left with the weight of the bike. He helped me down after him, his hands wrapped around my hips for a few extra heartbeats. I didn’t protest, but relaxed in his grip, not wanting him to let go. His strong hands moved to either side of my neck, just below my jaw, and splayed his fingers wide.
“Ice cream, Ryker?” I tried to fight the corner of my mouth from lifting up, but failed to hide my smile. “How old are you?”
“Twenty-six. Why?” He dropped his hands from my face and stepped back, arms out wide as I laughed. “What? You trying to tell me you don’t like ice cream?” His eyes were wide and disbelieving.
“Oh, I love this place. I just didn’t think this was where you’d take me.”
“I come here after every race if it’s still open, so I figured I’d take you with me tonight.” I watched his broad shoulders lift in a slight shrug.
“What made you start that tradition?” I’d never pictured this tattooed biker stopping for a cone of soft serve after winning an illegal drag race.
“You’re kidding me, Gabby! You don’t need a reason to come here. This place is fucking delicious! I don’t care who you are, you don’t grow out of ice cream.”
I burst out laughing. It was just too damn funny watching Ryker defend his love for ice cream, his arms flailing wildly as he emphasized the points he was trying to make.
Ryker’s voice lowered. “Besides, tonight it’ll do more than just taste good.” His hooded eyes found mine, and I had to sit down at the wooden picnic table behind me before I collapsed from their intensity. “It’ll cool down that fire you lit inside me on the ride over here.”
I swallowed loudly. “What?” I squeaked.
“Babe, your hands touching me like that? It took everything I had not to pull over and bend you over my bike to finish what you started.”
I would have let him.
I looked him right in the eyes, letting him know how I felt with only my stare. He looked right back at me, and the heat in his eyes warmed my lower body.
With a jerk of his head, Ryker let out a pained sound and all but growled at me. “How do you like it?”
I shook my head, riddled with desire and confusion. Was he seriously asking me how I liked it? I wasn’t complaining, and I couldn’t say I was really surprised…he had just told me he wanted to bend me over his bike. But I was shocked that we were about to discuss preferred sexual positions here. My cheeks burned.
“Well, I’m not picky.”
Ryker stalked toward me, closing the gap between us. His arms extended forward, his hands landing on the table on either side of my body. “You like it plain? Or would you rather mix it up?”
His proximity to me, plus the huskiness in his deep voice, made my lower body tighten. “Sometimes,” I answered breathlessly, “but I like to switch things up and try different things.”
“Oh, yeah?” He leaned in closer, his biceps bulging from holding up his weight.
My body leaned into his, drawn to him like a magnet, and I panted like a bitch in heat. “Yeah. You?”
Ryker leaned closer until he was an inch from my lips. I held my breath, anticipating the moment that he would kiss me.
“Same, but my favorite is a hot fudge sundae with whip cream and a cherry on top.” He winked at me.
The second his words registered in my lust-driven mind, I leaned away from him, and my eyes widened. My blush went past my cheeks and seemed to devour my whole body. I ducked my head down into my chest and tried to hide my embarrassment. He damn well knew I wasn’t talking about ice cream!
Clearing my throat, I looked at Ryker, his arms still locked on the table around me. “Why do I feel like we weren’t really talking about ice cream that whole time?”
The dimple in his left cheek popped when he smiled at me. “Maybe because we weren’t, babe.”
Ryker’s soft lips were on mine, and my heart stopped beating. I would never have guessed that someone so large and powerful could be so
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