Twisted Steel: An MC Anthology: Second Edition Elizabeth Knox (cheapest way to read ebooks .txt) 📖

I don’t look at him. I can’t do it. Because if I do, I’ll say something I shouldn’t. I can’t deny I’ve wanted him since the moment I first saw him. So, instead of admitting I like him, I respond, “Yeah.”

“Then why are you shaking?” he asks, far too aware for someone who was drunk only moments ago. When I drop my gaze, I realize he’s right. My hands are trembling as they twist into each other.

“It’s cold,” I bite out the lie as it burns my tongue. “Bikers are bad news.” I avert my gaze, because I don’t know why I tell him this, but I recall my dad telling me the same thing when I had a crush on Gunner when I was sixteen. That quickly subsided when I watched him paw everything in a skirt.

“Are they? I thought your dad was a biker?” The curiosity in his tone has me snapping my attention back at him.

“He was. That’s why he warned me off them,” I admit easily, reminding myself that my dad was a good man, even under all that leather and smoke. He didn’t hurt anyone. At least, not that I know of, because what I did learn in my years growing up around The Kovenant is that the club can make you do things you sometimes wouldn’t do.

“Good man,” Rogue remarks. “Sometimes I wish I could’ve had another life, a different life,” he says, but he doesn’t look at me as he says this. His words are slurred, and his voice cracks. I know he’s drunk, and I shouldn’t do this, but my body has a mind of its own as I slink to my knees beside him. The cool wooden beams of our patio are hard under me, but I don’t care. I reach for the bottle, and Rogue relinquishes his hold on it. As he does this, our fingers brush against each other’s, and the heat of attraction sizzles through my veins at the contact.

Rogue lifts his gaze to mine. We’re locked in a heated stare, and I don’t want anything to break it. His guard is down, and his eyes are wet with unshed tears. He watches me for a long moment, and as he leans forward, my heart skitters, stuttering in my chest when he stops inches from my mouth.

He’s so close I can smell his cologne wafting over me, and the scent of alcohol on his warm breath feathers over my lips. A zing of excitement shoots through me, and my stomach tumbles with fluttering hummingbirds as Rogue’s lips touch mine in a kiss so light, so gentle, it’s as if the wings of a butterfly have tickled my mouth.

“We shouldn’t do this,” he speaks against my mouth. “But I never claimed to be good, and I most definitely never claimed to be pious.” I can feel his smile. It’s dark, dangerous, filled with intent. “Tell me to stop,” he says, but I can’t find my words. My voice has taken a leave of absence, and I’m lost to the way Rogue’s mouth claims mine a second later.

His tongue dances along mine, as the flavor of alcohol bursts on my tastebuds. His hands reach for me, gripping my hips as he lifts me effortlessly onto his lap, and I’m straddling him. His hardness at my core, my fingertips dancing along his smooth, inked skin. Our mouths fused with heat and desire, and I can’t stop my hips from rolling as I feel him against me.

Large hands cup my butt, and he squeezes until I whimper into the kiss. I want to open my eyes, to see if he’s real and this isn’t a dream, but I don’t dare look. I don’t dare think of anything other than the way he feels right in this second. The material of his T-shirt flattens against the dips and peaks of his chest and stomach, and as I trail my fingertips over those smooth valleys, a groan of pleasure ripples in his throat.

Darkness consumes me, just like Rogue’s mouth claims me. His hands are everywhere, and I wish he’d slip them under my top. I want to feel his touch on my bare skin. But he doesn’t do it. He does behave himself, even though I can feel he’s needy for more.

When he finally breaks the kiss, his lips are shining under the dim light of the back porch. His gaze is locked on my face, taking in every inch of me. Close up, he is breathtakingly chiseled, like a goddamned statue made from the finest marble. Angular jaw, sharp nose, full lips. So perfect it would make even the gods weep.

“I shouldn’t have done that,” he speaks, his voice rough and husky.

My hands grip his shoulders, holding onto him because I don’t believe he’s real. I haven’t had a boyfriend before, not someone who wanted me anyway. So, for him to be here, under me, holding me, it feels surreal. But his words sting after the kiss, and I have to ask, “Why?”

“Because I’m no good for girls like you,” he admits.

“Girls like me? And what do you think I’m like?” Embarrassment burns in my cheeks, but I attempt confidence by squaring my shoulders, which only makes him chuckle.

“Good girls. I only bring darkness, little spy.” I don’t doubt him. I believe he’s dangerous, and he can hurt me. He’ll only break my heart, but with me settled on his lap, with his hands still gripping me possessively, in this moment, I don’t care.

“I’ve never done anything bad in my life. I haven’t even stayed out after curfew, but this” — I point between us — “this is what I want to do.”

“A good girl and a bad boy is an equation for trouble.” Rogue laughs as he shakes his head.

I can’t help but laugh too. “What do you know about equations, stalker?” I tease, my arms tangled around his neck. The closeness of his body, the