“One date, then you’ll leave me alone?” she questions.

I smile at her, nodding my head. One date is all I need to get my fill.

“One date,” I repeat. Though deep down, something is telling me this will be more than one date. Women like her can break men like me. I’m already acting like a fool, begging for a date.

“Fine,” she agrees, nodding her head. She doesn’t look fine with it; her eyes flash with trepidation as she processes what she just agreed to, but I’m not about to give her time to think about it.

“Great, let’s go,” I say, grabbing her hand, pulling her to my side.

Pulling back slightly panicked, she yells, “What?”

“The date you just agreed to,” I say, making it simple for her, “it starts now.”

For all I know, she’ll try to blow me off next week, giving me some lame–ass excuse. If I’m getting a chance, I’m taking it now.

“Now?” Disbelief fills her voice.

“Yes, Kadence, now.” I pull her along as she fights me to stay.

“But Holly.” She looks back to her friend, no doubt pleading with her. The blonde just squeals in delight.

“Have a good night, Kadence. Text me.” She waves her goodbye.

“Hold on. Where exactly are we going?” she questions, turning back when she knows she isn’t being saved. Walking up to my bike, I motion her forward.

“We’re going for a ride,” I tell her, handing her the helmet.

“No, there is no way I’m getting on that bike,” she rushes out, shaking her head, her long dark hair flying out around her.

“Well, it’s our only form of transportation, baby.” I inform her, trying to hide my excitement of getting her on my bike.

“Stop calling me baby,” she snaps.

“Kadence, get your ass on the bike,” I tell her again with a touch more authority.

“Nix,” she sighs, using the name I prefer; however, after hearing her call me Phoenix, I think I’m beginning to like it more. “You can’t just call me baby, boss me around and demand me to get on your bike.”

“Yes, I can,” I say, walking up to her. I take the helmet out of her hands and plant it on her head.

“Nix,” she says as my fingers work on tightening the chinstrap. “I’ve never been on a bike before.”

“Trust me, Kadence; I won’t let anything happen to you.” She steps back shaking her head under the black helmet, and I hold back my frustration. She's gonna make me work harder for it. Pain-in-the-ass woman.

“Last chance, Kadence, get your sweet ass on my bike or I’ll put you on it,” I insist, done with the damn fight. It’s getting late and I’d much rather be doing something else than argue.

“Can’t you just tell me where we’re going and I’ll meet you there in my car?” Walking forward, I ignore her question and place my hands to her hips.

“Nix,” she screams as I lift her small frame up, turn and plant her on the back of my bike. Done, problem solved.

“This date is going great already,” she sasses, sitting further back as I climb on my ride. I laugh on the inside. I don’t know about her, but for me, a woman who gives just as good as she gets is what I call the start of a good date. However, I still feel obliged to let her know how I roll.

“Let me give you fair warning, Kadence. I tell you to get on my bike, you get on the bike. You give me sass, I’m gonna do what I told you I’d do. In this case, I planted your ass on my bike. Now, quit your bitchin’ and slide down, or your sweet ass will hit the asphalt when I take off.”

Letting out a breath in defeat, she slides forward, her short legs hugging my side. As much as I’d love to get her on the back with one of those tight skirts she wears, the tight jeans she’s wearing are enough to make this ride uncomfortable.

She doesn’t move close enough so I reach back, grab her hands and bring them around me. She gets the hint, her front now plastered to my back. Flicking the key over, I start my bike and let it come to life. The roar of my Harley’s engine growls low. The muffler builds louder, the sound filling the still night. Kadence’s grip tightens as I release the throttle, veering to the left. I take off steadily and ready to take Miss Turner on one hell of a ride.

Chapter Five

Kadence

The wind rushes past us, cool air bites at my skin and the ends of my long hair stream behind me. We’ve been riding for what seems like twenty minutes, and I’ve regretted every second of it.

Okay, not really, I freaking love it.

Nix’s body heat is keeping me warm, my front pressed into his back. It’s the only reason I’m plastered up behind him. If the wind wasn’t so damn cold, I’d be able to relax back a bit. Who am I kidding? His body feels amazing underneath my hands.

I am slightly concerned, however, that I’ve let this man push my buttons, kiss me senseless, speak to me dirty, demand a date and manhandle me all in the space of two nights. I know getting caught up with him could end badly. I’ve seen what men like him, and their clubs, are capable of doing. So if I know these things, know that one date with not only a biker but a parent will only end badly, then what the hell am I doing on the back of his bike, driving to who knows where, to do who knows what? I’ve lost my damn mind.

I think it’s the way he talks to me. No one has ever spoken to me the way he does, and I can’t control the reaction my body has to it. It’s not even about the bossy side of him. Zane used to be bossy but in a different kind of way, a way that left no room for argument. With Nix, it’s like his demands ignite the dirty part of me, the part that’s hidden but still leaves room to argue back. Maybe it’s not so hidden if he can ignite it with just one comment or one look. I sigh at the predicament I find myself in as I lean further into him. His hand comes down on my thigh, squeezing me, and I feel it go straight between my legs.

When he asked for a date, my first instinct was to blurt out yes. I nearly did. Holly would have loved that. I had to fight my body’s instinctive reaction to jump him right there in front of the bar, begging him to spank me just like he promised. Then I remembered I was trying to hate him and thought that would go against everything I’ve been saying to him every time he pushes me.

I don’t know why I agreed. I was so close to escaping, but deep down, I knew this was coming. He said something that made me realize he was right. I feel the same pull he feels too. I know it with every touch, every look. He’s right. I’ve never responded this way to anyone before, and giving in to that pull is something my body has been craving so much. The decision was made, and for once, I’m going to give in to temptation. I didn’t know tonight would be the night, but following the saying of just let go, I did just that. I let go.

