Free Betting It All: A Hellfire Riders MC Romance (The Motorcycle Clubs Book 11) by Kati Wilde

engine. “You’ll keep sharp after?”
    Watching out for the Hangmen. “Always.”
    “You call me if you get a buzz on the back of your neck. I’ll take care of it.”
    If I get a feeling someone’s hanging around the area or is a little too interested in my place. I can’t stop Stone and Gunner’s words from popping back into my head, but Jack’s offer to take care of any trouble isn’t for me. It’s just what he does for the club. He’d tell any patchholder to call him. My chest tightens up anyway, so I simply nod and ease my ride forward, slipping into my spot in the garage. Even with my dad’s old truck taking up the second bay, there’s plenty of room for Jack’s bike.
    God, and she’s a sweet ride. He’s got two Harleys he switches between. One is a blacked-out Iron 883, which serves as his workhorse. But this is his baby, a 1959 Sportster. She doesn’t have the most powerful engine and she’s not tricked out; she’s just solid and runs like a wet dream. That’s where the real beauty lies—in the care Jack has taken restoring and maintaining her.
    And thinking of his big hands working her over? I’d be lying if I said that wasn’t a huge turn-on. It always has been.
    Which is why I shouldn’t be checking out his ride right now. My breath feels short as I tear my gaze away, up to his face, and my lungs stop working altogether.
    Between the dark night and the blinding lights, I didn’t get a good look at him outside. He’s as tense as I am, his gaze locked on my face. I can’t read anything in the flatness of his dark eyes but something’s changed. He’s a weapon, but usually I only see the broad side of the blade, the dull gleam of the gun.
    Now he’s the razored edge. Now he’s the bullet.
    But it’s not fear that trips my heart into double-time, sending my pulse thundering. It’s anticipation. He’ll be fucking me soon. And, God—I want him to. I want to feel his cock thrusting deep inside me. I want to be tied and taken hard.
    This isn’t how I’m going to beat him, though.
    Dragging in a steadying breath, I drop my helmet on the workbench and head for the door connecting the garage to the house. I know Jack’s behind me, though I can’t hear his steps. The door opens to my basement and a short flight of stairs takes me up to the main foyer. I shrug out of my kutte, taking care to hang the leather on the coat rack beside the front door. My vest is the only thing I remember to put away every single time. I never just throw it somewhere—unlike my running shorts, which have been decorating the back of my red sofa since yesterday morning.
    Jack hands me his kutte. The leather’s warm from the heat of his body. I don’t let myself breathe in the scent as I hang it beside mine.
    I glance at the shoulder holster he’s wearing. “Your weapon, too?”
    “I’ll keep it in the bedroom with us.” His gaze slips down and he watches me toe off my boots. The road grit collected at the hem of my jeans spills onto the tile. “You went for a ride?”
    “I did.” And I’m covered in a thin layer of dust. “You want me to shower before you fuck me? Or do you want to join me in the shower and we can get started there?”
    I should have been ready. But he’s so quick. Before I’ve even realized he’s moved, Jack’s already caught me up against his hard body and is pushing his long fingers into my hair.
    “We’ll start here,” he says gruffly and his mouth captures mine.
    Kissing. I hadn’t imagined this. I’ve only imagined fucking so I’m not prepared for the thrust of his tongue or the surge of heat through my veins. God. I taste the dust on my lips and the mint of his mouth, as if after the board meeting he went home and got ready for me. He smells like soap and the hair at his nape is slightly damp, his jaw shaved smooth.
    His big hands grip my ass. Easily he lifts me, wedging his thick erection between my legs. My inner muscles clench on a sharp pulse of need. A hungry