girl like me. Hell, I'd been the honor society president in high school, a good girl who didn't lose my virginity until I was out of my parents' house at nineteen. I was the poster child for following the rules. So why did I want to follow my badass biker home?

Because he was forbidden and hard in all the right places. Everything I wasn't.

Including leaving.

Zag took one last gulp of his whiskey, Irish and straight up—how gangster was that?—and pushed away from the table.

“Do you often save damsels in distress?”

He shook his head. “Nope.”

“Wait. Can I buy you another drink?”

“Nah. I gotta head out.” He tipped his head in my direction. His hair fanned out and brushed the stubble on his jaw. “Thanks for the round.”

Panicked that he was going to leave before I got up the nerve to proposition him, I threw out the only thing I could think to say. “Wait. Can I get a ride?”

I immediately flinched. That had to be the stupidest thing I could've said. And so desperately obvious. I was pretty sure there had to be a blinking neon sign above my head:
Hello, horny woman wants a “ride.”

Zag raised an eyebrow.

God, that was a sexy look.

“Cut the bullshit. I don't have time for stupid games. Just say what you wanna say. I got business to handle.”

“I, um, just thought it'd be fun to take a ride on your bike. Maybe not now. Just sometime, you know, when you find the time. If you're free, that is. And don't mind giving me a ride.”

A wave of mortification swept over me. I couldn't seem to stop myself. The rambling words kept leaving my mouth in an endless stream of nonsense.
Where were you when I needed you, brain?
I didn't just say that. The muffled laughter from the table next to us answered for me.

Dammit, just when I thought the night couldn't get any stranger. This settled it. After tonight I was done with dating. With men. And possibly with ever leaving the safety of my home ever again.

But I felt something with him. A magnetism or a connection, whatever you wanted to call it. It was the reason I'd pushed him to have a drink with me. And I thought he felt it, too. But the silence from the other side of the table was telling.

And humiliating.

I didn't need a mirror to tell me my face was flaming redder than ever before. I dug through my purse for a crumpled bill to pay for our drinks. I couldn't wait with this audience and my embarrassment to pay with a card.

“Sure.”

My eyes shot straight to Zag's. Did he…Was he agreeing?

His eyes glinted at me, a clear challenge in them. He was waiting for me to chicken out.

Like hell. I'd found my one chance to have a fling with a bad boy. No way was I passing this up. I grabbed his drink and downed the last bit.

His hand covered mine and lifted the glass to his mouth. He slowly ran the tip of his tongue over the rim where my mouth had been, no doubt tasting a mixture of whiskey and me. The sight was heady.

The glass made a slight clink as he set it on the tabletop. “Let's get out of here.”

He kept my hand in his, and I let him tug me from the restaurant.

We stopped outside in the same parking lot where we'd met only minutes ago. Was I really going to do this? Jump on some random guy's motorcycle and let him take me wherever? I shivered. Wasn't this how all those news broadcasts started?
She was last seen in the company of…

“Did you change your mind, princess? I don't have all fucking night.”

He stood twenty feet in front of me next to a huge motorcycle. As least it looked huge to me, but then I don't know anything about bikes. I only knew it wasn't one of those crotch rockets my brothers had begged my parents for when we were kids. This thing was large and chrome. And had panty-melting capabilities. Just the thought of straddling the bike and holding tight to his lean hips as we thundered down the road had me weak in the knees. Would I feel the vibrations all the way through me? I almost orgasmed on the spot.

Zag's mumbled “I should've known” broke the spell.

He turned and started fumbling with the saddlebags. His irritation was plain to see.

I closed the distance separating us and stopped at his side. “Can you give me a sec?”

Zag lifted a shoulder. “Have you changed your mind, princess?”

“I…uh, no. But can you give me a sec?”

He gave me another one of those enigmatic looks, then jerked his head in a tight nod.

“Thanks.”

I dug out my phone and typed a quick text to my best friend Nicole.

Date was horrible going home with a biker instead
.

Before I could send another text with his license plate number, which I'd slyly scoped out a minute ago, Nicole texted back.

WHAT?!

Shit. Maybe I should've texted Emily instead. But since this was totally out of character for me, either friend would've freaked out. I didn't do one-night stands. And I definitely didn't do
anything
with bikers. I really didn't want to spend the next five minutes texting an explanation to Nicole. Especially since I wasn't sure
I
understood what I was thinking. Ignoring the obvious, I texted back.

His name's Zag. Plate TBZAG.

Before Nicole could reply, I turned off my phone and stashed it in my purse.

“Let's go.”

Zag lifted an eyebrow, but after a second, he dug out a helmet and tossed it at me. Somewhat perturbed that he took my going home with him so matter-of-factly, I hid my pout as I struggled with the helmet. I mean it would've been nice to have some enthusiasm. He could've been giving his kid sister a ride home for all the consideration he paid me. Some attentiveness would've been nice.