So now I’m sitting on the back of his bike, his broad chest feeling amazing under my hands. I copped a little feel earlier when we went sharp around a corner, but after five minutes, I relaxed into him, my body automatically holding on to his ripped front, memorizing it before I see what is under his leather cut.

One date. I’ll give myself one date. One night of letting go and then tomorrow, I can analyze everything I’ve done. I’m delusional to think he will want anything more. Men like him live the hard lifestyle. Women come and go; they get their fill and move on to the next one. He even said himself one date, so whatever happens, I’m going to put it down to the undeniable tension that’s between us, and for once, act on it.

Nix slows his bike, turning the corner of a suburban street, easing into the drive of a modest two-story house. He pulls up alongside a black jacked-up Chevy. The porch light has been left on giving off a soft glow against the darkened night, making it feel warm and inviting. Shutting his bike down, Nix climbs off and leaves me sitting here wondering how the hell I’m going to get off.

“How was your first time on a bike?” He smirks, knowing I enjoyed it more than a lot.

“About as enjoyable as anyone feels being placed on the back of a bike for the first time, asshole.” He shakes his head laughing, and then reaches out to help me off.

“I like that I’m your first.” He pulls me to him. I ignore his comment, and the reaction I get from it, and step back, needing space.

“Where are we?” I look up at the house, unbuckling the chinstrap to remove the heavy black helmet. My hair gets caught as I lift it up. Nix comes forward, helping me untangle the mess.

“My place,” he explains, taking the helmet and placing it in the side bag of the bike.

“I thought we were going out for a date?” I correct him, cocking my eyebrow at his forwardness. I shouldn’t be surprised; the man has been nothing but forward.

“I didn’t say where we were goin’. I’m gonna feed you, seein’ that your date left before you ate, get to know you a little better, and then I’ll take you home whenever you want,” he informs me as we walk along the front path to his front porch.

He unlocks and opens the door and gestures me to walk through. I should say no, shouldn’t even walk through his door, but my vagina is making all the decisions.

Making my way through the front entry, I’m silently amazed at the tidiness of his home. The large open-plan living area greets us as we make our way into the room. A large kitchen to the left, opens up to the dining area, and then extends further out into the living area. Two long black leather couches look inviting, sitting in front of a huge flat screen hanging on the wall. Looking around the room, I eye all the fine details to get a glimpse of him in his element. Nix opens up a large, paneled glass door out to the backyard. Flicking the light to give me more of a view, I walk forward and look out to the decking, blown away by the size of it.

“Wow,” I breathe out, walking up to the doors. Nix walks out onto the decking and starts up the built in grill. I follow, heading to the railing that looks out to his large backyard. The in-ground pool sits to the left and a large expansive grassed area is to the right. The yard is lit up as the spotlights from the house shine over the pool area. It’s huge and amazing. I feel a slight pang of jealousy at his home, a real family home.

Turning back around, I follow his movements. Closing the outside fridge, two beers in his hand, he passes me one after popping the top.

“Thanks.” Taking a sip, I look around one more time. “Nice house.” I motion around me.

“Thanks,” he says, turning back to the grill. I take a seat, feeling a little out of my element in his house.

“So,” I begin, trying to fill the silence between us. If we aren’t fighting or being smartasses to each other, it seems we don’t have much to say.

“Just relax, Kadence. I’m not gonna rip your clothes off just yet.” And we’re back.

“Yeah, yeah, Casanova, keep it in your pants. You aren’t getting into mine.” I watch as he looks at me, before walking forward like a predator stalking his prey. He stops short of getting in my space, but his tall frame standing over me communicates his formidable power.

“Kadence, don’t lie. You and I both know that what’s in those pants is aching for my cock.” The ache was gone, but with one sentence, his deep gravelly voice has me building an itch I know he could scratch.

“You’re good, you know that?”

“Kadence, I’m more than good.” I roll my eyes at him. Seriously, the man has it bad for himself.

“Tell me honestly, does it work?” I ask, genuinely concerned. I'm hoping I’m not the only fool falling for his dirty words. ‘Cause then I really would need to talk to my vagina.

“I don’t know, Kadence. Are your panties wet?” he responds, and this time I laugh out loud. He seriously must have taken classes or something.

“Geez, Phoenix, cut the bullshit, would you? Your dirty mouth might make some girls wet between the legs, but it’s not the key to getting between mine. You need to work harder than that,” I lie, standing from my chair and taking one step into his space. The truth is his dirty words are wearing me down, and if he keeps talking about wet pussies, I’m going to pull my pants down and demand he show mine some attention.

What am I saying? Am I really considering having sex with this man? This crass, dirty, sexy man who pushes my buttons, who irritates me while at the same time manages to turn me on? Of course I am. Why else would I get on his bike? I’ve had one-night stands before, before my accident that is. Could I let him in, possibly exposing that side of me without explaining? A part of me knows if he sees it, sees the ugliness, he will be disgusted by it or at least want an explanation.

I don’t like to allow my past to define me, or let me shy away from people, but when ten percent of your body holds second-degree burns, it’s hard to let someone see it. Granting permission for anyone to see the ugliness underneath can also be deeply empowering. I have the ability to control a part of it, so it doesn’t restrict me. I’ve worked so hard to move past my insecurities of it all.

I made the decision a long time ago to own it and embrace the marks of my past, yet Nix’s presence has me faltering, second-guessing that I’m strong enough to move past it. If I’m being honest, my insecurities are coming from the strange and intense connection I have with this demanding pig-headed man. It’s like no other. His presence alone makes me feel less worthy, but at the same time, my strength keeps me holding on. I know I can’t walk away from it even if I tried. The truth in that statement is that I sit here about to have dinner with him, knowing we will only end up naked. I’ve come this far; I want this just as much as he does.