Free STRIKE: Storm Runners Motorcycle Club 2 (SRMC) by Lauren Devane Page B

she’s talking about my ballet classes and how she always knew I’d be a dancer.”
    “Is she still down with it?” Tom asked, shaking his head as he reached for his cup of coffee.
    “I pay her rent.” Mandi said with a shrug. She rolled her eyes. “She works less now and can watch more soap operas, so she’s put her fake morals aside. I don’t think she mentions it when she’s getting her nails done, though.”
    “God, she’s such a piece of work,” Grace said. “I don’t know why you over there so often.”
    “She makes really good pie.” Tom laughed again, watching Grace lick syrup off her finger. The twist of her pink tongue over her finger brought his mind to images of her doing the same to his cock and he took a deep breath.
    “I think that’s it,” Grace said, sitting back and surveying the last bites of food scattered over their plates. “I’m ready to crash.”
    “Me too,” Mandi said. “I’ll get the check.”
    “No.” Tom grabbed it and pulled out his wallet. “What kind of man would I be if I didn’t buy you lovely ladies dinner?”
    “It’s the least you can do for the comedy show Mandi put on,” Grace said with a wink. “I’m going to finish this water and then I’m taking you home, Mandi.”
    “You two can go solo,” Mandi said. “I’ll grab a taxi.”
    Tom shook his head.
    “You’re not going home alone in the dark.” He felt ten feet tall when Dakota’s golden eyes glimmered and her soft lips curved up, exposing her small, white teeth. God, she made him feel like a hero, like he wasn’t stalking the underworld looking for a man who’d signed his death warrant with a hail of bullets.
    He followed her to Mandi’s building and then back to her own. When she crooked her finger at him and asked him to come up, he was powerless to resist.
    Inside, Grace reached out and dragged him to her, pressing her lips to his and drinking him in with a moan. “God, you feel so good,” she whispered as she pushed off his jacket and ran her hands over his back, tracing the lines of his muscles. “Kiss me.”
    He slid her jacket and the light sweater she wore under it off, leaving her in a jean skirt and tank top. “Take off the wig. I want to see you.”
    She nodded, then reached up and twisted her fingers in the fake hair. He heard pins rain down to the floor and then the bright blonde hair was down and she was peeling off the cap on top of her head. Once it was gone, he could see the luminous blue-black of her hair. When she unwound the bun, it fell down straight and silky to her lower back.
    “You’re so fucking beautiful,” he said, dragging her down to the couch so she was perched on top of him, facing him. Her tresses tickled his skin when their lips met and lingered.
    “I want more tonight, Dakota.”
    “What do you want?” The words were barely words, just whispers over his skin where her teeth skimmed over his neck.
    “I want to know your real name.”
    _____
    Grace shivered and wrapped her arms around him. “I don’t think you want that,” she said, but knew she was lying. Tom craved the information. “Not at all.”
    But he did—and she knew it. His skin was so warm and smelled so good. It made her head swim and distracted her so that she almost whispered the truth to him, secrecy be damned. Chief Anderson’s warnings swam in her head and she frowned, sitting back on Tom’s knees with her own pressed into the couch so that her center was only separated from him by her panties and his jeans.
    “I can’t give you that,” she said finally, rejecting the idea of distracting him with her body. “But I want more with you too.” She did. Was so hot from the hard press of him against her that her hands itched to take off her clothes, then his.
    “Why can’t you?”
    “Because I’m not ready,” she whispered, looking down. He lifted her chin and pushed back her hair, meeting her eyes.
    “Okay, then.” He kissed her, soft and sweet. “Then you can just