And would've made me doubt myself a little less.

Relieved when the chin strap buckled at last, I ignored my reservations and the butterflies dancing in my stomach as I tried for a sophisticated air. I watched him take off the leather vest with its large True Brothers logo, fold it, and stash it in his saddlebag. Given the color difference on the back of his leather jacket, he didn't take off his vest often. Uncertain over his wardrobe change but not wanting to call attention to his strange behavior, either, I silently watched him sling a leg over the bike and appreciated the view. His jean-clad ass looked just as amazing on the bike as he straddled the motorcycle.

He grabbed his helmet from the handlebar and gave me a rakish smile before he put it on. “Are you getting on or did you change your mind again, princess?”

I was really beginning to hate that nickname. With a challenging head tilt, I approached his bike. But stopped when I got within touching distance. How the heck was I supposed to get on the thing?

“It's not exactly rocket science. Toss a leg over, avoid touching the pipes, and climb aboard.”

Somehow I was sure it wouldn't be the only time I'd hear that last bit tonight. Although I really hoped he let me touch
his
pipe later. I bit my lip, grabbed his shoulders, and slowly settled in behind him. Thank God I wore pants tonight.

Zag grabbed my leg by my calf and I clutched at his shoulders as it threw me off balance. He slowly slid my high heel off. His fingers lingered, gently brushing the arch of my foot. Then he softly tucked my leg back into my original position. He repeated with my other shoe before stashing my heels in his saddlebag. My toes curled and I couldn't help but smile at his sweet gesture.

Almost immediately the engine rumbled to life, and I slid my hands down to his waist in a death grip. Zag turned his head slightly and yelled to me over his shoulder. “Just hang on and follow my lead.”

Follow his lead? What did he m—

I let out a startled shriek as he opened the throttle and we shot out of the parking lot.

My heart raced as the combination of adrenaline and Zag's nearness overwhelmed my system. The cool spring night air whipped my face and I wished I could feel it in my hair. Euphoria and total freedom rushed through me as we raced down the nearly empty streets. The bike vibrating beneath me—between my thighs—aggravated my already aroused nerve endings. If I leaned forward a little more, my jeans would press on my engorged clit. I was tempted, but the thought of tumbling to my death because I couldn't hang on had me thinking twice. Instead, I gripped Zag's lean hips and tried to think unsexy thoughts. But that was impossible when I was straddling a bike behind one of the most gorgeous guys I'd ever had the pleasure to feel up. I say feel up because while my mind was distracted by my orgasm predicament, my hands wandered on their own accord, burrowing beneath his jacket and T-shirt to the firm, hair-dusted abs below.

My thighs clenched. Oh dear God, he was hard all over.

At one point my groping must've gotten distracting because he grabbed my hand and guided it away. I couldn't help but smirk in satisfaction. He didn't have little-sister feelings toward me, judging from the bulge his jeans covered.

We left the downtown corridor and weaved through the narrow streets in one of the older neighborhoods in Reno. Unlike my neighborhood of cookie-cutter tract homes, here Craftsman houses with brick exteriors and large trees in the yards lined the streets. Each house was different from the others. Zag slowly coasted into a driveway, then killed the engine. His place was one of the more modest on the street but still well kept, with a large front porch and a few trees lining the driveway.

Unable to help myself, I gave his hips one last squeeze, then dismounted. My thighs quivered. I don't know if I had gripped him too hard with my legs or if it was the vibration from the bike, but suddenly I was feeling weak-kneed. But still euphoric. I whipped off my helmet and tossed it to him. He caught it and handed me my heels.

I slipped them on while a huge, goofy smile curved my lips. “Oh my god. That was amazing. You can take me for a ride anytime.”

Zag shook his head slightly and his shoulders hitched as he took off his helmet. It was only then that my double entendre hit me.

Apparently my brain was on permanent leave. Still, I wasn't going to let my foot-in-mouth disease get in the way of tonight. “But I'm sure you hear that from all the girls.”

He just sat there on his bike—looking as sexy as all get-out—and lifted one shoulder in a half shrug. He put down the kickstand, swung off the bike, then reached for my hand.

I let him pull me closer until I stood only inches in front of him. He reached up and threaded his other hand through my hair and tugged until my lips were a hair's breadth from his.

“I only see one girl here.”

Then he took my lips in a crushing kiss. His lips moved masterfully over mine, bending me into submission. Unable to control the momentum, I hung on and let him. When my legs began to shake, he pulled back and gave my lower lip a little nip.

“Come on. As much as I'd love to finish what you started out here, I don't think my neighbors would appreciate the show.”

