Read Online Wanting It All: A Hellfire Riders MC Romance (The Motorcycle Clubs Book 3) by Kati Wilde - Free Book Online
Authors: Kati Wilde
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Saxon doesn’t blink when I say that I need to drive up to the house and change my clothes. He just nods and starts up his bike while I climb into my truck. There’s no counting how many times I’ve heard guys—bikers or not—argue against a woman taking a few extra minutes to get ready, dismissing it as trivial or time-wasting. But Saxon doesn’t even ask me to explain why or try to convince me that the clothes I’m wearing are fine, and I appreciate that when I tell him there’s something I need to do, he just waits for me to do it.
Such a simple thing, but it matters. Because if Saxon and I give this a shot, there will be many times when I’ll have things I need to do: taking care of my dad and working at the brewery, just to start. And we know a lot about each other, but we don’t know the little things like this—and as far as I can tell, it’s often those little things that make or break a couple.
My dad’s bike is gone from its usual spot in front of the house. Since nothing is settled with Saxon, my dad’s absence is a relief. I’m not really sure what I would tell him.
I invite Saxon in, but he waits outside with his engine idling. From anyone else, that might have been a subtle hint to hurry me along; from Saxon, it’s simply respect. This isn’t just my place, but also belongs to the Steel Titans’ president. Whatever agreement they’re working out between the clubs, this is still Titan territory. Even though Saxon is here by invitation, parking his bike and coming into the house is too close to declaring that he’s pushing my father out, so I know he’ll hold off until the invitation comes from my dad, instead.
He’s frowning down at his phone when I come out wearing jeans, my riding jacket, and gloves. His dark gaze skims down my length, stopping at my feet. The cuffs of my straight-cut jeans cover the top of my red cowboy boots. With a round toe and wooden heel, they were designed with another type of riding in mind, but they’re great on a motorcycle, too.
He meets my eyes. “Nice boots.”
“They’re good for kicking ass,” I say, but despite the bold words, I’m suddenly nervous. My anxiety doesn’t escape his notice.
“You’re not used to the idea of me being at your place.”
“I’m not used to the idea of any guy being at my place,” I retort.
His smile is wide and slow. “I shouldn’t like that answer as much as I do,” he tells me, then gestures to the short stretch of seat behind him, inviting me to sit. “Your cell reception out here is shit.”
Worse than shit, usually. I pull on my helmet. “And it’s even shittier at the clubhouse’s end of the property. Is that a deal breaker?”
I’m teasing him, but his response is swift and serious. He snags my belt and pulls me close. Even though he’s seated on his bike, our eyes are almost even.
“Nothing’s going to break this deal, princess. Nothing. ” He waits a second to let that sink in, then lets go of my belt and smacks my ass. “Now get on. And scoot up real close, because your legs in those jeans are the sexiest I’ve ever seen, and I want them holding me tight.”
I grin and swing my leg over the back. My nervousness melts away. I’m suddenly glad I’m behind him and that he can’t see my face, because the emotion that replaces the anxiety is warm and full, and would reveal far too much.
It is strange to have him here. But it also feels so right.
God, and his abs are like steel when I slide my hands beneath his kutte to grip his sides. I’ve never seen him without a shirt but my fingers tell me that when I do, I’ll be looking at slabs of muscle and a six-pack that could make angels weep.
“You know,” I call to him as he slowly opens the throttle, “we could just head upstairs to my bedroom!”
I can’t hear his laugh but I feel the rumble of it join the vibration of the engine. His big hand comes down to squeeze my thigh before returning to the handlebar. Thanks to my helmet
Such a simple thing, but it matters. Because if Saxon and I give this a shot, there will be many times when I’ll have things I need to do: taking care of my dad and working at the brewery, just to start. And we know a lot about each other, but we don’t know the little things like this—and as far as I can tell, it’s often those little things that make or break a couple.
My dad’s bike is gone from its usual spot in front of the house. Since nothing is settled with Saxon, my dad’s absence is a relief. I’m not really sure what I would tell him.
I invite Saxon in, but he waits outside with his engine idling. From anyone else, that might have been a subtle hint to hurry me along; from Saxon, it’s simply respect. This isn’t just my place, but also belongs to the Steel Titans’ president. Whatever agreement they’re working out between the clubs, this is still Titan territory. Even though Saxon is here by invitation, parking his bike and coming into the house is too close to declaring that he’s pushing my father out, so I know he’ll hold off until the invitation comes from my dad, instead.
He’s frowning down at his phone when I come out wearing jeans, my riding jacket, and gloves. His dark gaze skims down my length, stopping at my feet. The cuffs of my straight-cut jeans cover the top of my red cowboy boots. With a round toe and wooden heel, they were designed with another type of riding in mind, but they’re great on a motorcycle, too.
He meets my eyes. “Nice boots.”
“They’re good for kicking ass,” I say, but despite the bold words, I’m suddenly nervous. My anxiety doesn’t escape his notice.
“You’re not used to the idea of me being at your place.”
“I’m not used to the idea of any guy being at my place,” I retort.
His smile is wide and slow. “I shouldn’t like that answer as much as I do,” he tells me, then gestures to the short stretch of seat behind him, inviting me to sit. “Your cell reception out here is shit.”
Worse than shit, usually. I pull on my helmet. “And it’s even shittier at the clubhouse’s end of the property. Is that a deal breaker?”
I’m teasing him, but his response is swift and serious. He snags my belt and pulls me close. Even though he’s seated on his bike, our eyes are almost even.
“Nothing’s going to break this deal, princess. Nothing. ” He waits a second to let that sink in, then lets go of my belt and smacks my ass. “Now get on. And scoot up real close, because your legs in those jeans are the sexiest I’ve ever seen, and I want them holding me tight.”
I grin and swing my leg over the back. My nervousness melts away. I’m suddenly glad I’m behind him and that he can’t see my face, because the emotion that replaces the anxiety is warm and full, and would reveal far too much.
It is strange to have him here. But it also feels so right.
God, and his abs are like steel when I slide my hands beneath his kutte to grip his sides. I’ve never seen him without a shirt but my fingers tell me that when I do, I’ll be looking at slabs of muscle and a six-pack that could make angels weep.
“You know,” I call to him as he slowly opens the throttle, “we could just head upstairs to my bedroom!”
I can’t hear his laugh but I feel the rumble of it join the vibration of the engine. His big hand comes down to squeeze my thigh before returning to the handlebar. Thanks to my helmet
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