Free The Outlaw's Dirty Dancer by Jenika Snow Page A

and keeping her right where he wanted her, Darra’s head spun. He tasted spicy and sweet, and the way he took possession of her mouth, and held her like he couldn’t bear the thought of her leaving, had her lifting her arms and wrapping them around his neck. A deep sound of need left him when she tilted her head and opened her mouth, taking his tongue inside and moving hers along with his.
    They must have kissed for minutes, because when he pulled away she felt drunk from her pleasure and desperate for more. He might have broken the kiss, but he still held her tightly. “Why don’t we start with something easy like basic facts about ourselves?” Maybe she should have started with the easy stuff first, but she felt a lot lighter after telling him, and she hoped he would feel the same way, too. She smiled and ran her fingers along the bottom of his head. “Darra Strand. Twenty-four year old stripper with her associate’s degree, living in a crummy apartment, but falling hard for this big, tough biker that I met not long ago.” She leaned in and kissed him once more, but she felt how tense he was beneath her. “Tell me about yourself, Brick. I won’t go, but it isn’t because I have no other options, but because I want to stay here . I don’t want to fight this, to fight you. I just want to feel alive, to feel something other than this need to move forward. I want to start my life without worrying if that will ever happen.” She had murmured all of that against his lips, but he hadn’t pulled back, and instead she felt him pull her closer. “And I feel alive with you, Brick. You are the first person to really make me feel that way. I knew I was in trouble, and that it was going to be hard to fight this attraction I have for you from the moment I felt you step up behind me at Summer’s .” She pressed her chest more firmly against his and loved how hard he was compared to her softness.  
    “I’m not a good male, Darra, not in any sense of the word, and not because you look at me and that is what you want to see.” Their lips were no longer touching, but she was still so close to him that the feel of his warm, humid breath, smelling slightly of hops, brushed along her mouth. “I’ve killed people. They were bad people, but that doesn’t mean that taking a life isn’t a notch in my already dark soul.” He ran his hands along her back, but then he was holding onto her waist and lifting him off of her. He reached out and pulled one of the spare chairs over. “Sit down, Darra, and let me get this shit over with.” She took the seat and watched him. He leaned forward with his forearms resting on his thighs and stared at her. “When I was a kid my dad used to beat me. He was a drunk, liked to use his kid as a punching bag, and maybe that’s the reason I am the way I am.”
    “And what way is that?” Yeah, he had told her that he saw himself as this bad, evil man, and she had no doubts that his demons controlled a lot of what he did, but she also knew there was a good and protective side of him. She wanted to hold him, because she knew what it was like to feel the way he felt, to have this raw anger and pain inside that were strong enough to drag someone under if they couldn’t fight it. A beat of silence passed, but before he could answer there was a knock on the door and the waitress was coming through with their food. Darra didn’t move, and neither did Brick as the waitress set their plates in front of them.
    When she left Brick cleared his throat and leaned back in his seat. “My real name is Dillon Stein. I got this scar from the former President of a rival club.” He ran his finger along the scar. “To answer your question, I enjoy killing, enjoy having blood on my hands, but only from those that truly deserve it.” His stare was unwavering. “Not only did my dad like to beat me, but he also liked to watch as the women he brought home to fuck touched me.”
    Tears threatened to spill form her,