He grabbed my hand and tugged me up the driveway to the front door. Following docilely behind him, I stumbled a bit on the steps, but stopped short at the doorway when his comment pierced my lust-induced fog.

“What
I
started?”

He gave me one of those annoyed man grunts as he tugged me inside, then shut the door behind us. I vaguely noticed the ridiculous amount of locks on his door before he turned and gave me a sultry look.

Oh Lord, I was in trouble.

He stalked toward me, his eyes intent on my face. I suddenly knew what a gazelle felt like when it spotted a lion in the fields. My heart raced. If the bike ride was an adrenaline rush, this was ten times more. I licked my lips and took a few stumbling steps backward.

“Yes, what you started.” His voice was low and throaty. “You and your velvety brown eyes. Throwing me those helpless looks and your sweet-as-hell smiles. Made it impossible to say no.”

I shivered at his words.
He
found
me
irresistible. This couldn't be real. In my life bad boys never looked in my direction, let alone lusted after me. If this was a dream, I really hoped I didn't wake up until tomorrow.

He continued to stalk toward me, never getting within grabbing distance as I stumbled backward and away from him. I could see a barely restrained wildness within him. If I wasn't careful, he'd break and let all that masculine power loose.

I was both intrigued and more than a little afraid. It made an electrifying combination. Fuck it. I bit my lip even as I continued my slow retreat. “I don't remember the question.”

A low throaty growl filled the room.

I threw a panicked look over my shoulder as I stumbled over a pile of magazines. Then I heard that sexy growl again. I turned back to Zag in time to see him fling his jacket across the small space toward the lumpy sofa. He prowled closer toward me, every inch a tenacious hunter.

Maybe it was a bad idea to tease the big, scary biker man.

Although if it made him take off more clothes…

“That must've been some other pretty blonde who asked me for a ride, all suggestive-like.”

I gulped at the tearing sound when he pulled his shirt over his head with barely restrained force. And I gulped again at the masculine perfection that was his chest and abs. I was right—the man was hard all over. His muscles flexed as he prowled closer to me. I could see several tattoos snaking around his arms and a few scars on his chest that I couldn't wait to trace with my tongue later.

I let out a startled squeak when my back slammed into a wall. I'd run out of room to run.

I watched helplessly as Zag stalked closer. The room throbbed with anticipation.

He stopped so close I could feel the warmth of his body and the puff of his breath on my face as he spoke.

“So was it?”

Mint and the mellow scent of whiskey. I'd forever link those scents with this moment. With this man. I swallowed hard and stared back into his amber eyes. What was he talking about? I licked my lips, disappointed I couldn't still taste him. “Huh?”

He cupped my cheek with his left hand, tipping my face to the side and away from him. I gasped as he bent forward and rasped his teeth against my bared neck. My skin broke out in goose bumps. I felt his lips move against my neck as he spoke.

“Was it you in the bar who so suggestively asked for a ride? Or did I bring the wrong pretty little blonde home?”

I arched into him, pushing my chest closer. My breasts ached. By now my nipples were two hard, aching points begging for attention. I wanted, needed more.

“Yes. No. Whatever you want. Just don't stop doing that.” I moaned as he took my earlobe into his mouth and nibbled gently.

“Ah, princess, it's a little early in the evening to give up the farm.” His breath was hot in my ear and caused a whole new host of shivers. Each shudder of my body rubbed my aching nipples against my silky smooth bra. I wanted to feel them against his hairy chest. Or, better yet, that warm sucking sensation of his mouth with the sharp edge of his teeth.

“Um…Don't care. Just don't stop.” I slumped back against the wall since my knees could no longer support me. With one hand buried in his thick mane of hair and the other on his back, I held on.

“I think you and me are gonna get along fine.” He left a trail of soft kisses from my ear across my face to my lips, but he stopped short of a real kiss. Instead, he gave me another one of those nipping bites on my full lower lip. “Nothing fucking better in this world than having a gorgeous, eager woman in my hands.”

Before I had a chance to process what he'd said, the room whirled around as he flipped me up in his arms and all but ran down the darkened hallway.

He ducked into a shadow-filled bedroom. I didn't have time to look around or orient myself because suddenly I was horizontal, the bed at my back and Zag looming over me.

He growled. “You're wearing too many fucking clothes.”

I could only whimper in agreement. I didn't want anything between us, either. I'd never felt this way with anyone before.

After pulling my glittery black blouse over my head, he threw it over his shoulder. “Gorgeous. Fucking gorgeous.” He palmed my bra-covered breast before teasing my nipple with his thumb. I moaned and arched into his caress. The silky material magnified the deliciousness of his teasing touch.

He ducked his head and rasped his teeth over the aching peak of my nipple.