Free Throttle's Seduction: Insurgents Motorcycle Club (Insurgents MC Romance Book 7) by Chiah Wilder

broke away from Throttle and smoothed her hair down, mumbling, “It was a mistake. Sorry.”
    “A mistake? There’s no way that was a fuckin’ mistake, sweetheart. We both been wanting that for a while.”
    “Speak for yourself,” she said as she finger-combed her hair.
    He gripped her wrists and turned her to face him. “You gonna look me in the eye and tell me you didn’t want me to kiss you?”
    With a downward glance, she shrugged one shoulder.
    “Damn, you’re a piece of work. You can’t even admit you wanted and enjoyed our kiss? Shit, babe. You been eye-fucking me for the past several days, and you know it.”
    She raised her eyes, anger flashing in them. “So what? You’re a good-looking guy and I was curious. You don’t have to act like it’s anything more.”
    “You can act like it was no big deal, but I know chicks, and sweetheart, you loved it. You’ll be back for seconds. I can guarantee it.”
    She narrowed her eyes. “It’s too bad I’m not the betting type. I could use the money.” She pushed past him, flung open the door, and stormed off.
    Throttle guffawed, wanting her to hear how he didn’t give a shit if she wanted more or not. He didn’t waste time chasing chicks. The only reason he’d even consider a second round with the smart-assed mechanic was because he wanted to nail her. He didn’t like giving chicks the upper hand. He’d show Miss Know-It-All that he couldn’t care less about her. He gave her a week max before she came crawling back, begging for him in her pussy.
    “You comin’ out?” Dwayne said.
    “Yeah!” Throttle picked up the iridescent skull that Kimber had forgotten to take and slipped it in his pocket. She’d need him sooner than he thought. He shoved his hands in his pockets and walked to the front of the store.
    The rest of the morning, Throttle waited on customers and finished inputting the numbers into the inventory software. Kimber stayed in the service garage, sending Jorge, one of the technicians, to retrieve the hood ornament from Throttle. He didn’t want to admit he was disappointed that she was hiding out from him. He knew she felt the charge between them. She was the most stubborn and infuriating woman he’d ever met. Why couldn’t she give in to the feelings that were coursing through her body? The way she kissed and pressed herself against him showed she was hot for him, and he was cool with that because he was hot for her. So what was her fucking problem? He knew later on, in the quiet of the night as he lay on his bed watching the clouds skate across the moon, he’d remember the feel and taste of her. Fuck! This woman is screwing with my head. Damn!
    His phone rang and he answered it, grateful for taking his thoughts off her. It was Rags telling him that one of the guys became ill in the heat and had to leave. Throttle told him he’d be there shortly, as soon as Hawk returned.
    As soon as he hung up, Hawk walked in. “Hey, man. How much headway did you make with recording the inventory?”
    “Finished it. Rags just called, said one of our guys went home sick. I gotta go. I’ll catch you later.”
    “Thanks, man.”
    Throttle swung his leg over his Harley and turned the switch, making his favorite lady come to life. He adjusted his sunglasses and made a U-turn in the parking lot. When he drove past the shop, he spotted Kimber standing by the window, peeking out at him. Satisfaction radiated throughout his body, and his lips curled into a cocky smile. He revved his engine and blended into the traffic, confident that he’d be between the sexy mechanic’s legs in less than a week.

Chapter Eight
    D etective McCue glanced over at the petite, dark brunette who stared at the ground, her nose dripping. He exhaled. At times like that, he hated his job, despised the broken pieces the bad guy left, expecting the justice system to put them back together. The investigator glanced down at his notepad. The woman’s name was Sela Ramirez and she